Page 72 of The Treasure House

“Do you think we need a fire yet?” Flo asked hopefully. “It’s cold, don’t you think? Doris? Gary? Don’t you think it’s cold?”

Jake had checked the chimneys and stored a load of wood for us in the wood hutch near the outbuildings, but we hadn’t had a fire yet. Mostly because the parlor was still too cluttered, and I’d only just cleared out the dining room. I turned to check with Jake and found him hanging back on the threshold of the dining room, looking pale and haunted.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“Yeah.” He seemed to gather himself. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… nice. Seeing the room like this. The table…” He shrugged. “It’s nice.”

“I’d forgotten what it looked like,” Elton joked. He sat himself down at the table. “This was where I sat when I first met Sylvie’s folks.”

It took a minute for that to sink in. “Wait. This was Sylvie’s family place?” I remembered the first day I’d met Elton, when he’d said this house had held some of his happiest memories. I glanced at Jake. “Does that mean you and Elton are related too?”

Jake shrugged. “I told you, everyone’s related to everyone around here.”

“Are you related to him?” I asked Doris.

“Lord, no. My people are from Augusta.”

“I don’t know exactly what our relation is,” Elton admitted to Jake. “Second cousins by marriage?”

Jake shrugged.

I frowned. “So, Marly was who in all this? Sylvie’s sister?”

“Marly was Sylvie’s cousin,” Elton corrected me.

I would have liked to learn more, but Colleen arrived then, bringing a container of cookies and another bottle of wine. She’d dressed for dinner in a flowing knit top that came down to her knees and she’d turned her pop beads into a long loopy necklace. She had a pair of jingly sea glass earrings in.

“Oh, my goodness, look at this!” she exclaimed, as she came into the dining room. “You’ve been so busy.”

“We have,” I agreed, pleased by her enthusiasm.

“Mom! Pizza’s here!” Flo came barreling out of the kitchen, holding up my phone. “Jake, can you come help me carry it?”

“Nope,” Jake said, “I’m building the fire.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Mom?”

“I’ll come with you, Flo,” Doris told her. “Let your poor mother sit down for a moment.” Doris pushed me down into a chair. “Gary, you can pour the wine.”

Outside the October night was chilly, but in our dining room, with the leaping fire, everything was cozy.

“Flo is right,” Doris said as she handed out plates and paper napkins. “The place needs some color. You should definitely paint it.”

“Put some of those paintings up too,” Gary suggested, waving his wineglass in the direction of the stack behind the door.

The wine and warmth relaxed me. I felt myself melting back into my chair. Even with the walls bare, without a rug on the floor or any ornaments, I liked this room. I liked those fogged-up porthole windows, and the way the oak furniture anchored the room. And I loved the little hatch to the kitchen, which was currently open so we could talk to Flo and Colleen as they whipped the cream for the dessert.

“It’s nice to hear laughter in here again.” Elton sighed.

“It is,” Jake agreed, swirling the wine in his glass, eyes downcast.

I would have given anything to know their thoughts. Jake’s particularly. Again, as though reading my mind, he looked up and met my gaze. I felt the shock of it through to my toes and fingertips.

“Ta-da!” Flo exclaimed, as she brought in the apple pie. “Elton’s apples; Gary’s crust; my filling,” she said with pride. Gary had directed her, but she’d done every step of the filling herself. “And Colleen’s whipped cream. It’s a team effort!”

“Don’t forget the butter and flour and cream were from my store,” Doris chipped in.

“And what about me?” Jake complained. “Don’t I get to be part of the team?”