She finished wiping the counter and considered the question. “I can’t think of anything. Hopefully, you’ll have everything you need.”
“We should be okay. Don’t worry about making any kind of dinner. If I’m hungry when I get home, I’ll make do with leftovers, but most likely all I’ll want is a shower.”
“Have fun. It’s very kind of you to take everyone out. Jeanie is smiling down on you, I just know it.” He’d said he wanted to talk about Jeanie more. Joyce hoped he didn’t mind the mention of her name now.
He took a breath and nodded. “I think she is, too. Thanks again for preparing everything. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.” He adjusted the food cooler and headed for the steps.
She folded the dish towel she’d been using. She was pretty much done in the house, now that she’d cleaned up. She went to the front windows, watching to make sure he got off all right.
The golf cart was just pulling down the drive.
She had more work to do at the guest house. She planned on washing the curtains in the kitchen and airing out the small second bedroom. Beryl wouldn’t mind that it was smaller. The bed had a nice mattress. Jeanie had bought the best one available so that Joyce could have company, if she wanted.
She never had. Beryl would be the first.
Joyce couldn’t wait for her sister to arrive. Just two more days. She made sure the main house was buttoned up, then went to her place. She took the curtains down and put them in the washer on delicate.
Then she got to work washing the baseboards. It hadn’t been done in a few years, an embarrassing fact for a woman who took such pride in keeping her surroundings clean. Her only excuse was that she’d been busy trying to keep Mitch alive.
Now that he seemed to have turned a corner on his grief, and thank Harper for that, Joyce felt like she could relax a bit.
The guest house wasn’t big. Probably not more than six hundred square feet, but it had everything Joyce needed. Two bedrooms, hers with a walk-in closet, which she considered more than she needed, a big bathroom, a combined pantry and laundry room, and a large open area that united the living room and kitchen into one airy space.
There was even room for a small table. It accommodated four chairs, but Joyce kept it tucked against the wall. She usually ate her dinner sitting on the couch, watching telly. Or, if it was nice, she’d sometimes eat on the balcony that overlooked the river.
She liked to watch the boats go by.
The views from the guest house and the two balconies made up for its compact size. Not that Joyce was bothered by the size.What was the sense of more space than she needed? Mitch had that big house all to himself and never used more than a few rooms. Hopefully, that would change soon.
Joyce’s stomach began to rumble as she washed the last section of baseboards. While she had the rag and bucket handy, she did the windowsills and, finally, the tracks for the sliding glass doors that went to each balcony.
She was sweating when she finished. The windows and glass doors still needed cleaning. With the salt in the air, that was a job that was never really done. She’d give herself a break, though, and eat some lunch.
She made a quick meal of cold chicken, a couple of slices of good cheddar, some pickles, and a piece of whole grain bread sliced from the loaf she’d gotten at Publix on her last shopping trip. While she ate, she made up a list of groceries she’d need to get in for Beryl’s visit.
She wanted to take Beryl to Publix while she was here. Joyce knew her sister would be impressed with the grocery store. Especially the bakery. She smiled as she ate. It would be so good to have her sister here.
Her plate went into the sink. The guest house had a dishwasher, but mostly she handwashed things. It took too long to fill the dishwasher up. Seemed more practical just to wash the few dishes she had.
She glanced at her laptop, sitting at the end of the kitchen counter. She’d been in a rush getting out of the house this morning, knowing she had the coolers to take care of, and that meant she’d hadn’t checked her email.
Was there a chance Kyle had finally responded? Or was his silence so far an indication that there wouldn’t be a response? The thought that he’d shut her out of his life made her sad. She’d done nothing to him. Nothing but look after him.
She understood Kyle being mad at his father, but her? Maybe she’d been too blunt in her letter to him.
That was a definite possibility. Young people these days got their feelings hurt with the blowing of the wind.
She tapped the touch pad to bring the machine to life, then opened up a browser window and went to her email. There was a circular from Publix, another from the dry cleaners and, miracle of miracles, a response from Kyle.
Nervousness almost kept her from clicking on it. Might just be him telling her never to contact him again.
She exhaled and opened the email, adjusting her glasses to read.
Dear Joyce,
Sorry it’s taken so long to respond. Things are busy here and it can be hard to find time. I have to keep this short. Do you think my dad really wants to reconnect with me? Do you think he’d forgive me? Even if I was in trouble? I made mistakes. I know that.
Have to run.
