Someday Home (6 page)

“I suppose you are sitting in that big hulk of a house all by yourself,” Melody, her cousin and best friend, announced without even a “Hello and how are you.”

“I finished all the cataloguing and turned the paperwork over to Mr. Odegaard, the executor, today.”

“And now what will you do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, you should have enough money to do pretty much whatever you want.”

“Sometimes life does not work that way.”

“He screwed you again.”

“Not my way of putting it, but in the long run, you are right.”

“Well, that…that…,” she sputtered to a close. “If he weren't dead and buried, I'd be tempted to take care of him myself.”

Uncle Sebastian had long ago ceased to be even an addendum to Melody's favorite people list. She made her opinions known with no compunction.

“So he left you with nothing?”

“Pretty much. I have my own personal possessions, my car, my clothes, and the fund that Mother left to me.” She looked around this, her favorite, room. She had chosen and paid for the furnishings in this room. They were hers. The furniture in her bedroom the same, only that had been given to her by her mother. That was it.

“But I thought he promised you would be cared for. I thought the estate was yours.”

“No, he signed the house and furnishings over to the Heritage League with the provision that they turn this into a living history museum of life in the early 1900s. I can remain here as caretaker if I so desire. He expected that was what I would do.”

“Come live with me.”

“I can't do that.”

“Why not? The children are grown and gone; it is just Anselm and I rattling around in this big old house. You could have you own quarters. Be as free as you like. We want to do some traveling, so you could go with us or stay here. Surely if you want to find a job, that would be easier closer to the cities like we are.”

“What would I do?”

“Well, you pretty much ran your father's business these last years.”

“True, but I never received a paycheck or paid taxes or anything that an employer could look at and see what I have done. I have no references, business that is.” She leaned forward and poured herself more tea. “Since my father signed off on everything, it is like I am a zero on the register of life.”

“But you did all the work besides taking care of him.”

“You know that and I know that, but how would I prove it to a prospective employer?”

“Have you thought of going back to school?”

“Funny you should say that. I wrote it on my thinking pad. I'm sure my meager credits are not applicable any longer.”

“You could live here and go back to school.”

“I could. I am writing that option on my think pad.”

“Where would you like to live, if not here?”

“I have always wanted to live on a lake or an ocean or a river. To wake and see the water every day sounds like a bit of heaven.”

“Well, there are enough lakes in Minnesota you could probably have one of your own, mosquitoes and all.”

Melody never had cared much for water, especially not after that summer she almost drowned at Bible camp. Judith stared down at her list. “Someday I want to have a dog, too.” Another desire her father had squelched.

“We have Bozo, we'll share. Look, Judith, at least come and visit for a while. Put your things in storage, get moved out of that house, and perhaps you'll have a different perspective. Your father's ghost is probably watching every move you make there. If anyone could die and come back to influence and make his daughter miserable, it would be Uncle Sebastian.”

“I'll think about it. And thank you for calling. You were just what I needed.”

“You want me to come and stay a few days, help you get out of there? I can, you know.”

“I'll let you know. I guess I've made so many decisions in the last few days that I am about decisioned out. First thing, I need to decide if I will stay on here as caretaker or not.”

“Not.”

“Thanks. Tell Anselm hello from me.” When they clicked off, she counted the bongs of the clock—10:00 p.m. Perhaps she'd sleep better tonight. The chamomile tea might help with that. And maybe she'd wake up in the morning with some decisions made.

Or maybe she'd choose to stay in bed. After all, anything could happen.

I
am more and more thinking this idea of house sharing is the way I should go.” Lynn sat back in her chair and looked across the kitchen table at Phillip.

“Have you counted the cost?” Phillip was studying his mother, staring in the same way he would ponder a clogged sink.

Lynn stared right back. “I'm working on that. We need one more bathroom so that each of the other bedrooms have a bath. I figured you'd look at it inside and out and give me an estimate. Far as I can tell, that's the only addition to the house.”

“What about garage space for two more cars in the winter?”

She flinched. She'd not thought of that. “Do you think the hot-water heater will be sufficient or do we need a newer, larger one?”

Phillip was in his deep-thinking mode, arms crossed, staring toward the floor but most likely not seeing anything. She waited with all the patience she had cultivated through the years of working with his father. The two were far more alike than different. Perhaps Phillip laughed a little more readily and he was right-handed, not left. He had inherited something from her.

“You might consider the newer instant hot ones. This one is what, ten, fifteen years old?”

“At least. I'd have to look it up.”

“Will you furnish the rooms or would they bring their own beds and things?”

“Good question. If they were buying into the house—some places do the financial side that way—they would bring their own, but since we don't have a suite for each, I guess it could go either way. I have the furniture.”

“Have you talked with anyone who does this? I mean, what if you don't get along?”

“I'll do interviews, ask for referrals, check financial statuses. The book I got has a list of questions to ask. And then I pray about it. You know, if we're not happy with the situation, I can give notice that they have to move. I mean, we all know that life changes and sometimes in an instant.” How well she knew that. She'd dreamed of Paul again last night and realized she was also crying when she woke up. Just the thought brought the tears burning at the back of her eyes. Would this never go away? She sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box on the counter.

“You okay?” Phillip asked softly.

“Yeah, or I will be.”

“You know, if you really want to do this, I think we should all sit down together and talk about it. Any chance Lillian could come home for a weekend?”

“We can ask.”

“Have you mentioned it to her yet?”

She nodded. “She said to do whatever I thought best and she'd ask around to see if she could find someone who was doing shared housing. I mean, she'd shared an apartment while she was going to school and that worked all right.”

“Somehow it seems different when it's a group of students or younger people just getting started.”

“Your age bias is showing.”

Phillip heaved himself upright. “I'll check and see when Mags has a day off. We can Skype with Lillian if we need to. We'll ask Annie to come stay with the kids so we don't have a bunch of interruptions. I'll ask Tom to do the same.”

“Thanks.” She watched her eldest go out the door. She could tell just by the set of his shoulders that he was not yet convinced this was a good idea.

The day of the meeting, she baked two apple pies and one chocolate meringue and lasagna as only she could make it (the kids all said so). The French bread with garlic and Parmesan cheese was waiting under the broiler. The table was set in the dining room, not here in the kitchen, as if it were a holiday of some sort.

Perhaps it was. She'd made a rough estimate of the bathroom expenses; priced the new water heater; and talked with Hank, their local contractor, about building a two-car garage, getting two estimates, one for making it two story so they could eventually finish the second level into a mini-apartment, a guest suite or game room, or something. She'd talked with Ron at the bank about a possible loan, feeling pleased when he told her that whatever she needed was available to her. There was something to be said for banking for many years at a local bank. And having grown up with the bank manager. She had all the papers in a file folder waiting on the antique buffet that once belonged to her grandmother, then her mother, and now it was hers.

Any changes I make to this house will only increase the value of it
, she reminded herself while breaking the romaine lettuce for the salad. If she could ever get the garden in, they would soon have fresh lettuce. That morning she had listened to the inner idea to plant mixed lettuce seeds in an oblong pot and set it on the south-facing windowsill to sprout. Getting a head start on the growing season. Paul had built her a hotbed for starting seeds, but since he died, she'd just not had the energy to get out and do that. So many things she'd let go by the wayside. Would she ever get back to them all, or were they for a reason or only a season?

With everything in order for the supper, she headed upstairs to put on a clean shirt at least. As always tomato sauce had managed to splatter on her white T-shirt. That's what happened when the cook forgot to put on an apron.

Sometime later with the five of them finally seated at the table and all the food in place to be served, they bowed their heads for grace. For a change, perhaps to make this a more formal occasion, she started the Norwegian prayer that her mother had not only taught her but her children.
E Jesu navn, gdr vi til bords
.
At the amen, she nodded. They needed to use the old ways more often so the traditions did not get lost. “If you pass your plates, I'll dish up the lasagna.” She had cut it into hefty pieces in the kitchen before bringing the huge pan to the table. She did not know how to make a small amount of anything.

Another one of the lessons of widowhood that she had not succumbed to, cooking for one.

“So, did you get that Peterson place finished?” Phillip asked, looking toward his brother.

“I thought we weren't going to talk plumbing tonight.” Maggie rolled her eyes at Josie, who sat across the table. The two younger women always tried to keep family meetings on track.

“Oh, right.” Phillip passed the bread basket on around. “Maybe this weekend we can get the dock out.”

“We have to repair that off wheel first. I have the canoe up on sawhorses so I can give it another coat or two of varnish.”

The two wives shrugged.

They might as well give up, Lynn thought.

“Hey, Mom,” Maggie asked, “did you get that flier in the mail about the quilting, needlework, and craft show in Minneapolis? I'm sure dreaming of going.”

“How can you get time off?” Lynn's attention deserted her remodeling ideas and zeroed in on the new topic, one very dear to her heart.

“Far enough ahead, I can ask for it. We had such a great time the last time we went.” She looked at her sister-in-law. “You want to go, too? It'll mean a night or two in a hotel; I think the show lasts three days, but we needn't stay for it all.”

“Oh, how I wish. I studied that thing and the calendar, and there is no way. You'll just have to teach me what you learned when you get home.” The three of them had attended a similar event in Fargo, just one time, but Fargo was less than an hour away, and Minneapolis, four on a good day.

“Can I get anyone anything else?” Lynn asked, looking around the table. Maggie stood and started to clear the plates.

“Just leave them in the sink and we'll have dessert later.”

“Big brother said you made both apple and chocolate pies. Do we really have to wait?” Tom practiced a pout.

“Come on, take your coffee and we'll turn on the news while we wait.” Phillip stood.

“Don't get too comfortable; we'll only be a minute.” Lynn handed Phillip the file folder as he walked past her. “Just in case you want to start thinking before we get in there.”

“Are you saying watching the news is a nonthinking activity?”

Her shrug precluded any need for words.

In the kitchen, the girls were already loading the dishwasher.

“I can do that later.” Maggie waved a hand. “You go ahead and cut the pies. I know both of them want a slice of each.”

“I'll start the coffee,” Josie said.

Through the years the three of them had become a well-oiled team on kitchen routines. When possible they canned and froze food together; baked Christmas goodies, using all the Norwegian recipes they so dearly loved; and cooked other times when large quantities of food were needed. All the kids joined them with Christmas baking.

If I do the shared housing, will I have to give up traditions like this?
Lynn paused in cutting the pie. She gave a small headshake. No, these family times were too important. The other women could take part or not as they pleased.

Lynn fetched the coffee mugs from the rack on the wall and went back to serving the pie. “Whipped cream or ice cream?”

“Phil will want whipped on the chocolate and ice cream on the apple.”

“Tell him to get his own then.” Josie nudged Maggie and the two swapped grins. They always said Lynn catered to her family far more than she needed to. Lynn figured she didn't cater half as much as her mother had. So perhaps it was a generational thing, one that maybe shouldn't disappear altogether.

Josie filled the coffee carafe while the others set up a tray, and Maggie carried it into the family room, where the television was now on the sports news. Both guys groaned at the same time when the hockey scores were announced.

“We can turn that off now, right?” Josie asked as she poured coffee into the mugs.

“Yes, we must.” Maggie answered a question before it could be asked. With the pie distributed, the women sat down and the clink of forks against plates was accompanied by hums and smacks of appreciation.

Tom waved his fork. “I think she's trying to soften us up.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Lynn grinned at her boys. She had finally realized that no matter if their ages said they were men, she knew they would forever be her boys. “You want more?”

“Later.” Phillip set his dish aside. “Let's get this discussion under way.” He pointed to the folder laid open on the carved pine coffee table that was heavy enough it needed two men to move it. Paul had cut jack pine off their land to make the table years earlier. Paul. Always Paul.

“Before we get into the expenses, et al, I want to know if any of you have serious concerns about my idea.” She watched as both couples glanced at one another before answering. Obviously this had been an item of discussion. Waiting was never easy for her and this was no different. But she nibbled at the pie she was eating in small bites.

Tom looked up from studying his pie crumbs. “Define serious concerns.”

“Flat out against it.” Why did she feel she was laying her life on the line? Each of them looked at her and shook their heads.

“You're not flat out against the idea?”

Maggie looked at the others, then said, “You know that we all love you and want you to get to do the things you want.”

Lynn combined a shrug and a nod.

“Within reason, of course.” Tom, as usual, managed to inject a bit of humor.

Lynn deadpanned, “Of course.” But she knew her eyes were twinkling.

“So, our concerns are the funding, and…” Maggie pointed to the folder. Heaving a sigh, she sucked in a deep breath. “…And we are being incredibly selfish; we don't want our lifestyle here to change. I mean, like all our traditions and being able to let the kids come here without advance planning and…” While the words came in a rush, she smiled when Phillip took her hand.

Lynn felt her shoulders slump in relief. “I don't see that any of that would change. I'm sure they will have careers or jobs, too. Probably, they'll be gone through the workweek. One story I read, one of the women wanted the safety of something like this because she travels for her job all the time and not worrying about her home was a plus for her.”

“Good point.” Josie nodded.

Lynn stared each of them right in the eyes, moving around the circle. “I know two new women will make a difference, but it could be a good one, you know. They will most likely be working since they are single, and we always have room for more at all our celebrations and traditions. If they want to join in, they will be welcome. And…when I talk with them, more like an interview, we will discuss this. This house has children in and out, dogs, cats, gardening, fishing, church, all the things that make up our lives.”

Maggie sat back, more relaxed, smiling.

Lynn continued, “It would be different if I were wanting to move away, but for some reason, this whole idea appeals to me. Through the years I have learned that when God wants me to do something, He sends an idea, but then persists if I try to ignore it. Or blow it off. This is like that.” She paused and watched all four of her family relax and nod or sort of smile or shrug. “You can be sure I have been praying about this, and I hope you have, too.”

“What does Lillian think?” Phillip asked.

Tom replied, “She's all in favor, looking for other people who have done this that we can talk with.”

“Figures, she doesn't live here,” Phillip muttered.

Lynn shrugged. “Be that as it may, were she to come home, there will be a place for her to sleep.” She pointed to the folder. “When Hank gave me the estimate for the garage, I had him give me two. The second one is for a two-story garage that we could finish in the upstairs as a guest room or whatever is needed.”

“Connect the garage to the house? Like where?” Phillip spread out the schematics and studied them a moment.

“An enclosed breezeway. It doesn't have to be heated. Hank says it's a good security feature for someone living alone; you don't have to go outside when you leave the garage.”