somewhere between six and nine teens and preteens, two of them Krupperts, jostled and squirmed while trading barbs and gossip. She exchanged hellos with everyone, then leaned back against the padded leather while Allen backed the big Chevy onto Woodlawn and headed for the next pickup.
Her thoughts drifted from John Ross and Findo Gask to Bennett and Harper Scott and back again.
“Everything okay, Nest?” Kathy asked after a few minutes of front-seat silence amidst the backseat chaos. She was a big-boned blond carrying more weight than she wanted, as she was fond of saying, but on her the weight looked good.
Nest nodded. “Sure, fine.”
“You seem awfully quiet tonight.”
“For a basically noisy person,” Allen added, straight-faced.
Nest gave him a wry grin. “I’m just saving myself for later, when the singing starts.”
“Oh, is that it?” Allen said, nodding solemnly. He glanced at her over the top of his glasses, beetle-browed and balding. “You know, Kath, it’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.”
They hit a bump where weather and repeated plowing had hollowed out a section of the roadway.
Ouch! Hey, watch it!
the kids all began yelling at once in back, offering myriad, unnecessary pieces of driving advice.
“Quiet down, you animals!” Allen shouted over his shoulder, giving them a mock glare. When they did, for what must have been a nanosecond, he declared with a smirk, “Guess I showed them.”
Kathy patted his leg affectionately. “Father always knows best, honey.”
Allen and Kathy had been married right out of high school, both graduating seniors, six or seven years older than Nest. Allen began working as a salesman with a realty firm and found he had a gift for it. Ten years later, he was running his own business. Ten years earlier, he had approached Nest with an offer for her house at a time when she was seriously considering selling. Even though she had decided against doing so, she had been friends with the Krupperts ever since.
“How are the Petersons?” Kathy asked her suddenly.
“Pretty frail.” Nest dug her hands into her parka pockets with a sigh. The truth was, time was running out on the Petersons. Their health was deteriorating, there was no one to look after them, and nothing anyone said or did could convince them to consider moving into a care facility.
“You do the best you can for them, Nest,” Kathy said.
Allen shifted his weight in the driver’s seat and brushed back his thinning black hair. “They’re determined people. You can only do so much to help them. There’s no point in fussing about it. They’ll go on, just like they have been, until something happens to force them to change their way of life. You have to respect that.”
“I do, but I worry anyway. It’s like sitting around waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“Sure enough,” Kathy agreed with a sigh. “My uncle Frank was like that.”
“Gran, too,” Nest said.
Allen chuckled. “Good thing you two understand the problem so well. That way, you won’t become part of it later on. That’ll sure be a relief to a lot of folks.”
They picked up two more teens from the Moonlight Bay area, then headed back into town for a rendezvous with a vanload of kids driven by Marilyn Winthorn, one of the older ladies who still worked assiduously with the youth groups. From there, they started on their rounds, following a list of names and addresses supplied by Reverend Andrew Carpenter, who had taken over the ministry after Ralph Emery retired three years ago. At each stop, they sang a few carols at the front door, deposited a basket of Christmas goodies supplied by the ladies’ guild, exchanged Merry Christmases and Happy New Years, and moved on.
By the twelfth visit, Nest had stopped thinking about anything but how good this was making her feel.
It was sometime around eight-thirty when they pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian home on West Third, an area of fallen
Her thoughts drifted from John Ross and Findo Gask to Bennett and Harper Scott and back again.
“Everything okay, Nest?” Kathy asked after a few minutes of front-seat silence amidst the backseat chaos. She was a big-boned blond carrying more weight than she wanted, as she was fond of saying, but on her the weight looked good.
Nest nodded. “Sure, fine.”
“You seem awfully quiet tonight.”
“For a basically noisy person,” Allen added, straight-faced.
Nest gave him a wry grin. “I’m just saving myself for later, when the singing starts.”
“Oh, is that it?” Allen said, nodding solemnly. He glanced at her over the top of his glasses, beetle-browed and balding. “You know, Kath, it’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.”
They hit a bump where weather and repeated plowing had hollowed out a section of the roadway.
Ouch! Hey, watch it!
the kids all began yelling at once in back, offering myriad, unnecessary pieces of driving advice.
“Quiet down, you animals!” Allen shouted over his shoulder, giving them a mock glare. When they did, for what must have been a nanosecond, he declared with a smirk, “Guess I showed them.”
Kathy patted his leg affectionately. “Father always knows best, honey.”
Allen and Kathy had been married right out of high school, both graduating seniors, six or seven years older than Nest. Allen began working as a salesman with a realty firm and found he had a gift for it. Ten years later, he was running his own business. Ten years earlier, he had approached Nest with an offer for her house at a time when she was seriously considering selling. Even though she had decided against doing so, she had been friends with the Krupperts ever since.
“How are the Petersons?” Kathy asked her suddenly.
“Pretty frail.” Nest dug her hands into her parka pockets with a sigh. The truth was, time was running out on the Petersons. Their health was deteriorating, there was no one to look after them, and nothing anyone said or did could convince them to consider moving into a care facility.
“You do the best you can for them, Nest,” Kathy said.
Allen shifted his weight in the driver’s seat and brushed back his thinning black hair. “They’re determined people. You can only do so much to help them. There’s no point in fussing about it. They’ll go on, just like they have been, until something happens to force them to change their way of life. You have to respect that.”
“I do, but I worry anyway. It’s like sitting around waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“Sure enough,” Kathy agreed with a sigh. “My uncle Frank was like that.”
“Gran, too,” Nest said.
Allen chuckled. “Good thing you two understand the problem so well. That way, you won’t become part of it later on. That’ll sure be a relief to a lot of folks.”
They picked up two more teens from the Moonlight Bay area, then headed back into town for a rendezvous with a vanload of kids driven by Marilyn Winthorn, one of the older ladies who still worked assiduously with the youth groups. From there, they started on their rounds, following a list of names and addresses supplied by Reverend Andrew Carpenter, who had taken over the ministry after Ralph Emery retired three years ago. At each stop, they sang a few carols at the front door, deposited a basket of Christmas goodies supplied by the ladies’ guild, exchanged Merry Christmases and Happy New Years, and moved on.
By the twelfth visit, Nest had stopped thinking about anything but how good this was making her feel.
It was sometime around eight-thirty when they pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian home on West Third, an area of fallen
Similar Books
