“Almost,” Nessa answered. “I’ve got a few more things to bring in.”
What is it about that bedroom that spooks April? What kind of memory would do that to a grown woman?
The same kind as being put in a dark pantry or sent to my room to pray for what seemed like eternity, she thought. How is it that I never realized April was so unhappy living here?
“Then I’ll get a few of Nanny Lucy’s old coats out of the closet while you do that,” April said. “I’ll put them in trash bags, and we can store them in the garage until we figure out what we want to do with them.”
Nessa nodded as she left the musty-smelling house, exiting into the scent of roses permeating the air outside. Grumbling under her breath about how her two cousins hadn’t offered to help her bring in the boxes, she hauled them in by herself and set them on the table and counters. “Thank you both for all the help.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
“All you had to do was ask.” April carried two large bags out into the garage.
Nessa shot a dirty look her way. “I shouldn’t have to ask.”
“Did you help bring in our things?” Flynn asked as he passed through the kitchen and into the garage. He pulled on a rope and brought a ladder down from the opening in the ceiling to the attic. “I’m going up to see what I need up here, and if I do need anything, I will ask.”
“Oh, hush!” Nessa began to unload her boxes onto the table.
“Everything I own is dirty,” April said, “so I’m starting a load of laundry at least to get stuff rinsed. I already checked, and we’re about out of detergent, so I put it on the list. We’ll need to go by the bank and cash the check the lawyer gave me so I can pay my third of whatever we buy today.” She left the door to the garage open and was back in a couple of minutes.
“I’ll cover the grocery bill this week. You can get it next time we go.” Nessa opened the refrigerator to find it totally empty. “I wonder who did this,” she said as she moved on to the pantry, “and this.”
“What?” April sat down at the table and picked up the pen to make notes.
“Cleaned out everything. The pantry has a few cans of food, but the flour and sugar canisters are empty. There’s nothing in the fridge,” Nessa answered.
“Kind of like us,” April muttered. “We’re empty, and hoping that we—”
“All of us are bringing baggage to Blossom,” Nessa butted in before her cousin could finish. Sometimes the way to help was called tough love. April didn’t need mollycoddling, as Nanny Lucy used to call it when one of them thought they needed babying. She needed to realize she wasn’t the only one who had lived through hard knocks. “You aren’t the only one with dirty laundry. I brought a load with me, too—both real and otherwise.”
“Moving on, then.” April set her mouth in a firm line. “I’ve written down milk and bread.”
Flynn came through the still-open garage door with a frown on his face. “I saw a mouse up there and got to wondering about Waylon. There’s no way a mouse would dare show his beady little eyes in this house if that old tomcat was still alive. Did Nanny Lucy tell either of you that he’d died?”
“Last time I talked to her, she said her third Waylon cat was celebrating his fifth birthday. That would have been a week before Christmas,” Nessa answered.
“She called him Waylon the Third,” April said. “Remember the summer that Waylon Sr. died?”
“Oh, yes—we were eight years old,” Flynn said. “We had the funeral for him out under the pecan tree in the backyard, right?”
“Nanny Lucy wanted to put him in a plastic trash bag and throw him in the dumpster,” April said, “but Nessa started to cry, and she caved in and let us bury him. I’m telling you, girl, she always did like you the best.”
“Yeah, right!” Nessa had forgotten about that day, but a lump formed in her throat at the memory. “Mama and Daddy never let me have pets, so that was my first time to deal with death. I cried until I got the hiccups. Later, Mama and Daddy dragged me to every funeral that was held in our church, but I never cried as much over those folks as I did over poor old Waylon. I wonder what happened to the newest Waylon when Nanny Lucy passed away so suddenly.”
“Hopefully, someone took him in and gave him a good home.” Flynn brushed the cobwebs from his arms. “I don’t think anyone’s been up in the attic in years, and April, you’re right, that wiring is so old that there’s no way it would support even one air conditioner. We should just have central heat and air installed.”
“That would cost a fortune,” April gasped.
“Let’s don’t do something that radical until we see how things go around here.” Nessa didn’t want to put up a third of the money for such an expensive unit, and April sure didn’t have those kinds of dollars stashed away. Nessa would be surprised if her cousin had twenty bucks in her purse.
“I guess as small as this place is, we can make do with three window units. One for each of the two bedrooms and one for the living room. We can get those for about a hundred dollars each,” Flynn said. “Y’all about ready to go?”
“Almost,” Nessa answered. “I’ll buy the unit for my bedroom to help out.”
“Me too,” April agreed.
Nessa was about to offer to pay for April’s window unit. The only money her cousin had was the small endowment their grandmother had left her, and that would have to last until April found a job.
“No worries. I’ll gladly buy all three if you won’t make me quilt.” Flynn grinned.
Nessa appreciated the gesture and the fact that Flynn had a soft heart—even if he wasn’t looking forward to stitching up a quilt.
April shook her finger at him. “You are going to put as many stitches in that quilt as me and Nessa. I’ll give you the money for the air conditioner in the living room since that’s where I’ll be sleeping, but I was totally honest when I said I was broke. If you want the money for it today, you’ll have to stop at a bank and let me cash the check that the lawyer gave me.”
“And my answer to that dumb idea of you not quilting is hell, no!” Nessa added.
The noise of a car coming up the gravel driveway made all three of them stop and look out through the old wooden screen door.
“Who would be coming out here?” Flynn asked.
“Could be the folks from the electric company,” Nessa offered. “The lawyer said that we’d have to get things arranged with them to keep the power hooked up.”
“Anybody home?” a loud voice called out, and then there was the sound of footsteps on the porch.
“Come on in, Stella!” April yelled.
“Who’s Stella?” Flynn asked.
“That’s one of the ladies from Nanny Lucy’s quilting club. You’ll remember her when you see her. She hasn’t changed much since we were teenagers,” April explained in a low voice. “I’d know her raspy smoker’s voice anywhere. I used to steal cigarettes from her purse when she came to club meetings.”
“Good God,” Nessa gasped. “Do you still smoke? If you do, you’ll have to take your nasty habit outside. Nanny Lucy didn’t allow anyone to smoke or drink or use bad language on her property.”