Where the Forest Meets the Stars(27)

“I know,” Ursa said. “You’re lucky to be named after a cat. Gabe has a tabby kitten I call Caesar.”
“How cool, but I’m not named after a cat. My completely insane mother named me after a TV witch.”
“Really?”
“For real, and that’s why if anyone calls me by my real name”—she leaned down and whispered “Tabitha” in Ursa’s ear—“I will punch them in the nose.”
Ursa smiled for the first time that day.
“She means that,” Jo said. She looked at the house, as enchanting as ever. “How much? You still haven’t told me.”
“The rent is only a little high,” Tabby evaded, “especially considering we don’t have to buy furniture. But she wants rent now because she’s leaving.”
“Now? We’d be paying for two places until August.”
Tabby dropped to her knees on the sidewalk and held her hands in a prayer gesture toward Jo. “Please, please, please use some of that wonderful money you inherited to help us get this house. I’m begging you!”
Ursa had probably never seen an adult act so goofy, but she loved it. Her left cheek was dimpled in a big grin.
“Get up, you dope,” Jo said.
“Please?”
“Let me look at the house and talk to the lady.”
Tabby sprang to her feet. “It’s our dream house! How often did we wish we lived here when we jogged past it?”
Jo walked to the front of the little house and looked up the walkway lined with a rainbow of bearded irises. “Imagine us drinking wine and pondering mysteries of the universe on that porch swing,” Tabby said.
“Will we be able to afford wine?” Jo said.
“If we correctly prioritize our grocery list.”
Frances Ivey, the retired physical therapist who owned the house, greeted them at the door, casting a wary stare on Ursa. “Who is this?” she asked.
“Jo is babysitting her today,” Tabby said.
“Good,” Ms. Ivey said. “No kids. No dogs. No smoking.”
“But cats are okay,” Tabby said. “Ms. Ivey has two.”
Ursa squatted down to pet the calico weaving between their legs.
“I hope neither of you are allergic?” Ms. Ivey said.
“That would be a bummer for a veterinary student,” Tabby said.
“It would,” Ms. Ivey said with a hint of a smile. “Of course, I’ll take my cats with me to Maine.” She closed the front door behind them. “Tabby told me you’re doing your PhD research down in the Shawnee Forest,” she said to Jo. “And you study birds?”
“Yes, bird ecology and conservation.”
“I like birds. I have several feeders out back. If you decide to rent, I’d appreciate it if you kept them filled. The birds have gotten used to me feeding them all these years.”
“I’d love to feed them. Having birds to watch would be great after apartment living.”
Ms. Ivey took Jo on a tour of the house. Up a wooden stairway with baluster handrails, three bedrooms, one small and two tiny, shared a full bath with antique tile and a claw-foot bathtub. Downstairs, the living room had a working fireplace with a gorgeous old oak mantel. Next to it was a dining room that had been converted to a reading room, and a kitchen with a breakfast nook. The downstairs half bath was as quaint as the bathroom upstairs. The rugs and furniture were simple, giving emphasis to the early nineteenth-century charm of carved woodwork, burnished oak floors, and stained-glass window transoms.
A wooden deck beyond the kitchen french doors overlooked a small backyard, a private garden of cottage-style flower beds, redbud trees, and forsythia and rhododendron bushes. A sizeable river birch shaded the western side of the garden and a bench surrounded by ferns and blooming hostas and astilbes. A house wren sang its burbling song near its nest box and a variety of bird feeders.
“I love the natural look of your garden,” Jo said.
“Thank you,” Ms. Ivey said. “Do you know how to take care of flowers?”
“I do. My mom had a big garden.”
“I didn’t grow up with a garden, but I love flowers,” Tabby said. “That’s why your house was one of the best on our jogging route.”
“Let’s go inside and look at the lease,” Ms. Ivey said.
“You’re going to let us rent it?” Tabby said.
“If you agree to the terms.”
“We’ll agree to anything,” Tabby said. “I’ll sign over my firstborn.”
Ms. Ivey smiled. “I’m glad you love it that much.”
Ms. Ivey served iced tea while they talked about the lease in the living room. She gave Ursa milk and cookies at the kitchen table. She also gave her crayons and paper, probably too childish for her, but Ursa obediently drew pictures while they talked business in the other room.
They soon discovered they shared many more interests than flowers, birds, and cats, and Frances, as she insisted they call her, eventually trusted them enough to tell them why she was leaving her beloved house. Her former partner, Nancy, who’d moved away after they split two years earlier, had been in a devastating car wreck and had no one to help her. Nancy had a shattered arm and leg, and the foot on her other leg had been amputated. Frances needed to leave immediately. She would stay in Maine for at least one school year to keep the lease simple.
Though the rent was high and Jo hated to pay for two houses until August, she signed the lease and paid the portion Tabby couldn’t afford. As Tabby had said, why not use some of the money she’d inherited? Her mother would have loved the house. Every time Jo sat in the garden, she would feel connected to her.