woman forever. At some point, they had to put their hostility behind them. But was now the right time or the worst time to try? Reluctantly, Meredith nodded. “As long as we don’t sit in the cell.”
* * * *
The kitchen door squealed as Meredith pushed it open, grocery sacks and the yowling cat carrier bumping against her legs. Her purse slipped off her shoulder, yanking so hard she almost dropped the poor cat. She eased both to the floor before slinging the grocery sacks onto the counter. A puff of dust whispered into the air, making her cough.
Her grandmother had loved to cook, and thus the kitchen was the one room in the house allowed to vary in content and design from an antebellum-era kitchen. In fact, to reduce the likelihood of fire, kitchens once stood apart from the main house. The renovated room served as an altar to culinary delights. Paneled doors hid the appliances, blending them into the surrounding walls, so finding the dishwasher and refrigerator became a game of hide-and-seek. Ceramic tiles graced the floor, complementing the tiled table set in front of the rear window.
She opened the fridge and sniffed the cold air inside. Passable, but she’d need to ask Meg to clean it soon. She placed her quart of milk, half-dozen eggs, and containers of yogurt inside in front of several bottles of wine shoved to the back.
“ Meooww .” The carrier wobbled on the tiled floor as the yowl echoed in the room.
“Okay, okay. Hold on.” No dangers lurked in the corners and shadows as far as she could tell, so she’d let her feline loose. “Just don’t go getting lost, deal?”
“ Meooww …”
Laughing at her vocal companion, Meredith slid the latches open and lifted the carrier’s lid. Grizabella’s white, black, and orange head popped up and swiveled like a periscope surveying the unfamiliar horizon. She leaped out of the confines of the plastic box in one fluid arc. Griz picked her way across the floor, lifting and placing each paw, nose and tail both twitching at the apparent onslaught of new scents and sights.
“Behave yourself.” Chuckling, Meredith located a place to hold her remaining groceries. She reached for the handle on the pantry door, only to have the tarnished brass and glass knob come off in her hand. Sighing, she pulled her Swiss army knife from her pocket and flipped up the appropriate tool to turn the inner mechanism. Finally popping open the pantry door, she flinched at the odor accompanying the spiderwebs stretched across the interior. This place needed more than a bit of work.
Wonder if Grandma kept things in the same places all this time? She hurried to the back staircase, the one once used by the servants of the house and connected the kitchen to the bedrooms above. Similar to the front stairs, a small door led to a closet made from the space underneath the risers. Unlike the front hall closet, this one’s door sat firmly shut. Meredith gingerly tested the doorknob before giving it a firm twist to pull it open. A small cloud of dust swirled around her feet, lightly coating her shoes. She’d have to clean the cleaning supplies next.
Taking a deep breath, she ventured inside. The old straw broom Grandma had always preferred over the “newfangled” ones with plastic bristles rested against the back wall. A dust mop, rag mop, bucket, and round-headed wall brush Meg needed to use on the cobwebs everywhere flanked the yellow-bristled tool. Grabbing the broom handle, Meredith strode back to the pantry and swiped the webs from the shelves. Satisfied, she replaced the broom in its home. A roll of paper towels sat on a faux marble spindle on the kitchen counter. She wet one to wipe down the shelves. Before long, her groceries sat neatly situated in the pantry.
She glanced at her watch. Putting away her groceries only took an hour. If every task took that long, she’d be here until Independence Day, or worse, Christmas. Time for some preliminary assessments, make a few lists, and
* * * *
The kitchen door squealed as Meredith pushed it open, grocery sacks and the yowling cat carrier bumping against her legs. Her purse slipped off her shoulder, yanking so hard she almost dropped the poor cat. She eased both to the floor before slinging the grocery sacks onto the counter. A puff of dust whispered into the air, making her cough.
Her grandmother had loved to cook, and thus the kitchen was the one room in the house allowed to vary in content and design from an antebellum-era kitchen. In fact, to reduce the likelihood of fire, kitchens once stood apart from the main house. The renovated room served as an altar to culinary delights. Paneled doors hid the appliances, blending them into the surrounding walls, so finding the dishwasher and refrigerator became a game of hide-and-seek. Ceramic tiles graced the floor, complementing the tiled table set in front of the rear window.
She opened the fridge and sniffed the cold air inside. Passable, but she’d need to ask Meg to clean it soon. She placed her quart of milk, half-dozen eggs, and containers of yogurt inside in front of several bottles of wine shoved to the back.
“ Meooww .” The carrier wobbled on the tiled floor as the yowl echoed in the room.
“Okay, okay. Hold on.” No dangers lurked in the corners and shadows as far as she could tell, so she’d let her feline loose. “Just don’t go getting lost, deal?”
“ Meooww …”
Laughing at her vocal companion, Meredith slid the latches open and lifted the carrier’s lid. Grizabella’s white, black, and orange head popped up and swiveled like a periscope surveying the unfamiliar horizon. She leaped out of the confines of the plastic box in one fluid arc. Griz picked her way across the floor, lifting and placing each paw, nose and tail both twitching at the apparent onslaught of new scents and sights.
“Behave yourself.” Chuckling, Meredith located a place to hold her remaining groceries. She reached for the handle on the pantry door, only to have the tarnished brass and glass knob come off in her hand. Sighing, she pulled her Swiss army knife from her pocket and flipped up the appropriate tool to turn the inner mechanism. Finally popping open the pantry door, she flinched at the odor accompanying the spiderwebs stretched across the interior. This place needed more than a bit of work.
Wonder if Grandma kept things in the same places all this time? She hurried to the back staircase, the one once used by the servants of the house and connected the kitchen to the bedrooms above. Similar to the front stairs, a small door led to a closet made from the space underneath the risers. Unlike the front hall closet, this one’s door sat firmly shut. Meredith gingerly tested the doorknob before giving it a firm twist to pull it open. A small cloud of dust swirled around her feet, lightly coating her shoes. She’d have to clean the cleaning supplies next.
Taking a deep breath, she ventured inside. The old straw broom Grandma had always preferred over the “newfangled” ones with plastic bristles rested against the back wall. A dust mop, rag mop, bucket, and round-headed wall brush Meg needed to use on the cobwebs everywhere flanked the yellow-bristled tool. Grabbing the broom handle, Meredith strode back to the pantry and swiped the webs from the shelves. Satisfied, she replaced the broom in its home. A roll of paper towels sat on a faux marble spindle on the kitchen counter. She wet one to wipe down the shelves. Before long, her groceries sat neatly situated in the pantry.
She glanced at her watch. Putting away her groceries only took an hour. If every task took that long, she’d be here until Independence Day, or worse, Christmas. Time for some preliminary assessments, make a few lists, and
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