Chapter Three
Three
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Vera Ingleby
“When baking, always measure chocolate chips and vanilla with your heart. It knows how much is needed.”
Juliet
The arrival of the flatbed tow truck had brought out the neighbors, a dozen at least, of all ages.
They streamed from their houses, scurried down the sidewalks, and gathered on Tenn’s walkway and front porch, a sea of curiosity.
He happily made introductions, one after another.
Before I knew it, sweet tea and cookies were being handed out, and I was being interrogated in the politest way possible.
I repeated much of the same information about myself to each neighbor I met while trying not to reveal too much.
My name, my age. That I was from Ann Arbor.
That I worked as a nurse at a private elementary school.
No, no relation to Florence Nightingale.
Yes, I knew she was a nurse, too. Single.
Third of five children. On a summer road trip when a detour brought me here.
One of the neighbors, Vera Ingleby, an older woman who claimed to be a retired hairdresser, but who I’d swear had once been a CIA operative, had brought the cookies with her when she arrived.
Testers, she’d called them, for a big baking competition she was entering soon.
It was hard to believe she was still tweaking the recipe, because the cookies were glorious.
They were the size of my hand, with peaks and valleys, filled with anything and everything.
I answered every single one of her queries in between chewing, but when she started asking more personal questions, about my family, I started to fidget.
That’s when Maeve stepped in close and said, “My apologies for the interruption, but Callum’s needing some particulars, Juliet.” She angled me toward the tow truck, gave me a subtle push.
“Excuse me, please,” I said to Vera.
With a big toothy smile, she said, “I’ll be here when you return, sweetie.”
Her and all the others. No one seemed the least bit interested in leaving, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Tenn ultimately invited everyone for supper.
As I made my way to the flatbed, I figured Maeve must’ve somehow sensed I needed a minute to myself to catch my breath because currently her grandson was beneath the front end of my hatchback, attaching a cable and chains to its underside.
I was quickly growing fond of that woman.
Katy, I noted, was back in the arms of the tree, keeping an eye out for her mother and sister, who were due home any moment.
I was a bit shocked by how much I’d already learned about this family in the short time I’d been here. Names and ages and professions and relationship statuses. Hobbies and favorite books and favored foods, too. Both Katy and Maeve were talkers.
I was wishing I’d grabbed another cookie when music suddenly filled the air as Tenn made his way onto the porch, a Bluetooth speaker in hand.
Playing was another song from Pirates of Penzance.
He’d been singing along to the soundtrack in the kitchen earlier while prepping dinner, though singing didn’t quite seem an adequate enough description.
Belting might work better. Or caterwauling.
I fully understood why Katy chose to escape the house from time to time for some peace and quiet.
“Has Uncle Tenn waxed poetic about Gilbert and Sullivan yet?” Callum asked as he walked toward me, adjusting his ball cap.
Dark blond hair curled out under its red band.
He was a head taller than my five foot six, slim and fit.
I guessed he was around my age, give or take a year or two.
He had his grandmother’s blueberry-colored eyes.
I’d been so distracted by the music I hadn’t heard him make his way out from under the car. “Not yet.”
He wiped dirty hands on a rag, which he then stuck in the back pocket of his blue work pants. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “It’s only a matter of time. Even if you’re not a fan, it’s best to pretend you are or he’ll go all out in trying to convert you.”
I smiled. “Good to know.”
We’d already talked about the car and its issues when he first arrived.
He’d opened the hood and had hmmed and nodded as I explained about the flashing engine lights and the puff of blue smoke.
If he had a guess as to what had gone wrong, he hadn’t said, but I swore I caught flashes of sympathy in his eyes a few times. That couldn’t bode well for the car.
Pieces of gravel clung to the shoulder of his gray T-shirt, which was adorned with a faded blue Hearnshaw Automotive logo, as he motioned to my car with his chin. “I’m about ready to load her up. Let me give you a hand gettin’ your things out of the back.”
My things. One carry-on-sized suitcase and a backpack. “You don’t have to do that.”
He started for the back of the car and lifted the hatch. “It’s included in the towing fee.”
“You don’t say.”
“No one ever reads the fine print.”
I smiled as he handed me the backpack. As I slipped it over my shoulder, I noticed the breeze had turned cool once again. The sky was darkening. I tried to ignore the increase in my heart rate as I said, “By the way, is there a hotel in town? A motel? A B then my late husband, God rest his soul, turned it into his man cave when I retired. I can clean it out, quick as can be. Won’t take but an hour or two.”
Tenn shook his head. “You must stay with us, Juliet. I insist. We’re more than happy to help a stranger in need, especially one whose car broke down in front of our own house. Ain’t so, Tallulah?”
The wind lifted Tallulah’s hair off her neck as she glanced from face to face. Worry lines deepened on her forehead. Then she glanced at my car, as if searching for some sort of answer there, and said, “That’s so.”
Maeve said, “Perfect! Now I hate to be the one to break up a party, but the sky’s about to bust open, and I have no desire to get soaked through.”
Rumbling thunder punctuated her statement, as if giving one last warning to take cover, and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Katy helped her mother get the baby inside, and as soon as Callum winched my car onto the flatbed—and politely declined an offer to stay for supper—Tenn grabbed my suitcase.
As Maeve and I climbed the front steps, I was beyond grateful for the hospitality I was receiving, but as I looked at the ominous sky, I was even more thankful at that moment to be out of the storm.
Later that night, I sat on my bed in the attic, looking around.
The large room appeared to be used mostly for storage. It smelled faintly of mothballs, dust, old cardboard, and freshly laundered bedding.
There was something homey about the space, though.
Welcoming. The lace curtains. The colorful sheets and patchwork quilt.
The mismatched handles on an old wooden dresser.
The threadbare floral rug, done in pale pinks and purples, that stretched from the bed to a set of narrow steps that led down to the second floor.
A window air conditioner shook and wheezed like it was dying a slow death as rain pelted the roof and ran through the gutters. The forecast I’d seen on my phone called for another wave of storms to hit in the middle of the night, which were bound to keep me awake, tossing and turning.
Remembering things I wanted to forget and unable to recall the things I wanted to remember.
It was a cycle I’d grown used to over the past three months, since the lightning strike.
My suitcase sat on the end of the bed, unopened, as I canceled my Graceland tour and my upcoming hotel reservations.
I texted my family via our group chat to let them know where I was, as I’d been doing since I hit the road.
I left out any mention of car problems, however, because I didn’t want them to try to fix the problem for me.
They’d become overly helpful in the last few months.
Smothering, even.
I pushed those thoughts aside and looked at the suitcase.
I decided I wouldn’t unpack.
I’d sleep here tonight. That was it. Tomorrow I’d find another place to stay.
I had meant it when I said I didn’t want to cause trouble, and I could sense my presence bothered Tallulah a great deal, even though for the last few hours she’d been trying to hide her discomfort behind polite small talk.
I heard a gentle knock and a creak as the stairway door opened. “Juliet?” Katy whispered quite loudly. “Can I come up?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
Her footfalls barely made any noise on the steps, and a second later, she was skipping over to the bed.
Lamplight glinted off her glasses. She was fresh out of the bath and dressed in shortie pajamas, smelling of soap.
Her damp hair still had comb lines running through it.
“Mama said to ask if you needed anything.”
“I don’t, but thank you.”
Her gaze fell on the suitcase. “I can help you unpack.”
“I don’t think—”
“You should unpack,” she said, nodding, encouraging.
I held her gaze and wondered if she somehow knew I’d planned to leave in the morning.
“After tonight, it’s probably best if I find somewhere else to stay,” I said.
She perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you worried about Mama? You shouldn’t be. It’s just that she doesn’t know you like I do yet.”
I smiled at that, considering she’d just met me today; then I realized she was perfectly serious. “If I were her, I’d be worried about a stranger in the house, too.”
“But you’re not a stranger,” Katy said. “You’re Juliet.”
There was something shiny and soft in her eyes that made me feel as though she really did know me. Not just what I presented to the world, but who I was deep down, even though I was still learning exactly who that person was. And, more importantly, who that person wasn’t.
“Well, that’s true,” I finally said.
She looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you’re here. In a few days, Mama will feel the same way. Trust me.”
Strangely, I did.
“You know, I’m glad I’m here, too,” I said and was slightly shocked to find that I meant it. Despite the storms, right here and now was the calmest I’d felt in months. Like I could finally take a full breath again without a twinge of pain.
“So you’ll stay?” she asked, her eyes imploring, a smile blooming.
It was impossible to say no to her. I took a deep breath and allowed myself to give in. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
As her smile grew and grew, revealing a missing tooth, I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my decision.
After all, the last thing I wanted to do was cause any grief for this family.
I’d done that enough with my own.