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“Plus, you decided it would be a cool thing to own. The only gypsy caravan in the neighborhood and all that.”
He didn’t deny it.
She ran her hand over the walls. “A lot of this has been stenciled, but there’s some handwork. It’s a good job.”
He began poking around, opening the cupboard, pulling out the built-in drawers, and investigated a wrought-iron wall sconce shaped like a seahorse. “These are wired for electricity, so I’ll need to get some power out here. I’d better talk to the electrician.”
Blue wasn’t ready to leave, but he held the door open for her, so she followed him out into the yard. The electrician squatted in front of a junction box, the radio at his side playing an old Five for Fighting song. April stood a few feet away, holding a notebook and studying the concrete slab jutting from the rear of the house. Dean still hadn’t mentioned anything today about her leaving. The Five for Fighting song came to an end and segued into the opening chords of “Farewell, So Long,” one of Jack Patriot’s ballads. Dean’s gait faltered, the change of rhythm so slight Blue doubted she would have noticed if April’s head hadn’t come up at the same time. She snapped the notebook closed. “Turn it down, Pete.”
The electrician glanced over at her but didn’t immediately move.
“Never mind.” April tucked her notebook under her arm and headed inside. At the same time, Dean set off for the front yard, his mission to talk to the electrician abandoned.
Blue p
oked around the overgrown garden. Instead of figuring out how she’d get into town so she could look for a job, she thought over what she’d just witnessed. “Farewell, So Long” came to an end, and the Moffatt Sisters’ “Gilded Lives” began to play. Even some of the adult contemporary stations had been playing a few of the Moffatts’ country hits since Marli’s death, generally pairing the songs with Jack Patriot’s “Farewell, So Long,” which Blue found a little crass, since they’d been divorced for years. She turned it all over in her mind as she headed inside.
Three men speaking a language she didn’t understand were in the kitchen installing charcoal soapstone countertops. April sat in the dining nook, frowning at a notebook page. “You’re an artist,” she said as Blue came in. “Help me with this. I’m great with clothes, but not as good drawing architectural details, especially when I’m not sure what I want.”
Blue had been hoping to snag another doughnut, but the box held only a dusting of confectioners’ sugar and a couple of jelly stains.
“It’s the screen porch,” April said.
Blue sat next to her and took in the drawing on the notebook page. As the men chattered in the background, April explained what she envisioned. “I don’t want this porch looking like it belongs on a broken-down fishing cabin. I see big sunburst windows set above the screening to let in plenty of light and moldings to break up all the height, but I’m not sure what kind.”
Blue thought it over and began sketching some simple trims.
“I like that one,” April said. “Can you draw the end wall for me? With the windows?”
Blue sketched each wall as April described it. They made some adjustments and came up with a more balanced arrangement. “You’re good at this,” April said when the workers headed outside for a cigarette break. “Would you mind doing some interior sketches for me? But maybe I’m assuming too much. I’m not exactly sure how long you’re staying or what your relationship is with Dean.”
“Blue and I are engaged,” Dean said from the doorway.
Neither of them had heard him approach. He set his empty coffee mug by the stove and walked over to pick up Blue’s sketch. “She’ll be staying as long as I’m here.”
“Engaged?” April said.
He didn’t look up from the sketch. “That’s right.”
Blue could barely resist rolling her eyes. This was an obvious gotcha on his part. He wanted to remind his mother how little she meant to him, to show her he hadn’t considered her important enough to let her know he was getting married. What a totally crappy thing to do to someone on her deathbed.
“Congrats.” April set down her pencil. “How long have you known each other?”
“Long enough,” he said.
Blue couldn’t keep pretending that what April had witnessed a few short hours ago hadn’t happened. “Last night was an aberration. Just so you know, I was fully clothed when I went to bed.”
April’s eyebrow formed a skeptical arch.
Blue tried to look demure. “I took a virginity vow when I was thirteen.”
“A what?” April asked.
Dean sighed. “She didn’t take a virginity vow.”
As a matter of fact, Blue had done exactly that, although even at thirteen she’d had her doubts about keeping it. But she’d long ago made her peace with God, if not Sister Luke, who’d coerced her into the whole thing. “Dean doesn’t agree, but I think a wedding night should mean something. That’s why I’m moving into the caravan tonight.”
He snorted. April gazed at Blue for a long time, then at him. “She’s…lovely.”
