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“Where did you go?”
“Just to Montpelier.”
I imagine the two of them making the drive of roughly ninety minutes, and how Aunt Charlotte probably didn’t stop talking all the way, and I have to smile.
“What did you do when you got there?”
“We went to an amazing craft gallery. I bought a lovely new scarf, and a necklace, and then we had dinner, and stayed over in a beautiful little hotel.”
“It sounds like you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did. It was nice. I’m not complaining.”
“But you’d rather she’d given you more warning?”
“That, and I’d like it if she’d stuck to the plan she made. We were supposed to stay overnight and come back yesterday afternoon, but she decided we were having such a fabulous time, and that as neither of us had anything better to do, we might as well stay on an extra day… which is why I’ve only just got home.”
I check the clock on the microwave and see it’s already five-thirty. Where on earth has the day gone? And why haven’t I achieved anything with it?
“And you think having a dog will make it easier for you?” I ask, sticking to Mom’s problems, not mine.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I just get fed up with her dictating my life to me, like I’m one of her precious damn cats.”
“You could try telling her that. It might be less trouble than having a puppy running around the house.”
“Maybe.”
“Has anything else happened?” I ask, enjoying her news.
“Yes. Anthony Gray is selling the auto repair shop.”
“After all these years? Is he retiring?” I’m not sure how old Anthony is, but it seems like a fair question.
“I don’t know,” Mom says. “He’s giving up the business because there isn’t enough trade in the town anymore.”
“Then how does he hope to sell it?”
“He doesn’t. He’s gonna sell the land. I’m pretty sure someone will want to develop it, so he should do okay.”
“I imagine he will, but I wonder what will be built there.” I think about the old auto shop on the edge of the town where I grew up.
“I dread to think. This place is changing, Zara.”
“Do you think you’ll ever leave?” I ask, feeling slightly concerned by her answer. Even though I’ve already left home myself, the idea of never going back there is surprisingly difficult to contemplate.
“No,” she says, and I sigh out my relief, keeping it as quiet as possible. “Your father’s buried here, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
I’m reminded of my father’s death, which wasn’t that long ago. It was mid-way through my first semester at college, and I’m relieved now that I studied in Burlington, which is only a thirty-minute drive from my hometown. I know many people prefer to study out of state, but I’m not one of them, and in the end, it proved to be a wise move. It meant I wasn’t far away when Mom got the phone call telling her my father had suffered a massive heart attack at his office, and died before the paramedics could get to him. None of us had seen it coming. In fact, he’d always been a picture of good health, and Mom found it hard to cope without him for a while. She’s better now, though. If she hadn’t been, I could never have left.
“What else is going on?” I ask, because even if she’s better, I know she doesn’t like talking about Dad’s death, and neither do I.
“I’m sure there must be plenty I’ve forgotten to tell you, but I didn’t call to gossip. I called to see how your workshop went last week.”
I was hoping she wouldn’t mention that. Not because it went badly, but because I’ve been trying to forget about my new job, and its imminent start… tomorrow morning.
“It went okay,” I say, filling the brief silence.
“Just okay?”
