Enright Family Collection (140 page)

“Full house,” Georgia murmured.

She opened the refrigerator and contemplated her dinner possibilities.

Cauliflower soup, she decided, and took the ingredients out and placed them on the counter. The teacups—her mother’s and Gordon’s—still sat along the back near the wall. She paused momentarily, then

grabbed them to look inside. There was still a bit of liquid in the bottoms of each.

Taking both cups to the kitchen table, she sat down and peered first into Delia’s.

Clouds near the handle, with several dots nearby. Dots, she knew, emphasized the importance of the closest symbol.

Farther down, what appeared to be a candle.

She set the cup on the table and lifted Gordon’s, turning it around three times, clockwise, on his behalf.

A fish. Something that looked vaguely like an old Roman soldier’s helmet, and next to it, a vase.

Humming, Georgia opened Hope’s book, which she now kept in the kitchen for handy reference, and studied the symbols.

“Candle, candle,” she muttered.

A symbol of one who does good deeds.

“Nothing could be closer to the truth,” she exclaimed. “That’s my mother to a ‘T’!”

The clouds, however, were harder to define.

A dark period ... have courage, have hope ...

The dots nearby added urgency to the message.

It could mean something else,
Georgia told herself.
There’s probably lots of different meanings, depending on who you ask ...

Putting her mother’s cup aside, she checked Gordon’s once more to make sure that the images still looked the same to her, that no other shape was more accurate. The fish, helmet, and vase all looked the same. She would go with those and see how Hope had interpreted those objects.

She looked for a fish shape, and found one.

Good fortune. Your endeavors will prosper.

Finally, some good news.

She searched for a helmet through the pages and pages of hand-drawn symbols.

The protector.
You are in a position of trust.

A vase.
You will be of service, of strength, to others.

“Well, then, that’s nice for Mother,” Georgia mused. “Maybe those last two together mean that Gordon will be there for Mother, that for once, she’ll have someone to help her, instead of her being the one who always helps everyone else. Not that she ever seems to need help ...”

She closed the book on that upbeat note, pushing aside the darker suggestions she’d found in the leaves over the past several days and the question of what help her mother might require.

“Matt, supposing you tell me what planet you’re on so that we can join you there.” Liz leaned over the end of the desk and waved a piece of paper under Matt’s nose. “That’s the third time today you tuned me out.”

“What do you mean?” He attempted to tune back in without appearing that he’d actually been gone, a futile effort. Liz was far too sharp.

“Don’t give me that stuff.” She smacked him lightly with a thin file. “You have no idea of what I just said to you.”

“Ah, sure I do.” He glanced down at the file in her hand—
Henson: feline
—then beyond her to the waiting room. “You said the Hensons were late bringing in their cat.”

“You’re good, you know that?” She laughed and smacked him with the file again. “But I asked you if you’d mind if I left a little early today so that I could pick my grandson up at nursery school. My daughter has the flu.”

“Oh, sure,” he grinned. “Not a problem.”

“Matthew Bishop, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were in love.”

The flush spread slowly up from his collar.

“No!” she whispered loudly. “When did you find time to find a woman?”

He reached around her for his coffee cup which he had set on the corner of her desk. Trying to ignore the question, he asked, “Does Chery have the day off?”

“Don’t you even try to waltz away from that one,” Liz crowed. “Look me in the eye and tell me that there isn’t a new woman in your life.”

“Ah, well, there is someone ...”

“Well, then, who is she?” Liz demanded.

“She’s my sister’s sister ...”

Liz appeared to think this over before asking quietly, “Isn’t that against the law?”

“No, no. Georgia is my
sister’s
sister, she’s not
my
sister.” He stopped when he realized that didn’t sound much better. “My sister and I were both adopted by the same couple, but we’re not related by blood. Georgia is Laura’s half sister. They have the same birth mother. But I don’t. With either of them.”

“I see,” Liz nodded, though it was clear that she was still working through it in her head. “How does your sister feel about you being in love with her sister?”

“She doesn’t know yet. I’m just finding out myself.”

The front door opened. The Hensons with their cat.

“By the way,” Matt whispered as he waved a greeting to his patient, “do you happen to have any good vegetarian recipes you could share with me? It’s my turn to cook this weekend.”

Matt ushered the Hensons into the first examining room.

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Liz replied. “And Matt—”

He turned in the doorway as the Hensons passed by with their cat.

“It’s about time.”

Matt chuckled and started to close the door.

“Nothing with tofu, though,” he called back over his shoulder. “I really don’t like tofu ...”

The week had shaped up nicely for Georgia. By Wednesday, the catalog she’d requested from the nearby state college had arrived, and she had pored over the course requirements for a dance major. She figured she was good for credit worth at least a minor in performance arts, and decided to make arrangements for a performance exam upon which her advanced standing would be based. She could also probably take a proficiency exam in English. Cheered that she could start out with some credit behind her, she called the college and arranged for her dance proficiency to be evaluated, and was given a date in late June. She wrote a check for the summer dance instructors’ seminar and stuck it on the pile of mail
she’d take to the post office when she drove into town later that day. She tended her new tomato plants and babied her dill and basil seedlings, then watered all with the hoses that Matt had hooked up for her.

On Friday morning, she’d heard a car come up the drive and was delighted to see that Lee had driven down for a surprise visit. He wore gray shorts and a T-shirt with the DRA—Dancers Responding to AIDS—logo and carried worn black ballet slippers in one hand and an enormous bouquet of white lilies in a white porcelain vase in the other.

“When you called the other night to tell me about your new barre, well, nothing would do but that I help you christen it,” he’d told her when she flew down the barn steps and raced across the yard to spin him around with a bear hug.

“Oh, Lee, we haven’t danced together in years,” she kissed his cheek. “Oh, come on, I can hardly wait!”

She dragged him by the hand to the second floor.

“Well, this is an improvement,” he pointed to the portable barres. “And with some mirrors, some better lighting, a decent floor ...”

She held up a hand, palm first. “Please, no more. I’ve mentally redone this place a thousand times. All in vain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He slipped off his loafers and pulled on the ballet shoes.

“Matt will be moving back soon and he’s going to be renovating the barn ...”

“Wonderful!”

“... for a veterinary clinic.”

“You mean, as in animals, birds, reptiles ...”

She nodded.

“It’s okay, though. I can stay in the house. I just have to look for another place to dance in.”

“Pity. This place is ideal.” Lee tested the spring of the floor. “Sanded and finished, this floor would be perfect.”

“It would be.” Georgia moved to the barre and began her stretching exercises.

“You don’t seem very upset.” Lee took a place a few feet away and began to stretch along with her.

“I’m not.”

“Why? I would think you would be.”

“Because it will mean that Matt’s here all the time.”

Lee digested this while doing a series of
pliés.

“And this would be significant because ...”

“Because I think I might be falling in love with him.”

“Georgey, we’ve been out of touch for far too long. Fill me in with all the details. And don’t leave out any of the good parts.”

Georgia laughed. “You want to know all my secrets.”

“Well, you have to admit it’s been a long time,
cara.”

“Since Alexi went back to Moscow.” She nodded grimly.

“There was Sebastian,” he reminded her.

“He liked you better than he liked me,” she quipped, and they both laughed.

“We need music,” she said after a few quiet minutes of stretching and bending.

“I brought something for you,” he told her, “wait here ...”

He dashed down the steps and was back up in minutes, holding out a handful of CDs. “Here we have some Chopin—I know he’s your favorite—and for when we are done warming up, the music from the second act of
Giselle.”

Touched that he had remembered the role that she had so long coveted, then felt compelled to reject when it had been offered to her for all the wrong reasons, she put her arms around him and they held each other, two old friends who loved each other and loved to dance.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Well, then, come,” he held a hand out to her. “Let’s dance ...”

He led her into the first
pas de deux
from the second act, followed by Giselle’s solo, then the final duet, during which they both blundered a series of steps. When they had danced to the point of exhaustion, they folded to the floor to drink bottled water and laugh about their shaky performances and gossip about mutual friends.

“Want to see my garden?” she asked as they finally descended the steps.

“Sure.”

“It’s back behind the barn,” she pointed in the general direction. “Let me just run over to the house to get Spam, and I’ll show you.”

Spam rolled across the yard behind Georgia like a small hairy tank on tiny legs, greeted Lee with grunts and stayed between them as they walked to the field.

“Nice,” Lee nodded his approval when she showed him her little patch of crops.

“I plowed it up myself, and I planted everything
myself,” she told him proudly. “Matt helped me hook up the water, but I did everything else myself.”

“Do you have to be so perfect?” he teased. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Georgia laughed. “I’ll have you know I worked very hard out here every single day. I spoke with a couple of the old farmers who hang around Tanner’s—that’s the general store in town—and they gave me some tips. You know how methodical I am, Lee. I never do anything halfway. If I was going to farm, I was going to farm right. And it’s paying off. My little truck patch is thriving.”

“Wonderful.” He bent to inspect the herbs, rubbing different varieties between his fingers to release their scent. “Beautiful lemon basil. Lots of dill. Oregano. Italian basil. Parsley. Georgia, what were you thinking when you planted all this? You have enough here for about twenty households.”

“I do?”

“Cara,
you can make pesto till the cows come home and you’ll never run out of basil. I guess you’ll just have to sell some to me for the restaurant.”

“I wouldn’t sell it to you,” she told him. “If you want some, I’ll gladly give it to you. And actually, Laura wanted some for the inn, so I planted lots ...”

“You planted lots all right.” He leaned over to inspect the yellow flowers on the tomatoes, harbingers of fruit. “I’ll bet these will be wonderful when they all come in and ripen. What else did you plant?”

“Zucchini, yellow squash, green beans, eggplant, cantaloupes ...” she walked him around her garden, pointing here, then there, at this variety and that.

“Georgia, you will have vegetables coming out
your ears,” he laughed. “Let me be a customer. Let me buy your surplus.”

“Nah. I’ll give you what I don’t use and what Laura doesn’t need. But you have to come to pick it up yourself. That way I’ll get to see you at least once every other week or so.”

“Deal. And when the critics stop into Tuscany and rave about the vegetables, I’ll tell them where it all came from. By this time next year, you’ll have half the restauranteurs in Baltimore banging on your door to buy your produce.”

“Who knows where I’ll be this time next year? But in any event, I guess I don’t need to worry about running out of career options.”

“Now show me what you’re doing as far as flowers are concerned.”

“Oh, back toward the house.” She paused and looked around for Spam. She spotted the pig rooting in something behind the small barn and called to her. Reluctantly Spam left whatever prize she’d found and fell in step with Georgia and Lee.

“Hope—the woman who used to own the farm, she was Matt and Laura’s aunt—used to have a big flower garden here,” Georgia pointed to the area surrounded by the white picket fence, “but I’ve been using it for Spam when she’s outside and I can’t be out with her.”

“That’s a pretty fancy pig pen, Georgia.” Lee looked over the fence. “It looks like you have some flowers coming up along the side. Maybe you should find another place for the piggy and plant this area back up again.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll have some lovely roses there,” he pointed to the back of the fence. “And tons of lilac.”

“Want some to take back with you?” she asked. “The bushes have been in bloom for a week now, and I know it doesn’t last forever. I have it in bowls and vases and tureens all over the house, and there’s still tons of it.”

“I’d love some. I love the fragrance. I’ll put some in the restaurant.”

“Then let me get the clippers and I’ll cut some big bunches. A trade for the lilies.”

She had filled two large plastic pitchers with bowers of deeply fragrant blooms and still the ancient trees were thick with flowers.

“I think I’ll take some to Laura for the inn,” she said as she handed the containers to Lee, who took them inside to fill the bottoms with enough water to get them back to Baltimore without wilting.