Sleepers and Ties by Gail Kirkpatrick

Author:Gail Kirkpatrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Now or Never Publishing
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

14. SIDING

‘We’re here,’ I announce, entering the kitchen. Massy’s face flushes from neck to Lauren Hutton smile; the last thing she’s expecting is a man accompanying me. I have delivered the handsome British birder to her door.

A bottle of acetaminophen sits in front of her on the kitchen table.

‘I think I’ve reached my quota for today.’ She pushes them away towards the sill. Her foot is elevated on a chair, ice draped around her ankle. I introduce Dr. George Merell, and between us Massy and I quickly draw the line of our friendship back to childhood, leaving out the gaps. George takes Massy’s hand to introduce himself.

‘I hope you don’t mind. Your son extended an invitation.’ Massy’s eyes flicker. Definitely not the painkillers.

‘Quite the storm. I was worried about you.’

‘I haven’t seen anything like it in years,’ I say.

‘There’s a shower just at the bottom of the stairs, if you’d like to freshen up.’ Massy nods towards the bathroom. ‘Or the tub through there, if you prefer.’

George turns to me. ‘Would you like to go first?’

‘Thank you, you go ahead.’ My hand is on the refrigerator freezer. ‘I’ll make the G&Ts. Massy always has the makings at the ready. Am I right?’

She nods approvingly. ‘And always an extra Bombay in the basement freezer.’ She calls to George, ‘Fresh towels in the cupboard, just outside the door.’

When we hear the shower running, I crouch down beside her and our whispered words collide in the space between us.

‘Where did you find him?’

‘He is lovely.’

‘What’s going on? How? Have you?’

‘What? Course not. The storm waylaid us. I was settling Shirley’s ashes at Plover Lake, when he came down the shore. I stupidly locked my keys in the trunk. Who knew he’d have a tent?’

‘You were alone with him in a tent.’

‘Well, but—’

‘Alone. Just the two of you in a tent? How do I look?’

‘Fine.’ I pull the gin from the freezer compartment and stick three glasses in to chill. There are lemons in the crisper, and I twist the peel.

‘What about your ankle? Are you alright?’

‘Talk about stupid. I’d planted some tomatoes and was skipping along with the dogs, when one of them stepped in front of me, and I tripped going up the stairs.’ She holds up her hands to show me the scrapes on her palms. ‘I’ve told you, warranty is up, and sometimes I forget about the maintenance on this ole vehicle.’

‘Combine.’

I lift the ice from Massy’s foot. Her ankle is bruised and swollen, but I keep a neutral face.

‘Not too bad, eh?’ she asks.

‘No. Not too.’

‘Quick, go downstairs and see if the spare room is tidy.’

‘Why?’

She makes a shooing motion with her hands. ‘So he has somewhere to put his things.’

I tiptoe down the squeaky stairs to the lower level bedroom, straighten the duvet, fluff the pillows, and open the window to let some air in. The room is as I left it a few days ago. The shower shuts off, just as I tiptoe back up.

Massy is massaging her leg.

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