“You know I’m talking about home,” she replied.
Home. That was an interesting word. I never thought of the mansion I grew up in as a home. It was a showcase not a home. A place where nannies took care of me and my parents visited me. Nothing more.
“I just got a job at an art museum,” I told her, not bothering to give her details. She wouldn’t want them.
“Good luck getting to a job when the blizzards hit and you’re snowed in for weeks. It’s a frozen tundra there. I ran away as quickly as I could. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to live in the Northeast. You have everything you could want here including art museums.”
I wasn’t sure why my mother wanted me in Nashville. It wasn’t as if we spent time together. I rarely saw her. She jetsetted all over the world with her new man or friends. My being there or here should not affect her at all. The woman did not miss me. I knew that much.
“I like frozen tundras,” I replied simply.
I could feel her rolling her eyes. “You know nothing of the cold there.”
I knew I felt at home again since the last summer I spent with Gran. I didn’t say that because I learned a long time ago telling my mother the truth led to her having a complete ranting meltdown. She preferred the lies in which she spun for herself. I preferred to keep her happy and to keep my distance.
“I’m almost at the house. I need to get the fire going and fix myself some dinner,” I told her, in hopes of ending this conversation.
“Very well, go pretend to enjoy the cold,” she said. “Kiss kiss,” she added then hung up the phone.
Esma “Honey” Hobbs Copeland Muldoon never said “bye” or “I love you” when ending a call and she always hung up first. I was just thankful she had hung up.
Pulling into the driveway, I pulled under the small carport big enough for only one vehicle, but I knew I was going to be very thankful for it when the snow came. The house was going to be cold, and I grabbed the metal bucket beside the woodshed and filled it up before heading for the back door of the house. When I did things like this, it made me think of Gran doing these things. I’d never been here to see her in the winter, but I knew she’d done the same daily tasks. She would be happy to know I was here now doing them. The thought of that made the conversation with my mother seem unimportant. This was where I belonged.
Pulling out the key to the house, I unlocked the door and picked the wood bucket up then went inside. It wasn’t as cold as I had feared, but it was chilly. I kept my coat on while I went to work heating things up. Once the kitchen stove was going, I stood in front of it while I opened the bottle of wine and poured myself a glass.
I was still standing in front of the warmth when I poured myself a second glass then picked up an apple from the bowl on the table and took a bite. I hadn’t stopped for lunch today, and I wasn’t hungry, but the wine was getting to me. I wanted to be on time for work in the morning and not hungover. I would need more than an apple for that.
I was almost warm enough to take off my coat when I finished my second glass of wine. Moving from the kitchen stove to the living room, I poked at the fire in the fireplace and then went to hang up my coat and scarf. Glancing over at my phone, I saw I hadn’t missed a call or text. Frowning, I decided I’d drink one more glass of wine with a turkey sandwich. No need to let Griff being too busy get me down.
The simple task of making a sandwich and cutting up a cucumber for my dinner made me smile again. Either it was that or the wine. I wasn’t sure. I poured another glass then went to sit beside the stove. The warmth felt wonderful. I could easily drink enough so that I wouldn’t miss Griff.
Today had been too good to let Griff being busy get me down. He’d call when he had a chance. He always did. I worried he wasn’t eating properly with all his studying and considered going to visit him just to buy some groceries. I wanted to see him too of course. He hadn’t invited me to visit whenever I wanted though. That reminder made me sad again, and with a sigh, I picked up my sandwich.
Just before I took a bite, there was a knock at my door. Frowning, I set my sandwich down and looked at the front door. Who the heck was here this late? Getting back up, I went to open it.