arrangement of dried artichokes, an old-fashioned grocerâs scale swinging from a canted beam, and a slumping stack of place mats on the table that periodically, with no provocation, slid to the floor in a splay of raffia, chintz, and plastic.
Cress had carried many of these items to the guest roomâs closet. Sheâd also removed someoneâs attempt at macramé that sagged on the bathroom door and the faded family photographs on the one stretch of unslanted wall by the fridge, replacing the photos with five small colorful street scenes that Tillie had painted in Tehran.
Sylvia made Cress bring back the photographs, the grocerâs scale, the macramé. âCindy Hazzard made that for me,â she said.
Whoever Cindy Hazzard was.
âItâs not your house,â her mother said.
âI know, I know.â
âAnd another thing,â Sylvia said. âYour phone bill was through the roof.
âThrough the roof,â she repeated.
Cress muttered, promising to pay. The problem was, you could call New York late at night and talk for hours for what a ten-minute call to Tillie cost midday.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Cress walked by the lodge to warn Jakey that her parents were up, lest he barrel into the A-frame at midnight. âSaw âem drive in!â he said, and bustled her into his office for sex on the rug.
The next day, he waved her down. âSneak over to my house later.â His hand crept under her gingham shirt, right there on the lodgeâs porch.
After her parents went to bed, she slid open the door, and her mother called her name. âJust getting another log, Mom,â Cress said, and went back inside.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
She and her mother peeled vegetables for a stew. âSo you know, Mom, Iâve been out a couple times with Jakey.â
âJakey? Jakey up here?â
âThe very one.â
âOh Cress. Heâs way too old.â
âHeâs a lot more fun than most guys my age.â
Orange ribbons unscrolled from her motherâs carrot. âBe careful, Cress,â she said quietly.
âWhy? What makes you say that?â
âItâs just ⦠Jakey hurts people without trying.â
âLike who?â Cress asked. âWho has he hurt?â
âI donât know of any one incident,â Sylvia said. âJust stuff Iâve heard.â
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Her parents left, and she phoned the lodge. âFree at last!â
âMy kids are coming up,â Jakey said. âAny minute.â
âCome by after,â said Cress.
âThe oldest will stay,â he said. âShe always does.â
âWill I ever get to meet them?â she said.
âYou already know Kevin.â His youngest, a big, blushing kid, helped out at the lodge; introductions had been hollered across the dining room.
Cress spent that night by herself. The next night, Jakey came roaring into the A-frame after ten. âI miss you, Hartley, in spite of my damn self.â
At Family Night she said, âComing up later?â
âWorn out. Need to catch up on my sleep.â
Another night alone. Then he had to get up earlyâanother. Thus they settled into a more workaday routine, found a more reasonable pitch.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
She was now driving to Sparkville for Rick once or twice a week. For a load of lumber or pipe, she took his truck; otherwise, she took her own car. Rick paid her thirty dollars a run, and he let her fill up at Jakeyâs pump on his tab. âIs he also remunerating you for wear and tear on the Saab?â her father said. âThat road is hell on clutches, brakes, and transmissions.â
No. Rick was not paying for wear and tear, but she would not tell her father that.
âIâll check,â she said.
Rick had three jobs going. A Fresno optician and his wife, Tom and Ondine Streeter, had bought one of Reggie Thorntonâs log