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“Shell? I gotta go. Looks like I’m about to get a visitor.” Liz hung up and hurried to the front door.
“Can I help you?” Liz peered down at the woman, who was studying her with suspicion.
“I think the question is can I helpyou?” The woman waved toward the house. “Last I heard, this is Frank Weston’s house.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Liz stuck out her hand. “I’m his daughter, Liz.”
“Oh.” The woman shook her hand. “Bunny Howard.”
“Howard. What happened to the O’Donnells?”
“Ted and I bought the house from them fifteen years ago. I’ve been picking your father’s tomatoes.”
Huh?Liz glanced out toward the backyard, where the garden used to be when she was little. It looked a bit overgrown. “He still had a garden?”
“Yep.”
“But it’s been six years since he’s been here. Surely nothing would still be growing through all those winters.”
Bunny shrugged. “I thought he might get better, so I planted, fertilized, and harvested. Do you want some? I have the last of them ripening on the kitchen window.”
“Umm… no thanks.” The thought of biting into a sweet, juicy garden tomato did make her mouth water, though.
“I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. He was one of the good ones.”
“He was?” Liz wondered if maybe Bunny had the wrong house. Then again, maybe she had known her father in a different capacity, and Liz supposed it was possible he had mellowed. To be honest, her father hadn’t seemed quite as mean when she’d visited him at Tall Pines, but her unpleasant memories had always colored those visits.
“Oh yeah. After Ted passed your dad helped me fix the back shed, put up Christmas lights, even shoveled my driveway. He played a mean game of poker too.”
“You played poker with my father?” Liz couldn’t picture her father playing poker. Maybe she hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought.
“Sure!” Bunny smiled at the memory, then her eyes narrowed. “Not that strip kind you young folks play. Regular poker. He was a friend. That’s all, no hanky-panky.”
Liz almost laughed picturing her dad playing strip poker and engaging in hanky-panky. “Are you sure you’re talking about Frank Weston?”
“Yes, of course. You said you were his daughter, didn’t you?” Bunny looked confused.
“I am. I just can’t picture him playing poker. Did you know Mom?”
Bunny smiled again. “A little bit. She was a lovely woman. So sad that she died so young and left your father a widower. He was very lonely. Such a nice guy.” Bunny looked at her as if wondering why she hadn’t come to visit more often.
“My siblings and I live far away.”
“Of course. Well, I just wanted to make sure you had permission to be here.”
“I’ll be here every day.” Liz gestured to the mess in the house behind her. “Need to clean the place out and get it up for sale.”
“For sale? Your dad always hoped one of his kids would move here.”
Why? The house wasn’t exactly a grand estate that had been in the family for generations. “Umm, I don’t think so.”
Bunny simply smiled and then turned to go. “Okay, dear, let me know if you need any help. I’m right next door.”
“Great, thanks.”
Bunny left, and Liz turned back to the house. It looked like a time capsule from a hoarder. Where in the world would she start?
