Chapter Thirty
The constant beep-beep-beep of the backhoe was getting annoying. Lynette wished she’d remembered to bring her earbuds to the shed to try to drown out the noise.
Her forearm ached from the up-and-down and back-and-forth brush strokes, but her little potting shed was undergoing its last big transformation, right before her eyes. Her original plan was to paint the shed to match the house, but her trip to Whispering Pines, where the wood siding of the resort’s cabins blended seamlessly with the surrounding trees, gave her new inspiration. The combination stain-and-sealer she’d gone with was allowing the natural grain to shine. Upon closer inspection, she didn’t think anyone had ever used paint on anything except the trim and doors. She still hadn’t decided on a trim color. The old red paint had faded to a pinkish hue around the windows. The blue on the door had held up better, but it was tired, too.
As she bent down to reload her brush, she peeked through a window. While she was still finishing up on the outside of her little backyard getaway, the inside was almost done, and she’d exceeded her own expectations.
A layer of insulation behind the drywall on all the inner walls and ceiling would make her she-shed more comfortable, regardless of the season and extreme Minnesota temperatures. She’d hired help to install a small heating and cooling system. Most of the mechanics sat on the outside of the building, masked by a short fence. A tiny sink in one corner—made possible by someone’s foresight to lay plumbing all the way to the shed to facilitate planting—would give her most of the comforts of the main house.
The only things lacking were a toilet and shower or bath.
She’d picked out the shed’s new windows for both their promised durability and their aesthetics. Lynette could picture herself curled up inside on a snowy winter day with a book and a cup of tea, relaxing on the deep plum-colored velvet sofa. She’d selected the tile flooring for practical reasons, but the thick, colorful rug over the tiles would keep her toes toasty.
“I swear, you’re more excited about that tiny shed out there than you’ve ever been about any of the rooms you poured so much money into in the main house,” Donna had said to her that morning over breakfast.
Lynette had reminded her she still felt most comfortable in smaller spaces after all their years in New York.
This afternoon, after she finished with the stain, she planned to walk downtown and visit the used bookstore. A new bookshelf—closely resembling those in Renee’s library at Whispering Pines—covered most of one wall. It was exciting for Lynette to start filling the shelves. She’d likely have to call Donna for a ride home, given the boxes of books she hoped to purchase.
A van door sliding open or closed caught her attention during a lull in the noise from the heavy equipment working on the far side of the house. She set her paintbrush down, shook out her sore arm, and walked around to the driveway on the other side of the detached garage.
“Yes!” she said with a clap of her hands. “Do you have a delivery for me?”
The delivery driver, his legs bowed as if he’d been a cowboy in another life, turned to her with a flat, square package in his hands. “I do if you are Lynette Howe.”
“That’s me!” she assured him, hurrying forward. Her ankle was almost back to normal. She’d been careful with it for most of the month after returning from Whispering Pines, though she was now trying to walk each day again.
“You seem excited about whatever is in this package,” the older man said, smiling at her enthusiasm.
She waved it at him. “A girl can never have too many projects!”
“And that’s the truth,” he said. The twinkle in his eye made her wonder what he liked to do in his spare time. At least, she hoped he had some time for the finer things in life. He looked to be older than Donna, and she had to wonder if he worked because he had to. “Enjoy!” he added, before climbing back into the cab and driving off.
Lynette gave the package in her hand a little shake. It was tempting to rip it open and make sure the photo album inside was what she thought she’d ordered, but her fingers were sticky in places with splattered sealant.
In keeping with the theme of mirroring some elements found in Renee’s library while still adding her own unique twists, Lynette had decided to compile a book that could capture favorite memories from their girls’ trips.
She hoped this would be the first scrapbook of many, documenting their travels, and she wouldn’t tell her friends she was putting it together until the first one was full. They all took lots of pictures with their phones, but between Renee’s scrapbook of extra pictures and the box of letters Lavonne kept for her, Lynette had gained a new appreciation for the value of documenting some of life’s high points.
But that project would have to wait until she’d put the finishing touches on her she-shed. She’d put it inside on the bookshelf for now. Maybe tonight she’d sit down and order prints of some of her favorite photos on her phone.
A light breeze tangled in the ringlets that had escaped the messy knot on the top of her head, and the hair tickled her face. She paused on the old cobblestones between the house and shed, stuck her package between her thighs to free her hands, and redid the topknot.
“I’ll never understand how you can do that without a mirror and look like you just stepped out of a salon.”
Lynette jumped at the unexpected sound of her mother’s voice. “Don’t scare me like that!”
Donna laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Women pay hundreds to get curls like that, you know, but they’re never as pretty as when they’re natural.”
One stray curl still bounced in front of Lynette’s eyes. She tugged it straight so she could see it better. “You don’t think the gray makes me look old?”
When Lynette looked to Donna for the validation she was hoping to hear, she noticed the woman was carrying a large bucket full of gardening tools. “I prefer the term silver to ‘gray.’ And no, you are a gorgeous woman, no matter the color of your hair. I like this more natural look you’ve taken on since we’ve been in Ruby Shores.”
“You do?”
Donna moved to her rose garden and set the bucket down with a grunt. “I do.”
Lynette remained unconvinced. “You have to say that. You’re my mother.”
“Actually, I don’t have to say anything. But I would like to be honest with you. And I’m being truthful when I tell you how pretty you look. Are you about done with the stain? What do you have there?”
Lynette glanced down at the package, still clenched between her thighs. “I decided it would be fun to make a scrapbook of our girls’ trips.”
“That’s a lovely idea. Do it now, while this latest trip is still fresh in your mind. Time goes by so quickly, and if you don’t do it now, you might put it off.” Donna pulled a wicked-looking trimmer out of her bucket. “If you ever need evidence of how quickly the seasons change, just watch Mother Nature. Look at how my roses have faded and the petals are falling. I need to get these bushes trimmed up while it’s still nice outside.”
Lynette hated to even think about the reality of the upcoming Minnesota winter. She’d be comfortable inside her shed, but the harsh reality of cold, bleak surroundings held less appeal.
Had Donna made any actual travel plans with Patsy and the other mothers to escape for a girls’ trip of their own?
Donna clipped a spindly branch as Lynette passed by. “Do you smell that? It’s my favorite smell of autumn. A sure sign that September has arrived.”
“All I can smell is this stain I’ve been using all morning,” Lynette said, sniffing at a dark spot on her hand. “But now that you mention it, the air smells like burning leaves. I suppose I’ll need to add raking to my list, too. At this rate, I may not get to this photo album until Christmas.”
As she tapped the lid to the stain closed, Lynette caught a whiff of herself. She needed to shower before walking down to the bookstore. The heat of summer was behind them, so she wouldn’t get too hot on her stroll.
The stain on her hands proved as difficult to remove as the pine sap had when she’d trimmed the evergreen away from her she-shed. By the time she turned off the water, her fingertips looked like raisins.
She toweled off and slipped into a loose-fitting athletic outfit she’d ordered from her old company last week. She still wanted to monitor the quality and variety of their products. It was a hard habit to break.
The top felt too snug around her hips, though it was her usual size. Now what? Call and complain? She hated it when customers did that. Her first thought always used to be that the customer had ordered too small of a size, because their company sizing was accurate. If that was still the case, maybe she needed to size up.
The bathroom scale mocked her from the corner of the room.
Val had spoiled them with lots of amazing food at Whispering Pines, and Lynette had fallen off her exercise wagon, thanks to her bum ankle. This was the first week she was back to daily walks.
Fine, maybe it’s me.
She considered changing but then left the too-small top on. It would remind her not to eat too much at dinner.
Bending at the waist, she wrapped a towel around her wet hair. Her phone rang from where she’d set it on the back of the toilet. She straightened, taking time to adjust the towel before checking to see who was calling.
The name on her screen was a complete surprise.
“Well, hello, stranger,” she said after picking up the phone and moving the towel away from her ear. “Aren’t we technically still in that uncomfortable stretch of time when we’re only supposed to communicate through our lawyers?”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “Technically, yes,” the woman on the other end said. “But you were the one who taught me that sometimes it’s better to go straight to the source.”
Lynette laughed. She really didn’t mind Frankie calling her direct. Keeping lawyers in between their communications had proved to be quite difficult. “I suppose I did. Believe it or not, I was just thinking about calling you. I ordered one of those new cotton athletic sets you released last month.”
“And let me guess,” Frankie said. “It’s too small.”
“So it isn’t me, coming home from an almost-two-week vacation, all fat and sassy?” The towel slipped, so Lynette pulled it off and finger-combed her curls as she held the phone to her ear with her right shoulder.
“I suspect you’ll always be sassy, but I couldn’t speak to the fat part,” Frankie said. “God, it’s good to hear your voice. Things aren’t the same around here without you.”
Lynette switched ears, then swiped on her deodorant. “Life is pretty different for me, too. In fact, today I stained a shed.”
Frankie made a noise of surprise. “I never took you for a manual-labor kind of girl. Isn’t that hard on your nails?”
The question had Lynette studying her naked, slightly jagged fingernails. She wondered if her salon back home—in New York, that was—had survived the pandemic shutdowns and reopened. Frankie lived in a different section of the city than Lynette had, so she wouldn’t know.
“Honestly, you might not even recognize me if I walked through your doors today,” she admitted.
“Why don’t you come for a visit and we could test that theory? When you left, you promised to come back and see us, but you haven’t yet.”
Her lawyer had strongly cautioned Lynette and Donna about maintaining any kind of ongoing relationships with their prior staff, at least until she’d received all the payments and they were well and truly beyond the sale transaction. Given his advice, Lynette hadn’t really considered a trip back to their old headquarters.
“Lynette, did I lose you?”
“No, no, I’m still here. You just got me thinking. Maybe a quick trip would be fun. But I’m sure that wasn’t the reason for your call. Did you have a question you couldn’t find an answer to? I’ll help if I can, but I’m sure lots has changed since I left.”
She checked her reflection in the bathroom one last time, then flipped the light off. If she didn’t get started on her walk soon, she might not have as much time to shop at the used bookstore as she’d hoped. There was always tomorrow. Even after more than a year away from her old company, Lynette still struggled to appreciate and remember the true freedom with which she now lived her days. It was a wonderful perk that she tried to remind herself of when she was feeling blue and missing her old life.
“Actually,” Frankie said, “that’s why I called. We were wondering if there would be any way we could convince you to come back and work in a consulting capacity. There are still so many things that we’re struggling with, some of which you might have even caught wind of in the media.”
Lynette wandered into her bedroom for socks, but Frankie’s surprising offer had her taking a seat on the end of her bed instead. “A consultant? The board hated the idea of consultants. Have you gotten their approval?”
“I mentioned it in passing. They gave their tentative approval, pending guidance by the lawyers on both sides of the sale. What do you think? Are you already so entrenched in retirement life that I don’t have any hope of getting you back here, or do you sometimes miss us as much as we miss you?”
“For how long?” Lynette asked, trying to process the notion.
“Well, that would depend on you. We’d take you for two weeks, two months, even up to a year.”
Donna stopped in the hallway outside of Lynette’s bedroom. “Who are you talking to?” she whispered.
Lynette held up a hand to silence her. “In a minute,” she whispered back. To Frankie she said, “I’m going to need to think about it. And call Kevin. My lawyer, I mean. When would you like an answer?”
Frankie sighed. “Whenever you’re comfortable giving us one. But please, Lynette, we are serious. We’d pay you, of course, and maybe we could even work out some kind of living stipend, since you don’t have a place in the city anymore.”
Lynette rubbed the back of her neck. “Give me a few days, all right? You’re really catching me off guard here. I promise to call you back soon, by the end of next week at the latest.”
She hung up, then fell onto her back to stare up at the ceiling.
“Is everything all right, Lynette?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted.
Donna came into her room and sat on the bed next to her. “Who called?”
Lynette turned her head to look at her mother. “Frankie. Can you believe it? I haven’t talked to her for at least six months, and that was just for one quick question.”
“From the way you’re acting, this was more than just a question.”
Lynette sat back up, then sidled closer to Donna. She dropped her head to her mother’s shoulder. “Mom . . . Frankie asked me to come back in a consultant role.”
Donna patted Lynette’s hand. “And you didn’t know how to tell her no.”
She laughed. “You’re usually pretty good at finishing my sentences, but not this time. I’m actually considering it. Of course, I’ll need to call Kevin first and ask all kinds of lawyerly questions. He’ll hate the idea, but unless there are legitimate reasons not to, then maybe I will. Is it bad that I’m excited? Would you want to come to New York, too?”
She felt her mother’s shoulder rise, as if she was taking in a deep breath. “What if you did it by yourself?”
“By myself? Why?” The questions were automatic, but hadn’t Lynette also been thinking about finally forging a path that didn’t necessarily include her mother?
Donna let out a little giggle. “Lynette, you are fifty-one years old. Don’t you think it’s about time you took on a project all by yourself?”
Lynette couldn’t quite believe how scary that actually sounded. “Mother, you don’t even like it here! You loved New York.”
“And now I might be ready to try visiting Switzerland for a while. Or Aruba, depending on the season.”
The elation she’d felt over the idea of a temporary work assignment back in New York City ebbed away, replaced by the hurt she’d felt while eavesdropping on Donna’s conversation with Lavonne at Whispering Pines.
“You don’t want to live with me anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Lynette shook her head. “Actually, you did. I heard you. Out at Whispering Pines, when you were sitting around the fire.”
Donna’s eyes widened and she fiddled with her silver ring. Lynette gave her a moment.
Her mother cleared her throat, then rubbed her forehead, as if a headache might be forming there. “Lynette, the only time I even hinted at the topic of our current living situation was during a private conversation I was having with friends. Did one of them discuss it with you afterward?”
“No . . .” Lynette closed her eyes as shame washed through her.
“You were listening, then. What, were you lurking in Annie’s cabin with the windows open? And how much did you hear? I can’t believe you would disrespect my privacy like that.”
Lynette chanced a glance at her mother’s face, hating the tears shimmering in the older woman’s eyes. She wished she hadn’t admitted to Donna about the eavesdropping. But not as much as she regretted listening in the first place. Maybe she should let her mother think she could keep some of her secrets.
“I wasn’t at Annie’s. I was reading on the screened-in porch at Kit and Jackie’s. My cabin was miserably hot. I swear I wasn’t trying to listen, but when I heard you say something about dreams, I admit it piqued my interest. I shouldn’t have listened and I’m not proud of myself. I’m sorry. But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy living here with me in Ruby Shores?”
Donna stood and paced over to the window overlooking their backyard.
Lynette watched her and wondered if she was trying to remember the exact timing of the different topics discussed around the fire that night. Should she admit to hearing Donna’s heartbreaking tale about her long-passed sister?
Perhaps someday she would discuss that with Donna, too. But her mother’s apparent upset, coupled with Frankie’s surprise offer, was already weighing heavily on her heart.
“Honestly, I’ve always placed your happiness above my own,” Donna said, turning back to face her. “But maybe we’d both benefit from some time apart. What we have, Lynette, is special. I don’t want to ruin that. Let’s just think about it. Moving here might have been a little rash. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
She turned toward the bedroom door, but paused. “By the way, Raven is swinging by tomorrow afternoon. I thought you might want to say hello to her. Did you know that after Raven and her husband moved to Salt Lake, they rented this place out for a while, before deciding to sell? Would you ever consider something like that?”
Had her mother already forgiven her for eavesdropping on her conversation? She seemed more resigned than mad. But Donna’s question did strike her. Rent out this house? The thought had never occurred to Lynette, but then again, Donna was sometimes the more forward-thinking woman in their partnership.
Lynette’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Donna walked out, stopping at the doorway. She didn’t look at her again. “You have lots to think about, so I’ll leave you to it. We can talk more about this later.”
Even if she wasn’t mad at Lynette, she was disappointed. Not that Lynette blamed her.
They’d both hurt each other.
Her phone buzzed again. Welcoming the distraction, Lynette glanced at the text. It was from Storm. He was leaving town in a few days, but he thought they still had a few things to discuss, so would she like to grab a quick drink? Then he sent a follow-up text with a laughing emoji and a suggestion of coffee instead. He didn’t think he had another boat rescue in him.
She dashed off a quick response, to which he came right back.
The lighthearted banter was a relief after the scene with Donna. Now her walk to the bookstore really was going to have to wait. She’d rather go sit on her new couch in the shed and think through things.
Something told her she and Storm had plenty of unfinished business, too.