I took the pie and thanked her. She then waved a hand at the decorations. “Bee would be so proud of this. Just seeing the smoke coming from the chimney makes my days brighter. It is good to have you back, Sailor.”
“Thank you, Margie,” I said. “It’s good to be back. It’s not the same without Gran, but it still feels like home.”
Margie nodded her head. “And it is! This is your home. This house has belonged to a Hobbs since it was built in 1856. The bloodline must live on here.”
“Thank you,” I said, not sure what else to say to that.
“Henry is coming over to wrap your outdoor faucets later and he’s called Mike at the tire shop to come get your car and get snow tires put on. When Creed called Henry yesterday to ask him to help you get those things done, I thought how kind that boy still is. We are happy to help. Henry is retired now and he has nothing to do unless Dan brings his kids over for us to watch.”
Creed again. The warmth in my chest came as if on command.
“Creed asked you?” I had heard her but I wanted to clarify.
She nodded. “Of course he did. Fine young man he’s become. Now, I have to get back home and prepare for my two grandbabies to visit before they go trick-or-treating. You call if you need anything. Come on over and knock whatever.”
“Thank you, I will,” I told her.
I watched her leave while holding the pie in one hand and my candy apple in the other, trying not to feel anything where Creed was concerned. Why was he doing this? Was this his attempt at trying to mend our past and be friends.
If only it were possible to just be friends with Creed Sullivan.
nine
November 3, 2019
Last night had felt several hours longer than just the extra hour that Daylight Savings Time added. The weekend itself had been tedious and lonely. I’d started out by going out to find trees still full of color and take photos, but they were all looking more bare than beautiful. I had given up and moved back indoors.
I worked on getting Gran’s clothing boxed up, well most of it. I kept a few warm sweaters to use. They reminded me of Gran and this weekend, I had needed the comfort. My clothing was now all put away in its new home. I had also managed to unpack some of my picture frames and set them about. I put the photos of myself that Gran had sitting all over the place away and replaced them with pictures I had framed. Those of me and Griff, some of just Griff, two I had of me and Gran, one of me and Dad last summer, and the only picture I had with Mom in the past ten years.
It was starting to look a little more like I lived here. Putting all of Gran’s things away didn’t feel right. I wanted her things around me. It was as if a piece of her was still here. I put several of my boxes in the attic, not needing those things right now. There were less boxes sitting about and I felt accomplished.
Determined to enjoy my day, I made some homemade hot cocoa that I found in Gran’s rolodex and sat down in front of my impressive fire to watch a Christmas movie. The Hallmark Channel was already full force Christmas and Halloween was barely over. I wasn’t complaining, though I needed some cheer.
Griff hadn’t called me all weekend. He’d sent one text yesterday asking how I was and after I responded in a three-paragraph text, he only said “Good” and that was it. I found it insulting, but I had to remind myself he was busy with his studies. I ate more Marlborough pie to soothe my feelings.
Today would be a good day. I was going to make it one. I was also going to look for a job online after I stopped being holly and jolly on the sofa. Sipping my hot cocoa, I decided if I didn’t love meat so much, I could be a Vegan. The soy milk half and half I used to make the cocoa was surprisingly delicious. I could easily make Gran’s recipes non-vegan, but something about making it exactly the way she made it felt nice. It helped the ache I felt when I saw something that brought back a memory of my time with her. Which was daily since I was living in her house now.
Just as the girl who was forced home to the blueberry farm to save the family business…had to leave her big city life in New York…bumps into the local restaurant owner who lost his wife to cancer several years ago…and is raising his daughter all alone, there was a knock on my door. I hoped no one else was bringing me a pie because I was going to have to run three extra miles a day after eating so much of the Marlborough pie Margie gave me.