While I listened patiently, I stretched as far as I could and hooked my finger in the hole at the end of the pan’s handle. My heart went out to him. I knew how hard Sarah could be to deal with at times. I murmured that I hoped they’d be able to connect soon.
Peter cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to unload on you like this. Could you give me your address there, please?”
“It’s 327 Main Street, Millbury, Pennsylvania.” I eased the pan slowly close enough to grab, hoping the pile didn’t collapse with an almighty crash. He was probably planning to send Sarah flowers or something.
“Well, I’d better let you go,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Nice talking to you, Peter.”
“You, too.”
Clutching the prized pan, I hung up the phone and made my way back into the kitchen that had no cabinets, or countertops, or floor.
I poured some more wine and filled the dog’s water bowl. A few minutes later, the smell of bread frying in butter went a long way toward soothing my frazzled nerves.
As the storm pounded the windows outside, I curled up on the couch, gave Jasper a corner of my sandwich, and discovered that a forty-five-dollar 2006 Sonoma Valley Syrah actually went quite well with grilled cheese.
Chapter Fifteen
I got up early the next morning and took Jasper for a walk.
It was a clear, sunny morning, as if the storm had washed the world and left it fresh and clean again.
At the intersection of Main Street and Grist Mill Road, next to the Historical Society in its one-room schoolhouse, Jasper sniffed intently at the massive oak tree. Sort of like a message board for dogs.
I couldn’t bear the thought of him shut up in a New York apartment all day. Would Sarah make the proper arrangements for him while she worked late, or would he be sitting there in the dark, patiently waiting while his bladder was fit to burst?
Damn it.
Sarah and Joe had come in last night around 10 p.m., full of tales about the movie and the neighbors they’d seen having dinner at the Bridgewater Inn. Sounded like she and Debby had had fun at the concert, too. They’d met Robin Tague at the reception afterward and he’d signed autographs for them. I’d asked if he had used a fountain pen, but it was only a regular ballpoint.
Two kids were throwing a football to each other in the middle of the street. As I waited for Jasper to finish his business, I remembered the old photos of Ramsbottom in his football uniform standing proudly next to his father. Had Angus’s actions ruined his character? How would he have turned out otherwise?
You’d like to think life would get clearer as you got older, but it never did.
Friday was another busy day at the store. I’d definitely decided to give the dollhouse to Claire for her birthday at the end of October. It was rather an expensive present for a child, but Patsy couldn’t afford to buy her much, and I knew Claire would treasure it. It would be a fun project to fix up, and I made a list of the items I’d need to keep an eye out for. There was some furniture already inside, but it needed a dining table and chairs and accessories for the bedrooms, such as bedspreads and lamps.
I scanned the local paper for upcoming auctions. The ads often listed the types of items that would be up for bid, and even specific descriptions of particularly nice pieces. There were a couple that looked promising. There should be plenty of yard sales going on tomorrow, too.
Patsy came flying in around 3 p.m.
“Hey, Daisy, I have a huge favor to ask you! Sarah and I want to go to the pub tonight, and I thought my sister could babysit, but it turns out she has plans. Would you mind watching Claire for a couple of hours?”
Sarah certainly has an active social life all of a sudden.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll come over to your sister’s house, though. Our place is a disaster right now with the kitchen remodel.”
Patsy’s sister lived in a nice end-unit townhome in a development called Quarry Ridge. She was the one who watched Claire in the mornings before school when Patsy had to be at the diner by 6 a.m.
“Thanks, Daisy. And guess what? Betty asked me to do an auction with her on Sunday at a house on Swamp Pike.”
I raised an eyebrow. Betty hadn’t even asked for my help this time. She must really be taking over the reins of the business.
I’d been to a few whole house auctions with Angus. I liked them, often more so than the regular ones. The auctioneer would bring everything necessary with him to the house—tables to display the items, a microphone, cash register, and even a snack trailer and Porta-Potties for the larger auctions. Some had quite the party atmosphere going on.
After Patsy left, I called Joe to let him know about the babysitting.