Boxed In(46)
“It sounded like Cecil will be coming tomorrow,” Annie said after Peggy had gone.
“Yes, he enjoys being on the water,” responded Ian. “I can pick you up on my way to Ocean View, if you like.”
“Can I meet you at the dock? I’ll probably walk.”
“Sure, we should be there by twelve fifteen. Do you know where Todd keeps his boat? We’re using the lobster boat, so I hope you weren’t expecting a yacht.”
“I’ve seen Todd’s boat at the dock. I’m sure I can find it. John would be more excited to see photos of a real lobster boat, or any kind of working boat, than a luxury one. I’m glad we’re not going fancy.”
“At least we don’t have the same problem at the harbor as some waterfront towns. Some places with ledges too shallow for boats to dock used to need a bos’n’s chair to bring people ashore.”
“What’s a bos’n’s chair?” asked Annie.
“You’ve seen those big swings at carnivals that move in a circle, haven’t you? The faster they go, the higher they swing out.”
Annie smiled at the thought; she had loved riding them as a child. “Yes, I do. They always had them at the county fair.”
“Picture one of those swings chained to a large boom. People would sit in the chair to be swung to and from the boat.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Annie, grinning as she pictured the process. “Though I’d be less than thrilled swinging around in the layers of long skirts and corsets women had to wear a hundred years ago.”
“So you won’t be working at any living-history museums any time soon?”
“No, sir! The closest thing to living history I’m going to do is use Gram’s recipe to make rose-hip jelly.” Annie glanced at her watch. “In fact, I should get going. I think the hips might be ripe enough today, and I don’t want the day to get away from me. I might end up picking with a headlamp strapped to my Aggies cap.” Annie stood.
Ian stood to escort her to the door. “Thank you for keeping me company while I ate. I’ll see you tomorrow, Annie. I’ve got your tea.”
“Thanks for the tea, Ian, and thank you for your help.” Waving to Peggy, Annie left the diner and walked to her car. She lowered her car windows for the drive back to Grey Gables, craving the sea air against her face. Once home she paid a quick visit to the beach roses to check the ripeness of the hips. What looked like thousands of them were now bright red and firm, no longer hard, and Annie could see plenty were free of blemishes—perfect for her first batch of jelly. Returning to the house, she called Alice to let her know picking time had arrived. As she waited for her helper, she rummaged around for a couple of buckets and gardening gloves. Rose-hip harvesting was a thorny job.
Strolling to the rose bushes, Annie realized she had forgotten to tell Alice to bring gloves. She set the buckets down and turned toward the house to call Alice again, but she had only taken two steps when her friend appeared.
“Oh, good, you brought gloves,” Annie said as Alice approached. “I was going to call you again.”
“The autumn months are my busiest months for Princessa jewelry shows. I can’t demonstrate my samples with my hands scratched from fingertips to wrist, can I?” Alice also wore her anorak, a smart choice to protect her arms from the bite of thorns and the chill of late afternoon. She slipped her Princessa-worthy hands into her gloves. “Let me at ’em.”
Annie handed her a bucket and pointed to a large bush a few yards downhill. “Let’s start with that one,” she said, as she put her gloves on too. “It’s so hippy we could call it voluptuous.” They positioned themselves on opposite sides of the bush and began picking the bright red hips, leaving the orange ones behind to ripen more.
Alice placed a juicy hip in the bottom of her bucket. “Are you going to make the jelly tomorrow? I’m thinking of making scones for the big taste test.”
“In the morning,” Annie said, cupping a hand around a hip and pulling until, with a faint pop, it came off the stem. “I have to have it done by noon.”
“Why?” asked Alice. “Are you going somewhere in the afternoon?”
“Yes, I am. I’m going whale watching with the Butler brothers and Cecil Lewey.”
“That sounds fun. I’m a little surprised Ian is taking off during the week, though,” Alice said, the bottom of her bucket covered with rose hips. “Uncharacteristic of him.”
Annie reached deeper into the bush for a particularly delicious-looking hip, glad for her thick denim jacket. “Not as much as you might think. First, Ian said he and the commissioners just finalized the budget. He racked up tons of comp time, as you can imagine. Second, he was characteristically being kind to one of his townsfolk.”