decked with bric-a-brac siding in cream to match the rest of the house. Soft blue shutters trimmed the windows.
I didn’t know anything about the woman, but I liked her taste in homes.
I swung into the drive and parked up by the house.
The slam of my car door echoed across the snowy fields. I stared at the residence, remembering the wise words of my grandmother. Let it lie.
It wasn’t too late to get in my vehicle and gun it back to my own stretch of woods. I’d learned from my last renovation project that curiosity could definitely kill the cat. For the duration of my stay in Port Silvan, minding my own business should be my personal credo.
The front door opened. A woman dressed in equestrian-type clothing stepped into the cold.
“Tish. Welcome,” she called from the porch in her Bette Davis voice.
A breeze brushed my cheeks. I could always get back in the car, I reminded myself.
“Come in. We’ve got so much to talk about,” said the spider to the fly.
I wanted to buzz off in the worst way. But minding my own business could begin tomorrow, right after I figured out who this Candice was and where she fit into my mother’s life.
I took a step forward. The hole in my jeans suddenly felt the size of a baseball instead of a marble. Why couldn’t I have put on something a little more stylish? Candice looked like she’d stepped straight off the pages of Vogue. Next time I visited, I’d dress up and give her a better impression. I did have a few nice pieces in my wardrobe.
I put on a smile and walked up the front steps. She probably didn’t realize how intimidating she came off. Her short hair was dyed pure silver. Her sixty-something face looked wrinkle-free under a meticulous makeup job. Her trim physique would put most twenty-year-olds to shame.
She reached out and pulled me toward her.
“Look at you. You’re beautiful. And so much like your mother.” Her eyes seemed misty. She blinked a few times and shook her head. “Well, let’s not stand out here. Let’s go in where it’s warm.”
The light changed from snowy white to warm yellow as I entered the cozy parlor. The room was done in cream with satin white trim lining both the top and bottom of the walls. Framed black-and-white photographs hung from various length ribbons attached to thin molding that circled the perimeter. Flames flickered in a corner fireplace. Atop the dark oak mantel sat a miniature grandfather clock, its tick tick tick muffled by silky curtains striped in deep mauve and butter yellow. The tapestry furniture had a Victorian flair, but looked more comfortable than formal. Keepsakes and antique books were displayed in orderly chaos around the room. It was exactly the way I would have decorated my last house if I had lived in it for twenty years instead of a few months.
“Your home is gorgeous.” I couldn’t hide the awe in my voice.
“Thank you. Have a seat by the fire. I’ll get us some tea.”
She took my coat and left the room. I sank into an overstuffed armchair. The back reclined and a footrest popped out in front of me. I imagined having a set of these, perhaps in leather, flanking the hearth at my log cabin. I sighed. No use getting my heart set on furniture. The same rules that had applied to the last four renovations also applied to Port Silvan. Rent, don’t buy. The fewer possessions I owned, the easier it would be to pull up and move to the next project. Things just weighed you down. They made you get emotionally involved with four walls that should remain strictly a business transaction.
I put my hands behind my head and listened to the clinking of dishes coming from a kitchen somewhere. Things and people. Both were best avoided if a girl like me wanted to keep her head together. It was already hard enough that I’d bent my people rule back in Rawlings.
I stared at the ceiling and did a quick calculation. I’d gone almost forty-eight hours now without hearing his voice. I could get through the next forty-eight. And the next forty-eight after that. By then he should feel more like a distant memory, like my old friend Anne or my old cat Peanut Butter, and less like I’d had open heart surgery and the doctor forgot to put my heart back in and the only thing left was a huge, empty cavity where a lot of joy used to be.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Time. It was all a matter of time.
“Here we go.” Candice entered the room and set a tray of delicate china tea service on the low table between us. Orange-and-cinnamon-scented steam rose as she poured.
I reached for my cup. My fingers grabbed clumsily at the handle. The first swig singed my lips and burned a trail down my throat.
Across from me, Aunt Candice relaxed in her chair, cup and saucer in hand as she waited for the boiling liquid to cool.
“So how old is this place?” My s’s lisped out. I set my cup back on the table and nursed my lips with a suffering tongue.
“It turns twenty-five this spring.”
I scrunched my forehead. “Well, that explains why there’re no cracks in the plaster. It looks so authentic. I thought for sure you had renovated an original.”
She pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, the original burnt down. It was an exquisite craftsman-style home built in the 1940s, complete with secret doors and hidden passages. Entirely irreplaceable.” She took a sip of tea. “I’ve always loved Victorian architecture, so at the opportunity, I designed this farmhouse.”
“It’s really nice.” I wanted to get straight to the point and ask her to recite everything she knew about my mother. But the way she looked at me with that intent stare, seeming to check out every line on my face, made me nervous. It was better to keep the conversation impersonal until I knew what was running through her mind.
She set her tea on the table and leaned forward. “You’re probably wondering about me. Who I am, how we’re related, why I wanted to meet you.”
I grinned. “All of the above.”
“I’ll give you the short, sweet version.” She stared into the fire. “I got to know you and your mother quite well when you were young. You visited with me almost every weekend.” Her eyes met mine. “Perhaps as you spend more time on the peninsula, you’ll begin to remember.”
I concentrated on her features, hoping to stir some vague memories. Nothing rose to the surface. “Maybe.” I reached for the note that was still in my pocket and dropped it on the glass tabletop. “How did you know I’d be arriving in town?”
“Ethyl Merton kept me posted. She and I go way back. She said she’d promised not to tell anyone of your arrival, but she remembered how special you were to me and couldn’t resist passing on the good news. I hope you’re not angry with her.”
I considered whether or not to forgive Ethyl’s misconduct while Candice sipped her tea.
She looked over the edge of her cup. “I’m surprised you’d drive through a snowstorm to get here.”
I shrugged. “My grace period was up at the last house and I had nothing better to do, I guess.” Nothing better to do except meet Brad for lunch at Sam’s Coney and plan our downhill ski trip with the gang after church on Sunday. But why put off the inevitable? I simply said goodbye and meant it instead of dragging out some long, agonizing relationship that was doomed to failure before it even began.
“You do have Russo blood in you, I see. Anyone else would have waited until spring,” Candice said.
I’d decided that facing a blizzard was definitely less scary than looking Brad in the eye and telling him why I couldn’t hang around Rawlings anymore.
I waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not so brave, really.”
Her brow lifted. “I’m not talking bravery. I’m talking stupidity.”
My jaw dropped and my eyes fluttered. Had she just insulted my entire family?
“Don’t look so offended. The Russos are known for having their priorities out of kilter. I only hope you won’t make the same mistakes.”
Too late, I wanted to tell her. “Thanks for the warning,” I said.
Aunt Candice leaned back and crossed one tall leather boot over the other. “You’ve been away a long time, Tish. I can only assume you’re back because your grandparents kept you in the dark all these years.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Art and Eva did a commendable job snatching you away from the peninsula. I’m sure I’m not the only one astounded that you’ve returned. That’s why I had to see you before they got to you.”
“Before who got to me?”
