As the Crow Flies, page 20
“She has tickets for a performance at Jacob’s Pillow. I’m sure Sam’s going with her.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Isabel shrugged. “It sounded like they had a date. I can tell my aunt likes Sam.”
“Did you ask her?”
“No. I would never do that.”
Isabel had such rigid boundaries. “So what makes you think she’s crushing on Sam?”
“She’s just been acting strange…different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know.” Isabel shrugged again. “She’s been reading Sam’s books a lot. The other day she went clothes shopping with a friend. And then she went for a manicure and pedicure, something she hasn’t done in a long time. She’s been walking a lot, too. She often takes Blue for a stroll down the road before dinner, but this past week she’s been doing a mile or more, and Blue has been coming back exhausted.”
Liz acted nonchalant, but inside she was screaming with excitement. Maybe Sam was about to get lucky after all. New clothes? An increased interest in one’s own appearance? Yep, definitely a telltale sign of a budding romance.
The long trip seemed to go faster than it usually did. After they’d crossed the bridge into Maine and reached Portland, Liz pulled into the first gas station she saw, but her back tire missed the entrance and jumped the curb with a bang that startled everyone in the van. “Whoa! Sorry, girls.”
Isabel flinched, then looked over at Liz and in a very calm voice said, “Would you like for me to retrieve your muffler while you’re pumping gas, or would you rather leave it here and pick it up on the way home?”
“Ha! You’re very funny, you know that?” Laughing, she popped open the gas tank and got out. “I’ll be right back.”
Smiling, Liz leaned against the van as she pumped gas. They were here. Another forty-five miles inland and they’d be in South Paris. Maybe their next trip would be to Salem in the fall, or perhaps Provincetown for Women’s Week, if Liz got her way. Amazing. For the first time in her life she found herself making plans with a woman—wanting to make plans—and imagining a ton of things she’d like to do with Isabel.
* * *
Craig Bowes stood outside watering flowers, a big black Lab lying beside him in the grass when they pulled in. He was handsome, in his early fifties, the male version of Liz. In tight jeans and a form-fitting shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he looked trim and muscular—the kind of guy who stays in shape working for a living. His thick, wavy hair was rusty red, like his daughter’s, and it was easy to imagine that in his youth, he’d lived for adventure, especially if it came in the form of pretty women and fast cars. He dropped the hose and walked toward them.
“Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, sweetheart!” he called, the black dog rushing ahead of him.
“Zoe!” Liz grabbed the dog’s snout and planted a kiss smack on her lips. “How’s my sister from another mister, huh? I’ve missed you so much!”
“And I get sloppy seconds, huh?” Craig said. “You’re supposed to kiss your father before you kiss the dog!” He gave her a kiss and a big squeeze, then turned to Isabel. “Is this the young lady who likes muscle cars?” He shook her hand and kissed her cheek just as his wife’s voice called out.
“Are they here already?” In denim shorts and a black tank top, Liz’s mother, tanned, with dark hair in a ponytail, came out of the restored farmhouse. Blue eyes aside, her coloring was such that people would have thought she was Isabel’s mother, not Liz’s. “Where’s that Scottie?” she said as soon as she’d kissed Liz and given both of Isabel’s hands an affectionate squeeze.
“Dad, do you think Zoe will be all right if I let the dogs out?” Liz asked.
“You know she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. If they don’t like her I’ll lock her up.”
But the dogs were happy to get out. Nose-to-nose, nose-to-butt, they made their introductions, and then Zoe’s attention shifted back to Liz and Isabel.
When Gina saw Blue, she put her hands together and pressed them to her lips. “Oh my God, Craig. Look at the Scottie! I’ve heard all about you, Blue. You, too, Loosey Goosey!”
Blue was pleasant and wagged her tail, which made Liz wonder why Samantha turned the dog off so much.
“Aww…she’s beautiful,” Craig said as Isabel ducked into the van and came out with two bottles. She handed them to Gina. “From a winery in the Berkshires.”
“White wine? You must have read my mind, Isabel. We’re having fish, and I was sure I had a bottle of white in the house. I must have seen it at the cabin, though, and I didn’t have time to run to the liquor store.
“Honey?” she said to Liz’s dad. “Would you take these so I can help Isabel with the dogs?” Gina handed over the wine and grabbed their leashes, talking baby talk while letting them relieve themselves, then led them in the house.
The decor in the old farmhouse had a contemporary flair but kept in style with the architecture. “I love your home,” Isabel said, glancing around at low-beam ceilings and a cast-iron stove. Craig had built a lighted showcase for Gina’s collection of vintage glass. It covered almost an entire wall, and Isabel was immediately drawn to it.
“Why, thank you. It helps having an interior designer in the family.” Gina took her daughter’s face in one hand and squeezed it before going in the kitchen and coming back with fresh-squeezed lemonade for Craig and Isabel. “Have a look around while Liz helps me for a minute,” she said to Isabel and took Liz by the hand.
When they were in the kitchen and out of earshot, Gina whispered to her. “She’s very pretty. I like her. She’s like us.”
“Like us?”
“You know, she likes Scotties and she’s also a collector.”
Liz smiled. “Yeah. I’d like to collect her.”
“I assumed you were dating.”
“Not yet. I’d like to take it in that direction, but we’re friends for now,” Liz said and went on to give her mother the short version of how she and Sam had just recently met Isabel and Gwen.
Her mother opened the oven and put the haddock in to broil. “You’ve known her less than two weeks and brought her to meet your parents? That’s a first.” She searched her face with a knowing smile. “I think you’ve already fallen for her. Something’s different about you, Liz. You seem…settled, more centered.”
That meant she was generally uncentered and unsettled. This was the part where a conversation with her mother could easily turn into a quiet argument. Settled and centered implied that Liz didn’t seem her usual all-over-the-place self, that her attention was focused. Liz let it go, because Isabel did make her feel settled. She hadn’t been to a bar in over a week, hadn’t felt the usual itch to go out dancing or meet new women over drinks after work. She hadn’t even answered texts from the friends with benefits she occasionally bedded, like Skyler or Taylor. Somehow, she preferred Isabel’s company, even if it didn’t involve sex.
Liz looked at the six ears of corn on the counter. “Want me to husk these?”
“No. I’ve learned a better way to cook corn. It’s amazing. Leave the husk. Just cut an inch off the bottoms. Four minutes in the microwave and the husk and silk will slip right off.”
“Yeah?” Liz took a knife and did as her mother said.
“And let’s get all the dogs fed before we sit down to…will you listen to them talking in there? I can tell your father likes her because he hasn’t shut up. I hope he doesn’t spoil your surprise.”
They stopped to eavesdrop for a minute, and Liz peeked through the kitchen doorway to watch Isabel and Craig talking about vintage muscle cars. Liz had never seen Isabel so animated. But just as Liz ducked back into the kitchen she heard a noise, and her father shouted, “Gina, quick! We got a spill!”
Gina rolled her eyes. “That’s code for Zoe’s tail knocked over a glass.” She grabbed a roll of paper towels and rushed inside.
There was Zoe, sandwiched between Isabel’s legs and the coffee table.
“I’m so sorry,” Isabel said, reaching over the dog’s back to pick up the glass, a magazine, and a small vase of wildflowers so Craig could sop up the mess.
“Don’t you dare apologize for this dog,” he said, pretending to be angry. “We’ve lost count of the glasses and beer bottles that tail has knocked over.”
“She can’t help it,” Liz said. She took the empty glass into the kitchen and came back with a fresh one for Isabel and a sponge for her mother.
Gina and Craig wiped and dried the table while Zoe watched, wagging her tail like it had all been a big joke, until Craig straddled the dog and grabbed her tail. “You see this tail, Isabel? Guess how long?”
“Geez. I don’t know.” She laughed. “Over a foot, I’d say.”
“Eighteen inches.” He wagged it in his hand. “As thick and strong as a bat.” He let go of it and pointed a finger in her face. “One more time, and chop-chop,” he warned the dog. “I’m gonna make a nice soup with this tail.”
Liz laughed. “Faux oxtail soup?”
“Oh, stop.” Gina waved a hand at her husband. “He’s always threatening to cook her tail. He doesn’t even have it in him to get mad at that dopey dog.”
When they were ready to sit, Craig opened the bottles of white wine Gina had chilled and set them on the farm table that could comfortably seat ten people. Isabel admired the barn-wood candelabra with Edison bulbs hanging down and complimented the cook once they’d started eating.
“So,” Gina said, “Liz tells us your family is in the paper business?”
“Yes. Laraway Paper.”
“Laraway…” She stopped eating, making a sudden connection. “Laraway! Oh my God, that’s the copier paper I buy at the office supply store. We’ve got it right here in the house. No wonder your name sounded familiar when Liz told me.”
“Wow. It’s sort of like having a celebrity here, huh?” Craig smiled at Isabel. “I don’t know how much you know about Maine, but the state has a logging history that goes back over two hundred years,” he said. “It’s one of the most forested states in the country right now.”
Isabel nodded. “You’ve got about twelve million acres of softwoods up north and most of your hardwoods down here in the southern parts of the state. Over ninety percent is privately owned.”
“You know more than I do. I guess you would.” Craig was clearly impressed. “During the seventeen and eighteen hundreds most of those forests in central and southern Maine were cleared for farms, but eventually farming took a dip.”
“And when farming declined your forests grew back,” Isabel said. “Maine actually has more forests now than it did a hundred years ago. The state probably harvests over fifty thousand acres a year, but they no longer harvest trees faster than they can grow. No clear-cutting, like they used to do.”
“That’s what sustainability is all about, right?” Gina asked.
“It is,” Isabel said. “The pulp and paper companies, along with those that make other cellulose-based products, comprise one of the largest industrial sectors in the world. And as you might imagine, the industry has the greatest impact on global forests.” She put her fork down and drank her wine. “Fortunately, silviculture is quite advanced these days. In fact, the Laraways have pioneered some very important environmental technologies.”
“Silviculture…that’s like what, forestry?” Craig asked.
“More or less. It’s basically the practice of achieving the most sustainable timber production while protecting water and wildlife,” Isabel stressed. “Today we can grow more timber per acre than ever before in history, and at the same time do more than ever to improve the quality of habitats for fish and wildlife. Of course, wherever there’s money to be made, you’re going to find greedy and unscrupulous businessmen who’ll exploit any resource to make a dollar. We’re very careful about buying from private land owners.”
Gina sat with an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, obviously captivated by everything Isabel had to say. “How many reams of paper can you get from a tree?” she asked.
Isabel smiled. “It all depends. A forty-foot tree about six inches thick might produce sixteen reams on average.”
“Yeah?” Craig said, as captivated as his wife. “From what kind of trees, pines?”
“Used to be pines, all softwoods, but with so many advances in pulp-processing technologies we can use just about any kind of wood these days.”
“This is so fascinating,” Gina said as she took the second bottle of wine and reached to fill everyone’s glasses.
Liz put her hand over the top of hers. “None for me, Mom. I have to drive, and I want to get to the cabin before dark. I’m exhausted.”
Craig winked at Liz and she nodded. “Speaking of driving,” he said, “what plans do you ladies have for tomorrow?”
“I have a list. Three barn sales, two estate sales, and the two usual antique flea markets. I’m looking for clients, for the shop, and for the cottage I’m helping Isabel decorate. Whatever we don’t get to tomorrow, we’ll hit on Sunday.”
“Gee, that’s too bad. I was hoping Isabel might want to drive a stock car on the track.”
Isabel, who had her glass to her lips, almost choked on her wine. She coughed and cleared her throat, staring between Craig and Liz like an expectant, wide-eyed kid.
“Aww…Dad, that’s so nice of you, but we have our hearts set on shopping.” She turned to Isabel. “Don’t we?”
Isabel looked between them, decorum seeming to suppress her urge to blurt out her true desire.
Gina gave her daughter and husband a glance of reproach as she hand-fed the remaining piece of fish to the three dogs. “Enough, both of you. Stop teasing her.”
Liz looked at Isabel across the table and grinned. “My dad knows the owners of a speedway not far from here. He’s arranged for you to drive a stock car tomorrow,” she announced, then coyly added, “if you want to.”
Isabel couldn’t even speak but nodded vigorously.
“Good. Then it’s all set,” said Craig with a smile as mischievous as Liz’s. “How about I pick Isabel up at the cabin, say about eleven. That’ll give you two time to wake up, relax, and have breakfast.”
“We stocked the fridge for you yesterday,” Gina said. “You’ve got bacon and eggs, bread, butter, milk, and a pound of coffee. There’s plenty to drink, and whatever else you need you’ll find in the pantry.”
“We’ll get over to the speedway by noon or so,” Craig went on. “You’ll need instruction first, so figure on being there for a few hours.”
“Mom, why don’t you drive to the cabin with Dad in the morning. You and I can take the van and do a run-through of half the places on my list, and the rest Isabel and I will hit on Sunday. That way we can get over to the speedway to watch Isabel.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gina said. “And before it gets dark, why don’t you take Isabel out back and pick some blueberries for pancakes this weekend? They’re a week early this year for some reason. Have you ever had wild Maine blueberries, Isabel?”
“I don’t think so.”
“They’re tiny, but sweet as sugar.”
And they were. Liz pushed the first one she picked between Isabel’s lips, and they ate a bunch more as they moved through the half-acre blueberry patch with the dogs. “Thank you for having your father do this for me,” Isabel said. “I can’t believe it. I’m so excited I don’t know what to say.”
“Excited? Oh, my God.” Liz laughed. “Do you know what it was like holding it in on the ride up here? It took everything in me not to tell you.”
They began losing light as they each filled a small basket of berries, and by the time they left and arrived in the tiny village of North Waterford it was dark. Liz turned on to a back road and headed west for another two miles. “The nice thing about Kezar Ponds,” she said, “is that they’re shaped sort of like an open hand, your fingers being land, with the water of the great pond running between them.” She slowed down and turned into the long, narrow driveway of the cabin, the headlights shining on a painted sign nailed to a tree. It was white with a green frog and read: have you been invited? The floodlights clicked on, and a small log cabin came into view.
“Do the dogs like the water?”
“Blue could spend hours wading through lily pads looking for fish and frogs, but Loosey loves to swim.”
“Then let’s keep them leashed until morning, because the water is right behind the house, and it’s really dark back there.”
Isabel took care of the dogs while Liz got their bags out and unlocked a door that led into a small open kitchen. She flipped the light switches and then walked around the counter to turn on the lamps in the living room.
“My grandfather built this cabin in the fifties,” Liz said. “It’s not much, and it’s only seasonal. No heat, except for this woodstove.”
Liz followed Isabel’s eyes as she took in the shabby-chic décor that gave the room a wonderfully cozy and bohemian feel. The vibrant colors of a braided rug added color to the dark split-log walls, and a paisley couch with red, yellow, and blue pillows was big enough for several people to sink into.
“It’s perfect. And charming. Like something out of a storybook,” Isabel mused.
Liz opened the sliding doors on the back wall. “Come see the porch,” she said, and patted her thigh for the dogs to follow. They looked at Isabel for reassurance, then at each other as if to say, this is so much fun, isn’t it? Finally, they followed Liz out to the screened porch, their noses lifting to the rich scents drifting in off the water. A table with benches sat at one end, two papasan chairs and lamps for reading at the other.
Liz turned on a yellow porch light and unlatched the wood-framed screen door that faced the water. Pushing the dogs away, Isabel stepped outside with her. The moon played on the water’s rippled surface, its light just enough to outline two lounge chairs at the end of the dock and two kayaks resting on the sand of a small beach. Trees grew tall on either side of the cabin, casting a wall of darkness.
