The Stroke of Winter(9)
“Especially you. With the store, you see all of us,” Tess said, handing them both their glasses and then picking up her own and holding it aloft. “To good neighbors! Thank you so much for blowing the driveway, and to the boys for shoveling the porch and stairs.”
The three clinked glasses. “Think nothing of it,” Jim said. “Happy to help! That’s what neighbors do.”
Tess had assembled a selection of cheeses, crackers, figs, and grapes on a heavy wooden cutting board, which she had placed on the butcher-block table. People had always sort of gravitated to it, for some reason, standing around it during family gatherings while the cook busied him-or herself at the stove. That was where they all stood now, as the fire crackled in the fireplace and the AGA radiated its warmth. The dog turned in a circle a few times and curled up next to the fire with a contented sigh.
Tess looked at her neighbors and smiled. Jim was fit and wiry, his hair still a dusty blond. His blue eyes were full of emotion and kindness. He was definitely an adventure-apparel sort of dresser, always wearing something appropriate if a long walk in the wilderness suddenly came up, an ever-present Swiss Army knife on his belt. When tourists came to Wharton, you could always tell the newbies by their brand-spanking-new denim shirts, crisp jeans, and pristine hiking boots or water shoes they had purchased at an expensive outdoors store for the occasion. Jim was the real thing and lived the outdoors lifestyle to its fullest.
Jane was what Tess would describe as Northwoods chic, always wearing interesting dangly jewelry, mostly silver, clothes made from sustainable fibers—linen was her go-to in the summer, brushed cotton and smart-wool sweaters in the winter—in muted colors, flaxes and whites and deep blues. Her thick hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob and was completely white, which suited her to a T.
“The stew smells incredible,” Jane said as she nibbled on a cracker topped with a decadent aged blue cheese.
The conversation turned to other things, then, the blizzard—who had dug out whom, whose pipes had burst. Many snowbirds made a practice of leaving house keys with neighbors who lived year-round in Wharton, and those neighbors had been checking on people’s homes, just to make sure they didn’t come home to a flood in the spring.
“I’m sorry if it’s chilly in here,” Tess said. “I guess my boiler went out.” She turned to Jim. “Do you know of anyone who can fix it? Someone who could come soon? Like maybe tomorrow?”
“I do, actually,” Jim said. “Wyatt Templeton. The guy with the malamutes. I’ll give him a call and tell him to call you.” Jim squinted at her. “Did you check the pilot light?”
Tess shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know how to do that, so . . . no.”
“I’ll run down and check it real quick,” Jim said. “It might be as simple as that.”
Jim trotted down the back stairs. He was back in the kitchen a moment later, shaking his head. “Nope,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He called his guy and arranged for him to be at the house in the morning.
Great, thought Tess. One thing handled.
Tess gave the stew a stir. “I think we’re about ready,” she said. She retrieved the salad from the fridge and set it on the table, along with plates, bowls, and silverware. “I thought we’d just eat in the kitchen instead of in the dining room. It’s so cozy here with the fireplace and the AGA.”
“Perfect,” Jane said, clearing the cheese board. Jim put the baguettes on the cutting board and set it on the table, along with the wine.
Tess cut three pieces from the baguette and placed one in each bowl, ladled in the stew, and topped it with cubes of the swiss, which she stirred into the hot liquid.
“This looks absolutely incredible,” Jim said, blowing on a cheesy spoonful before slipping it into his mouth. He closed his eyes. “Oh my.”
Tess chuckled. It was nice, having friends in for dinner again. This was one of the first times in a very long time she had cooked for anyone except Matt and Eli.
After dinner, Tess suggested they take their drinks into the living room, where she had already started the fire. As they followed her down the chilly hallway, Jane said, “I haven’t been in this part of the house before.”
“Really? That surprises me, you two living next door and all,” Tess said, but upon thinking about it for a moment, it made sense. Jim and Jane had moved to Wharton a little more than a decade prior, and after her grandmother died, her family vacations had sort of petered out. Eli had been getting to the age where he wanted to spend more time with his friends, and her parents had been spending more time at their place in Florida and were only in Wharton sporadically during those years.
Jane took in an audible breath as they entered the living room, the fire glowing in the fireplace and illuminating all the woodwork. “This is gorgeous,” she cooed, running her hand along the fireplace mantel.
The house really did have some beautiful features, including its original woodwork, like the ornately carved mantel. Tess saw it anew as she watched Jane admire it. Tess had spent a good bit of time polishing the woodwork throughout the house until it gleamed like new, dusting off the years, coaxing it back to its deep, rich beauty. Seeing it through someone else’s eyes made her heart swell with pride. It was all too easy to take a thing for granted, even something beautiful, when you lived with it every day, she thought. The extraordinary faded into ordinary, even mundane.