She put water on to boil and filled the silver tea ball with loose tea. The same slightly chipped white cup she had used the day before seemed to be waiting for her on the counter where she had left it. Something about being able to do that—to use the same cup two days in a row—gave her a sense of history here, brief though it might be, and it pleased her. When the tea kettle began to scream, she turned off the burner and poured her tea, swirling the tea ball around in the bottom of the cup until the color was just right. She removed the silver ball, now hot and dripping with amber liquid, and placed it on a saucer she'd left on the counter, then sat in the chair closest to the window to sip her tea and study her surroundings.
At ten o'clock on an early spring morning, Pumpkin Hill stretched out impatiently around the farm
house. The fields beyond the barn
were ready to be plowed for spring planting, and the trees were eager for their buds. There was silence where the whine of a tractor should have filled the air, stillness where the bustle of farm life should have brought the landscape to life.
How sad,
Georgia thought,
that a farm should be idle.
Absentmindedly she picked up a photo from the windowsill and studied the face of the old woman who had brought such vitality to this place, whose passing was mourned even by the land she had left behind. There was a strength in the woman's eyes, a sureness in her smile, and Georgia quietly saluted her. She replaced the photograph on the sill, and
picked up the one next to it, the one of Hope with Laura's brother, Matt. There was a third, smaller picture behind the two larger ones, and Georgia lifted it out of the sun's glare. A laughing Ally, at maybe one year old, riding atop Matt's shoulders. The same photo stood on Ally's bedside table, and when she had first seen it, Georgia had mistakenly assumed the man in the picture was Ally's father, the man and the child had seemed so in sync. She had been surprised to learn that the man was Ally's uncle. Georgia had thought at the time it was odd that Matt's picture would hold a place of honor and that Ally had no photos of her father on display.
Georgia drained the last of the tea from her cup, then rose to rinse it, pausing to gaze at the amber remains in the bottom. What had Laura said about Hope reading tea leaves?
Was there a book one could read to leant about such things?
she mused. What might that little clump of leaves near the handle signify? Or that tracing along the one side? She washed out the cup and dried it before reaching to return it to the cupboard.
The sound of tires crunching on the pebbled drive drew her attention, and she pulled aside the curtain just in time to see the local law emerge from a dark blue police car. She left the warmth of the kitchen and went out the back door.
"Hello!" she called. "Chief Monroe?"
"Yes." The short, middle-aged officer with a slight paunch removed his police cap as he walked across the yard toward Georgia. "You must be Georgia. Laura called and said you'd be waiting. Have you had a chance to look around?"
"Yes. The house is fine. No sign of anyone even going near it. There is something I think you should see over here, though." Georgia pointed to the garden. "It looks like someone went on a tear in here."
Chief Monroe went to the fence and peered over it. "
Hmmph
. Would you look at that?"
He pushed open the gate and walked up and down the disheveled rows.
"Hmmph,"
he said again.
"Why do you suppose they did that?" Georgia asked, pointing to the uprooted plants.
Chief Monroe shook his head. "Doesn't look like kids did this. For one thing, they swore they didn't do anything but sneak into the ba
rn
. Said they never came near the house, and from what you're telling me, they didn't. I'll ask them about the garden, but to tell you the truth, it doesn't look like something kids would do in the dark, you know what I mean?"
"Well, it's curious, Chief. Laura and I were here yesterday, and th
e garden was just as neat as…
as if it had been tended last week."
"I'll ask the kids again." He nodded slowly. "In the meantime, we'll keep an eye on the place as best we can. But as I reminded Laura, we're a very small, rural department and don't have a lot of man-hours to spare. She and Matt should make some sort of arrangements to secure the property. Last night's group wanted nothing more than a place to drink a few beers. Who's to say that the next time someone won't get careless with a cigarette? It would be a terrible shame if something were to happen to the ba
rn
or to the old farmhouse. The Evans place has been part of this community for two hundred years. I'll do my best to look after it, but I sure wish Laura
would rent the place out. At least there'd be someone on the premises, know what I mean?"
Georgia knew what he meant.
She thanked him as he got back into his car and waved good-bye as if to an old friend when he turned the car around and headed down the drive to the narrow country road that would lead him back into town.
Georgia loaded the glass jars of preserves carefully into the Jeep in two trips, then returned to the house to lock up, making one last round through the first floor, reluctant to leave. This was a house that had been filled with purpose, with peace, and she felt the comfort of both. Having no real reason to stay on, and knowing that Jody was awaiting the bounty from Hope's cupboard, Georgia left through the back door, locked it behind her, and climbed back into the Jeep. She pulled out of the driveway and headed toward Bishop's Cove, hardly noticing the battered black pickup that sped past her in the opposite direction just as she entered the first curve in the road.
"
W
hy do you suppose someone would do that?" Laura frowned after Georgia told her about the mayhem she'd found in the garden. "I really hate it that there's no one there. I wish Matt could come back and take over."
"Why can't he?" Georgia asked.
"Matt trained under a truly wonderful vet when he was in school. Dr. Espey was very, very good to him, helped him out in many ways. Matt did his internship with him, and planned to open his own clinic at Pumpkin Hill. Dr. Espey had a stroke last fall, and
Matt stayed on to keep his clinic running. He'll stay there as long as Dt. Espey wants him to. As much as I hate having the farm vacant, I couldn't ask Matt to come back while he's still needed there. Dr. Espey loves Matt like a son, and Matt loves him like a second father." Laura tapped her fingers on the counter. "I wrote out an ad for the local paper. I think I'll run it in the
Baltimore Sun,
as well. Here. Read it over. How does this sound?"
Tenant wanted! 97 acres with fully furnished farmhouse, ba
rn
, chicken house. Available immediately. Please
call
…
"Does that sound too desperate?" Laura frowned.
"It sounds to the point."
"You know, I hate the thought of strangers moving in to Aunt Hope's house. Sleeping in her bed. Using the things she used, things that have been in our family for so many years. I guess we'll have to take a weekend and pack up the things of sentimental value so that her dishes and her collection of old cut-glass vases don't get broken or stolen. I really do hate this, Georgia. I just don't have much choice."
"Actually, you do." Georgia said softly.
"How do you figure?"
"Why not rent the farm to me?" The words were out of Georgia's mouth before she could give herself a chance to change her mind about the idea that had been blossoming inside her since she had poured that cup of tea in the old kitchen just a few hours earlier. "I'll be your tenant. I'll stay at Pumpkin Hill."
"But why would you want to do that? It's miles from everything, it
's in the middle of nowhere…
"
"The middle of nowhere is fine for now. I've been
wanting to get away from the ci
ty, have some time to myself. Why not Pumpkin Hill?"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive." Georgia nodded. "I thought about it on the way back today. I like it there. I like the way I feel when I'm there. It's exactly the feeling I left Baltimore to find."
"But your
condo…
"
"I'll call my friend Lee. He always seems to know someone coming in from out of town—dancers, actors—looking for a furnished place to lease for a few months."
"Georgia, I'd be delighted to have you at the farm. Thrilled, to tell you the truth."
"Good. Then we're both delighted. You have your tenant and I have a lovely old farm all to myself. We both win. Call Chief Monroe and call your brother and tell them that neither of them has to worry. I'll drive back to Baltimore tomorrow to get my things together, then I'll move i
n over the weekend, if that's
all right with you."
"That would be wonderful. Great." Laura nodded as Georgia hugged her and happily skipped from the room.
"Great," Laura repeated to herself as she reached for the phone to place a call to the police to let them know the farm would be inhabited by the weekend.
Then she'd have to call Matt. Laura grimaced at the thought of it.
Telling Matt that she'd found a tenant was one thing. Telling him that she'd agreed to lease Pumpkin Hill to Georgia Enright was something else.
seven
G
eorgia's move from her Baltimore condo to Pumpkin Hill was relatively painless and without complication. With the help of her sister Zoey, who had a rare weekend off from her job as a sales host for the nationally televised Home Marketplace home shopping network, it took but two days to pack clothes, books, music, and some personal items. As she had hoped, Lee did in fact know of a stage actor who would be in Balt
imore for six months in an off-
Broadway production and was eager to find a place to hang his hat while he was in the city. As she locked the condo door behind her, Georgia had handed the key to Lee so that he could show the apartment to the actor on the following Tuesday.
By mobilizing her family and packing each of their cars with boxes, suitcases and garment bags, Georgia was able to make the move in one trip. Mrs. Colson, her mother's housekeeper, had piled hampers of food for the moving crew into the back of Delia's car. Once the move was completed, a wonderful midaftemoon
feast awaited, reheated and served by Nick's wife, India, and her aunt, August Devlin, on the old pine table in the dining room at Pumpkin Hill.
"Just look at the view you have from these windows!" Delia had exclaimed as she had gone from room to room. "Why, in a month or so, the trees will be all leafed out and there will be buds on those apple trees. And those lilacs will
be in bloom before too long…
do make sure you cut bunches of them and bring them inside." Delia sniffed at the imaginary scent and sighed. "Heaven!"
"Not bad, Georgia," her brother had remarked, nodding his approval after making the obligatory inspection of the farmhouse's mechanics and locks. "It's secure and well maintained. Of course, we'd all feel better if you
weren't living here alone…
"
"Or at the very least, get a dog," Zoey suggested.
"We'll loan you one of ours," Ben Pierce, Zoey's
fianc
é
, volunteered. "I'll bring Dozer to visit for a while. By the time you're ready to send him back, maybe you'll have him housebroken."
"Ah, thanks, guys," Georgia laughed, "but I don't think I want to take on the responsibility of a dog right now. Besides, I don't know how long I'll be here."
"I thought you didn't really have an official lease." Six months pregnant, the diminutive India sagged against the doorway for support.
"We don't." Georgia nodded somewhat absently as she sorted through the boxes. "We're basically taking it month to month, but who knows where I'll go from here? Nick," she turned to her brother, "would you carry these boxes of clothes upstairs for me?"
"Sure." He hoisted a carton onto his shoulder. "Which bedroom are you using?"
Georgia paused to ponder this. The rooms she had seen on the second floor—Laura's old room and those of Matt and the departed Aunt Hope—had all seemed to still belong to someone else. She wouldn't feel comfortable moving in to any one of them. The guest room would have to do.
"You could leave everything in that front bedroom," she told Nick. "The one to the right of the steps."
"How 'bout these boxes of books?" Zoey asked.
"Just leave them in the living room."
"Your stereo?"
"Living room." Georgia nodded.
"Are you sure you have enough juice for all that electronic equipment?" Nick stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, mentally trying to calculate the power requirements of the stereo with its CD, tape, and recording components, the television and VCR combination, and the microwave oven that Laura and Ben were carrying into the kitchen. "Sometimes old places like this have low wattage electrical service."
"Oh, it shouldn't be a problem." Laura poked her head through doorway. "My aunt had the service upgraded to two hundred amps about five years ago when she got the new refrigerator and stove, so there's more than enough for whatever electronic toys you brought with you. The service even runs
out to the barn
."
"Well, then,
I
can just hook up that CD player and
serenade the wild cats you mentioned." Georgia grinned.
"Mommy, Corri found an old can in the ba
rn
that has a momma mouse and babies in it!" A breathless Ally flew into the house through the back door.
"She didn't bring it in here, did she?" Delia, who'd been leaning over a box of table linens on the dining room floor, stood up and appeared to cringe slightly.
"No. But she wants to take them home," Ally said wide-eyed. "Can she do that?"
"No!" August and India responded in unison.
"We have plenty of mice of our own in Devlin's Light," India told Ally. "Tell Corri to put the can back where she found it, and then come in to get cleaned up to eat."
"And both of you leave your shoes out on the back porch," Laura called after her daughter, who was fleeing toward the ba
rn
to relay instructions.
"Take a can of mice babies back home!" India shivered. "What will that child think of next?"
"Georgia, what do you want me to do with these tablecloths you brought with you?" Delia asked.
"There are tons of things there in the sideboard," Laura pointed out. "Leave your things packed and use Aunt Hope's."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to do that," Georgia told her. "Besides, I'm not planning on any social event more formal than this little feast we're having this afternoon. Nope, after today, it's that lovely little nook in the kitchen for me, where I can watch the birds—"
"Damn. I meant to buy some birdseed for those feeders." Laura made a face to express her displeasure at having forgotten.
"I'll get some tomorrow," Georgia said.
"Go into Tanner's right in the middle of town," Laura told her. "Tell Mr. Tanner you're living here and that you want to set up an account."
"What's Tanner's?" Georgia stepped around India on her way to the sink to fill the coffeepot with water.
"It's the general store in O'Hea
rn
. It carries just about everything, including hardware, videos and books, and food—human and livestock. You can't miss it. It's in a big red building that looks sort of like a ba
rn
."
"Speaking of ba
rn
s, I think I'll go on over and get the two girls," India said.
"I'll go with you." Nick put his arm around his wife. "It will give us an opportunity to look around the rest of Georgia's new domain."
"Aren't they just perfect together?" Zoey sighed as she watched her brother and sister-in-law wander down the drive. "And isn't India perfectly adorable with that little baby-tummy?"
"Does India know whether she is having a boy or a girl?" Laura asked.
"No." Delia shook her head. "She wants to be surprised."
"Another little girl in the family would be fun," Georgia mused. "Maybe with India's blond curls and Nicky's soft brown eyes
…"
"Or a little boy with dark hair like Nick's, and India's sweet smile
…
" Delia offered. "What fun to anticipate. I love both of my granddaughters dearly, but they both came to me after the fact, so to speak. This is the first time I've been able to dream over a baby that's on it's way, and I rather like it."
Delia pushed aside one of the living room curtains and watched as Corri and Ally spilled from the ba
rn
door and ran toward the edge of the back field where Nick stood with his arms around his wife. Corri—the adopted daughter of first India's brother, then of India when her brother Ry had died—had become her granddaughter when Nick had married India. That she was not of Delia's blood had made no difference to her. The child was Nick's and India's, and therefore she was Delia's, as well. Delia had found Ally when her private detective had located Laura. Finding her firstborn had been nothing short of a miracle to Delia, and finding Ally had been the icing on the cake. Delia watched the children from the window of the old farmhouse and felt her heart swell. There was nothing—nothing that could take the place of a close and loving family, and she thanked the heavens for the joy of sharing a day in the country with her loved ones.
Smiling at her good fortune, Delia hummed as she went in search of her jacket. She would join the children outside and perhaps do a little exploring with them. Ally had mentioned a special tree that grew in the middle of the back field, and Laura had spoken of a pond. The clouds of the morning had been burned off by an unseasonably warm sun. It would be a good day to walk with her granddaughters and see what they could see.
Delia found her jacket on the back of one of the dining room chairs, and swung it over her shoulder as she walked through the kitchen on her way outside. Laura, Georgia, Zoey, and Ben were trudging down to the basement in search of some of Hope's preserves, and Delia could hear their arguments over what kind to ope
n. She smiled at the sound of th
e good-natured bickering and sighed happily, so content on this day. She paused in the kitchen, then poured herself a fresh cup of steaming coffee to take along on her walk, reflecting on recent events.
Delia had been initially concerned about Georgia's decision to back away from dance, and needed to assure herself that her youngest child was making a decision she could live with for however long she chose to stay away. Georgia's announcement had been unexpected, but it was not necessarily a bad thing.
Georgia had chosen to deny herself much of her childhood, had all but skipped her teen years to concentrate on her love for the dance. If she felt she needed to explore her options, then explore she should. And Pumpkin Hill was a grand place for such reflection, with its wide fields and fresh air and peaceful solitude of the very best sort. A person could think here, could turn their sights inside and see what they were made of, where they had been, and where they wanted to go. Yes, Delia conceded, Georgia would be fine here, for however long she needed to stay.
Reaching across th
e kitchen table for the sugar bowl, Delia's sight fell upon the photos lined up across the window ledge. She lifted the one closest to her, the one of Matt and Hope, much as Georgia had done. Not for the first time, she regretted never having met Hope Evans Carter.
"You watched over one of my daughters for many a summer," Delia whispered to the weathered face in
the photograph. "Would it be too much for me to ask for you to look after another one of my girls now?"
Delia returned the photo to its place on the ledge, her eyes lingering on the image of Matt Bishop's smiling face.
"And as for you, my fine fellow," she said softly to the photo, "don't you think for a minute that we'll let you remain outside the fold for much longer. Sooner or later, one of us will find a way around that barrier you've erected, and we'll draw you in. It's cold out there alone, Matthew, and there's lots of love here to be shared. And you may not know it now, but we will need each other if we are to help Laura over the
months ahead. There's something
…
something
not
quite right, I see it in her face. So you see, my boy, it's really only a matter of time
…
"
M
att dragged one hand through his dark hair and made a mental note that he'd gone far too long between haircuts. It was eleven-thirty on Saturday night and he was tired clear down to the bone. Up at i three
a
.
m
.
following a frantic phone call from a breeder of Lhasa apsos whose champion show bitch had gone into a troubled labor, he'd driven through a nasty storm to get to the breeder's home in time to whelp the litter, only two puppies of which had survived. From there he had gone into the clinic, stopping first at a local convenience store only long enough to grab a large coffee to go and arriving just in time to see his first appointment, a collie with chronic hepatitis.
The day had spun past at a dizzying pace. Because
it was Saturday, his last patient had been scheduled for noon. Unfortunately, he'd already been running a half hour late when
his eleven-thirty appointment—
routine inoculations for a springer spaniel—was interrupted by a motorist who'd struck a Gordon setter about a quarter mile down the road from the clinic and wanted help for the setter, who was still lying where he'd been hit. Matt made his apologies to the owner of the springer and drove the pickup to the scene of the accident. The setter was badly injured and required immediate surgery. Fortunately, Liz had been able to track the dog's owner from the address on the tag that hung from the collar, and Matt had the permission he needed to start working on the dog. He'd been in surgery for four hours. Once finished, he had just enough time to run home, shower and change, and drive a half hour to attend the local SPCA's annual fund-raising banquet, where he'd given a speech about responsible pet ownership.
Now, as the clock neared midnight, Matt was drained. Too tired to read, too tired to talk. Too tired to move. He fell asleep in his favorite chair and slept until Artie woke him to be let out at six in the morning. Matt stood in the doorway, looking out over the yard behind his rented house. Dense fog hung like fat damp clouds over the grass and cast an eerie glow over a quiet Sunday morning. Even Artie was subdued, going about his business in an efficient manner, for once not pausing to sniff at places where others might have been during the night, and returned to where his master stood without even waiting for Matt to call him.