the roof missing.
“Stay away from it, Lia,” Dad said, as if I’d had any intention of ever going inside it. “That place is an accident waiting to happen.”
The privy was a hopeless mess of fallen walls and collapsed roof. I didn’t want to look at it.
The barn was okay, I guess. At least, it wasn’t as beat up as the other outbuildings, and there weren’t more than a few gaps in the walls. But Dad said, “We don’t need a barn or stables. I suggest that we have the whole thing torn down and erect a good-sized toolshed and workshop in its place.”
Mom nodded. “Keeping horses would be fun for the kids, but it’s way out of our price range.”
So are all those kids
, I wanted to tell her, but I kept my mouth shut.
Mr. Boudreau shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against what remained of a dead oak, its top branches gone and its trunk nothing but splinters of wood pointing up to the sky. “Couple of these old trees could come out, while you’re at it,
if
you’re at it,” he said.
“No ‘if’s,’ ” Mom told him. “We’ll talk to the structural engineers who are going to examine the house. As soon as we get their evaluation, we’ll begin work on modernizing the kitchen and adding bathrooms. Then you and I will have a long talk about expanding the vegetable garden and putting playground equipment in this open field ahead of us.” She turned to Dad and smiled. “Do you think we could fit a baseball diamond in that far corner?”
Before Dad could answer, Mr. Boudreau shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t, if I was you. Kidsplayin’ and yellin’ back there might be a bother to your renter.”
We all looked at him with surprise. “What renter?” Mom asked.
“There’s an old cabin on y’all’s property, back in the trees. You can’t see it good from here, but it’s there. Where the overseers once lived, I’m guessin’. The old wooden slave quarters fell apart years ago, but that cabin was built a whole lot better, and Ava Phipps has been livin’ there for a good long while.”
A tingle ran up my backbone when Mr. Boudreau mentioned the overseers. The last overseer had been Morgan Slade. That was where he had lived. The story in Charlotte’s diary was beginning to come more and more alive to me.
“Does anyone else know about this Ava Phipps living on the property?” Mom asked.
“You mean, like is Miz Phipps a squatter or is she livin’ there legal?” Mr. Boudreau asked.
“Yes. That’s what I mean,” Mom said.
“Your grandmother knew,” Mr. Boudreau said. “I guess you could say that at first Miz Phipps was a squatter. I mean, she come across this empty cabin, and she moved right in and stayed. I knew about it, but I wasn’t about to chase her off, considering her circumstances.
“I told Mrs. Langley when she came here to check on how things were going, and she and Miz Phipps sat down and had them a long talk. They was both a lot younger then, but Miz Phipps … well, she never was quite right in the head. Mrs. Langley was a kind woman. She didn’t turn Miz Phipps out, ’cause where would the poor womango? Mrs. Langley told Miz Phipps she could go on livin’ in that cabin and nobody would bother her.”
He looked at Mom questioningly, and she came through. I knew she would.
“Grandma was like that,” Mom said. “And I’ll be glad to carry out her wishes. Mrs. Phipps can live in the cabin, but I do want to talk to her. She needs to know what our plans are for the house.”
Mr. Boudreau just shrugged, as if he were positive those plans would never take shape. “Y’all got on the right kind of shoes for walkin’ in the field,” he said. “When you get into the field, you’ll see a kind of path that runs along the edge of the woods under the trees. Take it and it’ll lead you right to the cabin.”
We followed his directions to a narrow beaten path, and somehow I found myself leading a single file, with Mom behind me and Dad behind her.
“Stay away from it, Lia,” Dad said, as if I’d had any intention of ever going inside it. “That place is an accident waiting to happen.”
The privy was a hopeless mess of fallen walls and collapsed roof. I didn’t want to look at it.
The barn was okay, I guess. At least, it wasn’t as beat up as the other outbuildings, and there weren’t more than a few gaps in the walls. But Dad said, “We don’t need a barn or stables. I suggest that we have the whole thing torn down and erect a good-sized toolshed and workshop in its place.”
Mom nodded. “Keeping horses would be fun for the kids, but it’s way out of our price range.”
So are all those kids
, I wanted to tell her, but I kept my mouth shut.
Mr. Boudreau shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against what remained of a dead oak, its top branches gone and its trunk nothing but splinters of wood pointing up to the sky. “Couple of these old trees could come out, while you’re at it,
if
you’re at it,” he said.
“No ‘if’s,’ ” Mom told him. “We’ll talk to the structural engineers who are going to examine the house. As soon as we get their evaluation, we’ll begin work on modernizing the kitchen and adding bathrooms. Then you and I will have a long talk about expanding the vegetable garden and putting playground equipment in this open field ahead of us.” She turned to Dad and smiled. “Do you think we could fit a baseball diamond in that far corner?”
Before Dad could answer, Mr. Boudreau shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t, if I was you. Kidsplayin’ and yellin’ back there might be a bother to your renter.”
We all looked at him with surprise. “What renter?” Mom asked.
“There’s an old cabin on y’all’s property, back in the trees. You can’t see it good from here, but it’s there. Where the overseers once lived, I’m guessin’. The old wooden slave quarters fell apart years ago, but that cabin was built a whole lot better, and Ava Phipps has been livin’ there for a good long while.”
A tingle ran up my backbone when Mr. Boudreau mentioned the overseers. The last overseer had been Morgan Slade. That was where he had lived. The story in Charlotte’s diary was beginning to come more and more alive to me.
“Does anyone else know about this Ava Phipps living on the property?” Mom asked.
“You mean, like is Miz Phipps a squatter or is she livin’ there legal?” Mr. Boudreau asked.
“Yes. That’s what I mean,” Mom said.
“Your grandmother knew,” Mr. Boudreau said. “I guess you could say that at first Miz Phipps was a squatter. I mean, she come across this empty cabin, and she moved right in and stayed. I knew about it, but I wasn’t about to chase her off, considering her circumstances.
“I told Mrs. Langley when she came here to check on how things were going, and she and Miz Phipps sat down and had them a long talk. They was both a lot younger then, but Miz Phipps … well, she never was quite right in the head. Mrs. Langley was a kind woman. She didn’t turn Miz Phipps out, ’cause where would the poor womango? Mrs. Langley told Miz Phipps she could go on livin’ in that cabin and nobody would bother her.”
He looked at Mom questioningly, and she came through. I knew she would.
“Grandma was like that,” Mom said. “And I’ll be glad to carry out her wishes. Mrs. Phipps can live in the cabin, but I do want to talk to her. She needs to know what our plans are for the house.”
Mr. Boudreau just shrugged, as if he were positive those plans would never take shape. “Y’all got on the right kind of shoes for walkin’ in the field,” he said. “When you get into the field, you’ll see a kind of path that runs along the edge of the woods under the trees. Take it and it’ll lead you right to the cabin.”
We followed his directions to a narrow beaten path, and somehow I found myself leading a single file, with Mom behind me and Dad behind her.
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