Enright Family Collection (60 page)

“So does my mother,” Zoey noted.

“Then your mother would be in her glory here next spring.” From her pocket Peg produced a key for the lock box that secured the front door and dangled it. “Ready to take a look inside?”

“More than ready.”

Swinging the heavy wooden door aside, Peg walked ahead of Zoey into the darkened entry and turned on a small lamp, then pulled back pale green drapes that shielded the windows in the living room beyond the small foyer.

“Looks to be chestnut.” Peg carefully inspected the handsome grain of the woodwork around the door frames. “Nice.”

Zoey stepped into the living room and sighed deeply. Along the long outside wall stood a large fireplace, the surround done in terra-cotta tiles, some of which appeared to have raised designs of flowers. Bookcases on either side were topped by long narrow strips of stained
glass windows depicting what appeared to be scenes from the Middle Ages. The deep silled front windows overlooked the porch, which was shaded by a large Japanese maple tree, its lacy orange leaves shimmering in the morning sun, while the side windows faced a row of staunch pines and the house next door. Doc Little field’s house. Zoey smiled at the thought of having the retired gentleman as a neighbor as she followed a wide arch at the far end of the room into the dining room, which had a lovely view of the grape arbor Zoey had previously inspected. A small kitchen, outdated and badly in need of everything, opened onto a small back shed and porch. On the opposite side of the hall were two bedrooms and a bath. A somewhat narrow door led to a flight of steps to the second floor, which was one very large unfinished room. Windows all around gave views on all four sides. It would make the most wonderful bedroom, with a spacious bath and one enormous walk-in closet. Zoey could close her eyes and imagine skylights that would open to bring in the night sky, or the first glow of a new day. She went back down the steps and walked through the house again.

The bedrooms could be a comfortable guest, bath, and sitting room suite for overnight guests, the sitting room doubling as a home office. The living room was just right for her curved and cushy sofa, which would wrap around the fireplace perfectly. She could see the bookshelves lined with books and that collection of American pottery her mother had started for her years ago. The dining room would be sunny and cheery, and even without closing her eyes she could see an old crockery tureen overflowing with lilac and peonies in the middle of a well-worn antique harvest table. There was no redeeming the kitchen, however. The counters, floor, and painted metal cabinets would all have to go, but since the room was small, it probably wouldn’t take much to renovate. That and the bathroom—also well outdated—and the second floor makeover would be the big expenditures. The rest of the house—well, some cheery wall
paper would work wonders. The handsome millwork would be left untouched.

“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I was looking for,” Zoey announced.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yes. I love it. It’s definitely me.” Zoey grinned. “Or will be, once I’m done with it. Let’s go back to your office and and talk over the numbers.”

“You are serious.”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine. Great.” Peg shook her head. She had been prepared to show Zoey two other older homes—larger and much more expensive—once Zoey had seen and dismissed the bungalow. And though there were larger commissions to be made elsewhere, one look at Zoey’s face was enough to convince Peg that the sold sign would go up as soon as the paperwork was completed.

While Peg wrestled with the lock box, Zoey stood on the lawn beneath the trees, rustling the paintbox colors of the fallen leaves with the toe of her shoe, studying the front of the house that was, in her mind, already hers. It was a handsome little house, and had felt like home. It had just enough ground to give her space, and just enough room inside to spread out. Once she had completed the plans that were already spinning in giddy circles around and around in her head, the bungalow would be charming. And it would be hers, all hers. What a surprise for Delia, once she completed her tour and arrived back home.

Zoey bent down and picked up a large acorn that had dropped from the large oak that stood at the very end of the driveway and turned it around and around in her hand like a lucky coin.

Of course, Delia would love the house.

Of course, Delia would expect to take over the renovations, would most likely want to pay for the new furniture as well.

Zoey began to tap her foot unconsciously.

I want to do this myself. I want to hire the contractor and pick the wallpaper and argue with the plumber if necessary. I want to chose the new kitchen counters and floor by myself

A cloud of guilt began to wrap around her, and the thought that perhaps she was, in a sense, betraying her mother tried to seep into her consciousness, but she pushed it back.

I’m a grown woman. I can do these things for myself I want to do this for myself

Zoey suspected that with her new job’s generous salary, she could afford to buy the house, and still qualify for a loan to renovate it, but knew also that her mother would want to be involved with the process. She would just have to find the way to balance both, she decided, and she would somehow do just that. She nodded, as if in silent agreement with herself, and started to walk across the lawn to her car when the front door on the house next door opened and Dr. Wallace T. Littlefield stepped out.

“Thought that was you,” he called and waved a greeting. “You weren’t planning on leaving without stopping by to say hello, now, were you?”

“Actually, I thought I’d stop back when I finished up with the realtor,” she told him.

“So. Whatcha think of the place?” Wally’s eyes took on a hopeful shine.

“I love it.” Zoey grinned and fought an urge to jump up and down and fling her arms around the old man’s shoulders.

“That so?” He nodded happily.

“Yes. That’s so. As a matter of fact, I’m going back to the realtor’s office right now and we’re going to talk over what it would take to buy it.”

“Really?”

“Really. Thank you, Wally.”

“For what?”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have found this
road, I’d never have seen the house. . . .” Something in his eyes stopped her mid-sentence. “Wallace Littlefield, you wanted me to look at this house.”

“Nonsense. All I did was accept your gracious offer of a ride home.”

“You knew that if you helped me carry my stuff to the car, I’d offer you a ride.”

“You’re obviously a young lady who has good manners, it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility for you to—”

“You knew I was looking for a house. How did you know I’d fall in love with this one?”

Caught, he shuffled a little. Something caught his eye on the ground and he bent slowly to pick it up.

“That’s from the tail of a red-tailed hawk.” He handed her the deep auburn feather. “In the morning she sits out here and scans the fields for her breakfast. She’s a beauty, she is.”

Taken off-guard by the shift in conversation, Zoey turned the feather slowly between her fingers. “I know what red-tailed hawks look like. I went on a bird watch on Christmas Day with my brother and his fiancée in Devlin’s Light down on the Delaware Bay. I saw a red-tailed hawk and a”—she sought to recall the name of the rare bird whose sighting had created such a stir that day—“yellow-crowned night heron.”

“Really?” Wally took Zoey’s elbow and guided her almost without thinking across the lawn. “A yellow crowned night heron, you say? Haven’t seen one of them in years. Used to be three, four of them that stopped over at the pond out back”—he raised a thin arm to wave toward the woods—“at the end of the summer. Migrating, I supposed. But no, I can’t say that I’ve seen a yellow-crowned night heron within the past, oh, eight, ten years, at the least. Handsome devils, I recall.”

“Very handsome. Regal.” Zoey nodded knowingly, and the feeling of being home once again swept over her.

Wally stopped and pointed upward toward a hollow in an oak at the end of her driveway and said, “There’s a
family of raccoons that live up there. Three babies they had this year. Bad as can be, those bandits are. Cute as puppies, though, and I’ve spent many an early evening sitting on my porch, watching those rascals learn how to climb down the trunk of the tree.” He stopped at the driveway and pointed toward the rear of the property. “There’s owls in the loft of that old garage, and out back there, at the farthest end of the garden, there’s a family of groundhogs, been here as long as I have.”

“And how long’s that been, Wally?” Zoey asked softly.

“I was born in that house.” He nodded to his home. “Great-great grandmother was a McConnell, she and her husband built that house. Lived here a good part of my life . . . all seventy-two years of it. Parents both died from influenza. I moved back here with the wife after I finished medical school. Mae—that’s the wife—died in seventy-eight.”

“And you’ve lived here alone since then?”

“Yep.” He pointed a crooked finger to the bungalow and added, “Course, Addie Kilmartin was good company over the years.”

“Were you and Addie . . . um . . . companions?” Zoey’s eyebrows rose.

“Maybe we were, and maybe we weren’t. I’ve never been one to fuel the gossip mill, missy. And besides, a gentleman never discusses his relationship with a lady.”

“I see.” Zoey grinned. “I take it Addie was a single lady.”

“She was a widow lady for the last eight years of her life.” A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “And a fine lady she was, too. I’ve missed her these past few months. I know she’d be pleased with you buying her house, though. She’d be real pleased.”

“Why is that?”

“Just suits you, that’s all.” He waved a greeting to a passing car. “And you would have suited Addie. Well, then, missy, looks like the real estate lady there is ready to move on out. You’d better be following along if you’re planning on making your interest in this house known. I
heard that Addie’s granddaughter is leaving for a year’s study in Germany in another month or so, so you’ll want to get on with it.”

“Good point. I’m on my way.”

“Stop around and let me know how you make out, hear?” Wally patted her on the back before she took off down the driveway.

“I will!” Zoey practically skipped to her car, hopped in, and turned it around in a flash.

“And Wally . . .” She rolled down the window when she reached the end of the driveway.

He leaned forward a bit to hear her.

“Thank you. Whether by design or not, I love the house.”

He saluted her with his right hand and a grin.

Wally watched both cars disappear around the first curve in the two-lane road, but stood there on the lawn until he could no longer hear the engine from Zoey’s peppy little car. He walked toward the bungalow, where he pushed aside a scattering of leaves on the front steps before seating himself and stretching his legs out straight to catch a bit of sun. Across the road, trees the very color of sunshine spread a canopy of gold. He inhaled deeply of the last lingering scents of autumn, grapes and apples, sweet autumn clematis and phlox and Russian sage. Around the mailbox, brassy black-eyed Susans grew alongside the thin, dried arms of Queen Anne’s lace, uninvited, all, but welcome. From a gnarled branch halfway up the oak tree, a squirrel dropped the shell of an acorn he had just opened and devoured. The sights and sounds were all familiar, all beloved. Wally sighed, satisfied with the season and the circumstances.

“Well, then, Addie, I’d say we did all right, wouldn’t you?” He took off his baseball cap and scratched the back of his head. “Yep. I’d say we did just fine.”

Six weeks later, after a quick settlement and nine days spent interviewing contractors, Zoey was pacing the hallway in her apartment, her cell phone jammed between
her shoulder and her ear, talking to CeCe, who had become a close friend, and waited for the arrival of her mother.

“Zoey, I just don’t think I really understand this,” CeCe said. “I mean, if I called my mother and told her I had just bought a house, she’d be thrilled. Why do you think your mother will be upset? She didn’t seem like a mean, evil person when I met her.”

“She’s not mean, and there’s not an evil fiber in her body. It’s just the opposite. She is too good to us. She wants to do everything for us.”

“You don’t think your mother will be upset that you didn’t let her buy your house for you, do you?” Cece laughed.

“Actually, that’s not as far-fetched as you might think.” Zoey sighed.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You’d have to know my mother to understand.” Zoey frowned, not certain that even she really understood Delia’s need to do so much for her offspring. “Well, we’ll soon find out. She’s just pulling up. I have to go. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Zoey hung up the phone with Cece’s “Good luck” ringing in her ears.

Zoey grabbed a sweater and stuffed her keys into the pocket of her jeans.

“Hi!” She waved from the front steps, then turned to lock the front door behind her, taking a deep breath and admonishing herself for being so silly. Of course, Delia will be thrilled for her.

“Mom, I want to take a ride,” Zoey hopped into the sedan and stretched across the seat to give her mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Fine, sweetie.” Delia leaned back into the tan leather and smiled.

“I’ll give you directions and you can drive.” Zoey grinned with a playfulness she did not feel. “And while we’re driving you can tell me what it feels like to have your picture on the cover of
People
magazine.”

Delia laughed and rolled down the window, letting in
the crisp late autumn air while she turned the sedan around and followed her daughter’s instructions.

“Zoey, have you spoken with your brother this week?” Delia asked, taking the indicated turn to the left.

“No, I haven’t heard from him in over a week.”

Delia raised an eyebrow. “Who is hiding out from whom?”

“I’ve been working odd hours, Mom. Sometimes I’m on the air at two o’clock in the morning, you know. I’ve left messages on his answering machine, and he’s left a few on mine.” Zoey put her passenger side window down and peered out, as if trying to check her bearings. “Take a right at the stop sign, please. And Georgia’s been out on the West Coast with her dance group, so I haven’t spoken with her either.”