Hungry Hill by Eileen Patricia Curran

Author:Eileen Patricia Curran
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kinsale Press
Published: 2021-04-07T13:12:16+00:00

The Mobilia gang arrived Thursday morning at eight to begin the destruction and eventual reconstruction of 101 Cleveland Street. I put a large carafe of coffee and a box of donuts on a card table in the front yard, since I had learned years ago that nothing says “Welcome” and “Stay and Work Long Hours” to contractors more than Dunkin’ Donuts.

Even Maggie came out to watch the amazing efficiency of the three men. We sat together on the lawn in two of the decrepit porch chairs, watching Vinnie blow through the removal of the porch floorboards and screened panels as One and Two cleared away the existing landscaping and concrete walkway. By noon, everything that needed to be removed was gone, thrown into a large dumpster that had been delivered shortly after the gang had arrived.

Vinnie made a phone call over a third cup of coffee and a fourth donut, and minutes later a load of lumber arrived. The young Italian delivering the lumber stayed to help cut and install the floorboards. Maggie and I got high on the smell of freshly cut cedar and decided that lunch was in order. We went inside, and I made egg salad sandwiches.

One and Two requested a meeting with me, so I tucked Maggie in bed with the dogs for an afternoon nap and joined them on the front lawn. We went over the landscape plan, and Two headed off to find the plantings I specified while One stayed and helped Vinnie and his young friend finish the porch floor. By the end of the day, most of the floorboards were cut and installed. We said our good-byes, and I headed in for cocktails with Maggie.

It took longer than usual to get Maggie downstairs. Her grip on the rail was unsteady, so I tucked my arm under hers. I barked a “Stay!” to the anxious dogs at the top of the stairs so they wouldn’t trip us as we negotiated our descent. Jesus, Mary and Joseph joined us repeatedly on our journey. By the time we reached the bottom step, my neck and shoulders ached from holding Maggie up.

“I apologize for being such a damn pain in the ass,” she said when we finally reached the parlor and sat down. “Maybe I’m spending too much time in bed, but those stairs are getting harder on me every day.” She had difficulty catching her breath, so I went into the kitchen and got her a glass of water.

The stunned look on her face when she realized the glass was missing her favorite ingredients sent me into a fit of laughter.

“First the damn stairs, now this!” she grumbled. “Is there no end to the indignities? Get me a goddamn bourbon, Gracie girl!” Maggie handed me the offending glass with her right hand and pointed to the kitchen with her left. I took the glass, still laughing, and disappeared.

“What happened to the pest and my big girl?” Maggie asked loudly through the closed kitchen door. I

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