Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(18)

Ida crinkled her nose and began thinking. There was a possibility Peter could be right. Maybe the bed could give Caroline back a tiny piece of her daddy. Maybe it would—

While she thought it over, Peter said, “There’s no maybe about it.”

Having him give voice to her thoughts was a bit scary. “Are you some kind of magician? A mind reader, maybe?”

Another mischievous grin and a shake of the head. Peter reassured Ida that what she needed was a lace coverlet, which he happened to have. While Ida stood there wondering how he came by such information, Peter grabbed his bright yellow stepstool and reached for a number of things on the higher shelves. In less than five minutes he’d gathered them into a grouping that he placed on the counter.

“How’s this?” he asked.

The lace coverlet was one of the most beautiful Ida had ever seen, and the silk pillow with its threaded tassels was the ideal complement. The globe lamp was delicate and feminine, a far cry from the old lamp with a broken switch. But the teddy bear was something she didn’t understand.

“I guess you don’t know everything,” she said to Peter. “My granddaughter’s twenty-eight years old.”

“I know,” Peter replied, “but I’ll bet she had a bear just like this when she was a child.”

Ida gave a big hearty chuckle. “And you’re going to tell me it will bring back good memories, right?”

Peter came back with a shrug that suggested it couldn’t hurt to try.

Ida bought almost everything Peter offered, but she again said no to the young man’s picture. “I’ve no place to hang it.”

“Seems to me it would be perfect above the bed,” Peter replied.

Ida again shook her head. “This time you’re wrong. It’s not something I need.”

Before Ida left she found a snow globe that played “Silent Night” and bought it for herself. She had always longed to see a snowy Christmas, but in southern Georgia such a thing almost never happened.

As she gathered up her things to leave, Peter suggested he could deliver them. “That room also needs to be painted,” he said. “I’m thinking a pale lavender.” He promised to pick up the paint and stop by later in the afternoon.

~

When Peter Pennington arrived at the house it was four in the afternoon, and he was still wearing that same black suit.

“Afternoon,” he nodded. Then without any direction he walked up the stairs and set the brown bag and a can of paint in what was to be Caroline’s room. “Nice,” he said. “Very nice.” He pushed open the window, removed his suit jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.

Ida, who followed behind with the crocheted coverlet, asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’d think it rather obvious,” he replied and pried off the lid of the paint can.

“I can’t afford to have you—”

“No charge,” he said and continued working. He unfolded a long handle and attached it to the end of a roller he’d pulled from the bag. As he started pouring paint into the tray, he turned to Ida. “I’d love a glass of milk and a slice of that peach pie you’re baking.”

“Well, of course,” she said and hurried down the stairs. She wasn’t gone long, perhaps long enough for him to have a single wall half-done, certainly not more than that, but when she returned Peter had finished painting the entire room and he’d already slid most of the furniture back in place. She gasped. “How on earth…”

“Mmm, that pie looks good,” Peter said and took it from Ida’s hand.

She turned to take in all he’d done, and when she turned back the pie was gone and the milk glass empty.

“This is just marvelous,” Ida said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“That delicious pie was thanks enough,” Peter answered. By then he was back to wearing the black jacket. As he headed down the stairs Ida noticed that there was not a single splash of lavender paint splattered on it. “Unbelievable,” she said.

After supper that evening, as everyone lingered over coffee and peach pie, Ida told the story of what happened.

“He did it in twenty minutes, maybe less,” she said, “and without getting a drop of paint on anything but the walls.”

“Yeah, sure.” Louie laughed. “And nobody but you saw this Peter Pennington, right?” He gave another loud guffaw.

“No one else was here,” Ida explained. “I was going to introduce Peter and looked for y’all, but there was not a soul around. Honestly.”

“Well,” Laricka sighed, “If I’d have known ahead of time, maybe…but I’d promised the boys I’d treat them to a movie.”

Louie guffawed even more loudly. “Don’t ya get it? She’s pulling our leg. My bet is she had a painter here all day.”

“No,” Ida argued. “It’s the truth.” But she might as well have saved her breath, because the more she protested the louder they all laughed.

When everyone rose from table and headed to their rooms, Wilbur stayed behind. “How about I give you a hand with these dishes?” he said, and before she could answer no he was on his way to the kitchen with a stack of dirty dessert plates.

Ida followed behind balancing four mugs and a handful of silverware.