Almost Amish (10 page)

“Oh, there were. I’ve been cleaning it all up. I don’t want to even open up the box until I get this place under control.”

“Got ya. Makes sense to me,” Gary said. “It shouldn’t be that hard to to make a more satisfactory set up. We can replace some of these boards”—he went over and knelt beside a section of wall with a couple of knotholes—“put some caulk around the window frames. A little elbow grease and it wil be almost airtight. How soon you need this thing set up?”

“The sooner the better. I’m following a couple of comets—Elenin, in particular, is moving away from the earth, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Comets, huh? Sounds interesting.” Gary nodded his head in true appreciation. “After we get this thing up and going, mind if I come and check it out sometime?”

Brian’s face lit up. “I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, it would be great to have a man out here who actually appreciates these things. I’m living with a house full of girls who just don’t get it.”

Gary laughed and looked toward Susan. His eyes were so pale blue they almost glowed in this light. He tipped his baseball cap at her. “I’m sure there was no offense intended.”

“None taken.” Something about him was so . . . likable. But it didn’t matter. He was a man, a handsome one at that, and she’d learned her lesson about trusting anyone—especially someone whose good looks could get him past where his integrity left off. “Will this project take long?”

“Two days, I’d bet. Is that all right?”

Not as soon as Susan hoped, but for right now, there were more pressing issues. “I suppose. Well, I really need to get back up to the house and help Julie practice dough rolling.”

Brian waved his hand dismissively. “That might be a losing cause, Aunt Susan. Mom has a lot of good qualities, but cooking is not really one of them.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that about your mother.” Gary sounded truly offended.

Brian shook his head. “Oh, she’s the first to admit it. She tries hard, really she does, but I cannot envision something that has been true for the last forty-something years changing in forty-eight hours. It’s just not logical.”

“Well, I might not make her the best cook in the world, but assuming our new oven gets delivered soon, I can make her the best shoo-fly pie cook in the world—or at least a decent enough one to get us past the first week of filming without a major disaster on our hands.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” Brian looked at Gary then. “Do you think we could get started working out here tonight?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“I’ll see the two of you later.” Sufficiently satisfied that things here were under control, Susan turned and started back toward the house.

“Looking forward to it.”

Something about Gary’s words, maybe the low rumble of his voice, sent a little trill of excitement shooting through Susan.

Ridiculous.

By the time she hiked back up to the house, she’d banned all silly notions from her mind and was ready to get back to the task at hand. She walked through the screened porch and into the kitchen. “I’m ba-ack.” The screen door slapped shut behind her, but there was no other reply. “Julie?”

She looked around the kitchen. The dish drainer held the pie tin, washed and
empty
, the flour and butter had been put away, although there were still sprinkles of flour dotting the countertops and even a bit on the floor. “Julie?” She walked into the living room and found it empty, as well. Where was everyone?

Whitney’s high-pitched laughter broke the silence. It sounded like she might be out in the side yard, so Susan went that way. She opened the door and saw Julie, Whitney, and Angie out by the clothesline. White lace curtains were stretched to cover two of the three rows of line, wooden clothespins holding them in place every few feet. “Hi, Aunt Susan.” Whitney was the first to see her, and she came bounding over. “What do you think of our new dryer? It’s the latest technological advance, guaranteed to dry clothes—and curtains—in the longest possible amount of time, while guaranteeing wrinkles on each and every item or your money back.”

“Whitney, if you don’t get a job in infomercials someday, you have definitely missed your calling. Don’t you think so, Susan?” Julie’s face was flushed with laughter. “I can’t remember ever having this much fun doing laundry.”

“How’s it going down at the shed?” Angie asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “Did you get that guy all dialed in about what Brian needs?”

“I’ll bet Brian tried to convince him to set up some vacuum-sealed, airtight, temperature-controlled command center.” Julie hadn’t stopped smiling since this conversation started. “What do you think of Gary?”

“I don’t think of Gary.”

The entire yard suddenly went quiet. Julie finished pinning up the length of curtain, then walked toward Susan. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you know, is he going to be helpful?”

Susan shrugged. “How should I know? I hardly talked to him, but he seems sufficient for the job. Speaking of which, why aren’t you working on the pie?”

“Mom, we asked her to help us, okay? Can’t you relax for just one minute?” Angie’s former smile had melted into the tight-lipped frown that had become all too common as her teenaged years progressed.

“Susan, I can more or less make a circular crust now. I’ve looked over several recipes for shoo-fly pie, but there’s not much I can do about that without the actual recipe I’m going to use and an oven. Besides, I wanted to spend some time out here with the girls.”

“Sometimes you just have to make sacrifices.” Susan knew her voice came out sharp, but she didn’t care. This was important.

Julie’s smile faded, and she looked as though she might cry. She stood there and looked toward Susan, then back toward the girls, then back toward Susan. “And sometimes there are other things more important. Now, loosen up those strings of perfection for a minute and come on over here and help us do the next load of curtains in our fancy washing machine.”

It took every bit of Susan’s willpower not to unload everything right now. To tell them all about her conversation with Kendra, to let them know how close they still were to losing it all. No, that was her burden to bear and she wouldn’t dump it on them, but she did say, “We don’t have time for—”

“Yes”—Julie’s voice was as firm as Susan had ever heard it—“we do.
This
is what this whole experiment is all about. It’s not about pies, or even clean curtains. It’s about slowing down enough to really spend time with the family.”

Whitney gasped aloud. “Wow, Mom! Who knew you had all that in you?”

Julie’s eyes grew wide, as if she was as surprised as everyone else that she’d actually spoken with such force. Her cheeks turned a bit pink; then she grinned and reached up to give a mock salute. “Troops dismissed.”

“Aunt Julie, I’d forgotten how funny you are.” Angie put her arm around Julie’s waist and Julie returned the hug.

Great. No one was doing what they needed to be doing, and now even her own daughter had jumped ship.

“Wow, Mom! Who knew you had all that in you?”

“Aunt Julie, I’d forgotten how funny you are.”

Julie woke slowly and couldn’t help but smile when she looked around her sparsely furnished room. This place was the dream she’d never even known could exist. No ringing phones. No emails asking for more volunteers. No committees. No pressure to keep up with the other moms. The reality here wasn’t easy: she’d spent the last two days hand-washing and ironing a farmhouse full of curtains. But the time had been entirely invested in her family. She’d actually had fun with the girls.

She sat up in the bed, listening to the springs screech beneath her, and wrapped her arms around her knees. There were birds singing just outside the window, and the sun was already painting a rectangle across the floor in spite of the fact it was still early. She slid off the bed, then tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen.

On the counter sat an old-fashioned percolator, and the only thing that could make this morning better would be a fresh cup of coffee. She prepped it with coffee and water, and set it on the little hot plate Kendra had provided for necessities. Within minutes it burbled to life and the smell of coffee filled the air. When it finished she poured herself a cup and took a first sip.
Not bad.
It definitely wasn’t as good as the freshly ground brew she made at home, but it would more than do.

Susan walked into the room, already dressed in her assigned wardrobe—a long khaki skirt and a short-sleeved chambray shirt. It might have been a bit dated, but Susan managed to make it look crisp and classic. “I thought I heard you in here.”

“I think I’ve finally got this coffeepot figured out. You want a cup?”

Susan went to the cupboard and pulled out a white stone mug. “Maybe just half a cup for me. I’m so keyed up over the challenge today I don’t think it’s a good idea to put much caffeine on top of that.”

“What are
you
nervous about? I’m the one who has to do the cooking.” Julie laughed as she asked the question.

Susan kept her back squarely turned, making Julie think she was avoiding the question. And she was. Her continued silence said as much.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried I’ll mess it up?” Just like that, Julie’s dream morning fizzled, right back into the stress and failure she’d left behind.

Susan shrugged and kept her back turned. “This is so important to me.”

“I am going to do my best, Susan; you know I am.”

“Are you?” Susan turned, her face perfectly serious. “I would think that if you truly wanted to do your best, you would have actually made a pie yesterday.”

“I didn’t have an oven, remember? I could have assembled the ingredients and poured them into a crust, I suppose. And it wasn’t like I was loafing around. You’re the one who wanted all the curtains washed and pressed for the picture, remember?”

“Yes, I do remember. But I also remember that before I left to go shoot a segment downtown, I specifically asked you to practice your pie making, and you didn’t. You made a point of avoiding it, in fact.”

Had she been wrong yesterday? Julie didn’t think so, at least she hadn’t at the time. Now she felt that all-too-familiar uncertainty. “Susan, I am sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.”

Susan poured herself coffee. “Well, you do now.” She took a sip, made a face, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh. But we know everything that happens is going to reflect on me. And you know how much I need to succeed in this.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time figuring out the pie stuff.” Julie said the words, but she wasn’t sure she believed them.

Three hours later Julie sat in the makeup chair, getting powder dusted all across her face. It tickled her nose, and her eyes watered from the effort of not sneezing.

“The idea is to make it look like you’re not really wearing makeup, but to make you look better in the process.” The makeup artist had spiky white-blond hair with jagged dark roots, dark eyeliner that accentuated huge blue eyes, and a small nose ring. “There, I think this ought to work just right. What do you think, Kendra?”

Kendra came around the chair for a closer look. She bent over to inspect Susan’s face first, gave a quick nod, and moved over to Julie. She stared for what seemed forever and frowned. “We could really use a bit more concealer on the uh . . . ” She made a semicircular motion under her eyes. “We want her to look natural, but I don’t want her to look like an insomniac.”

A glance in the mirror only confirmed what Kendra had said, what Julie already knew. She looked awful.

There were loud banging sounds coming from just outside the shack. Since the delivery truck had arrived an hour or so ago, Julie assumed they were making the final setup to the oven. Her stomach tightened, and she glanced toward Susan, who was looking nervously toward the door. Julie would do this well. She had to, for Susan’s sake. And for her own.

“Here we go.” The makeup girl, whose name Julie had not been told, leaned forward and applied something beneath Julie’s eyes. “Yes, that is better, I think.”

Kendra nodded. “Okay, ladies, it’s time for your big debut. Let’s get moving.”

Julie’s stomach began to flop as she stood up. It wasn’t until this moment that she’d fully come to terms with the fact she was about to be on national television, on a show watched by millions of women, most of whom knew their way around a kitchen. More than Lisa Lee or Kendra, they’d be the harshest judge of her success or failure. Well, she’d just have to show them she could do this.

Kendra led them through the back screened porch. “Along with the new stove, you’ll see that we’ve added some additional lighting in the kitchen. It’s better for the cameras.” Kendra held open the door. “What do you ladies think about your new cooktop?”

A huge, gleaming piece of . . . black metal . . . more than filled the space where the old gas range had been. There were only two openings on the stove top, and beneath that, what looked like two separate oven doors. Kendra walked over to the door on the left and opened it. “This is where you put the wood.” Then she opened the door on the right. “This is your oven. Any questions?”