Chancey Family Lies (Chancey Books Book 2) by Kay Dew Shostak

Author:Kay Dew Shostak [Shostak, Kay Dew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Fiction, Georgia, Family, B&B, Humorous, Southern Fiction, Family Life, Holidays, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: August South Publishing
Published: 2015-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

Lemons. First thing that comes to mind as we cross the threshold of the depot. Lemons, and soap, and polishing oil. In front of me Bryan, Jackson, and the two grandfathers peel off to the right where the train display is. Sunlight streams in through the sparkling windows that line the top of the walls. Last time I was in here for the October’s Women’s Historical Society meeting was a month ago and the change is remarkable. Dust no longer floats in the air and cobwebs no longer drape from window sill to display case and back again. The walls sport fresh cream paint and the dark woodwork gleams. Lights spotlight the exhibits, and the old wood floor is clean and enhanced with old braided rugs which are old and faded, but clean.

“Peter, you’ve done a lot of work.” My feet are still rooted in place and I’m sure my apparent astonishment causes my friend’s smile to widen.

“Glad you like it.” Peter walks toward me and holds out a hand.

I place my hand in his, and he bows with a wave of his other arm to the room behind him, “Welcome to the Chancey Depot Museum.” He tucks my hand into his arm and we walk to the middle of the room.

“What you’ve done is amazing. You did all the cleaning and painting? That took a lot of time.”

“You forget where I live. Being here is a treat.” He leans toward me, and his ponytail falls across his shoulder. His deep brown beard, makes his gray eyes darker and a smile precedes his rich laugh. “Mother hates this place. She says it has swallowed her husband and son. Honestly, I think it eats at her because she doesn’t have a bit of say so how things are done here. Dad, of course, loves it. Gives us both a place to hide.”

“You can say that again.” FM comes up on my other side. “Especially now she’s got that Christmas Ball coming up she’s always harping on.” FM hangs his thumbs in the waist of his work pants and expands his chest. “Peter did a right good job, didn’t he?”

“He did a marvelous job.” I turn to smile at Peter and find his face closer than before. I jump a little and Peter apologizes, drops my arm, and steps back. A prickly heat races down my back, and I spin around to FM. “Show me what you’re working on.”

“Over here.” FM leads me to a stack of boxes, all full of old magazines. “Flora and Fauna, you know them, right?”

I nod my head.

“Well, them girls donated about forty-five years of Good Housekeeping magazines—every copy from 1915 to 1960,” FM says. “Their mother started her subscription when she got married and moved into the house. They won’t donate the ones from 1960 to now because, and I quote, ‘They might need to look up something.’ Peter wants one for every year put out on this stand and then the rest will go on this book case for folks to look at.

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