Until the Harvest by Sarah Loudin Thomas Page B

with her friends. Or people she pretended were her friends. Margaret had never gotten much out of it. Maybe she should try going to Laurel Mountain Church with Emily.
    Emily’s spoon clicked against her bowl, and she reached for her tea. “Margaret, I think I may have a solution to your problem.”
    Margaret stirred her soup. “That would be nice, but please don’t tell me I should take this opportunity to go to school and broaden my horizons or something like that. I may end up doing it, but it’s just not what I want right now.”
    “My dear, if you truly want to learn how to run a farm, and you aren’t afraid of some hard work, I might have a place for you to live.”
    Margaret dropped her spoon and clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “With you?”
    “Not exactly.” Emily’s eyes twinkled. “John’s mother used to live in that little house to the east over the next rise. He kept it up while he was still alive, and as far as I know Casewell . . .” she hesitated, a cloud in her eyes. “Casewell kept an eye on it ever since. But now. Well, there’s no one to look after the place.”
    “The little gray house?”
    “Yes. There’s not much to it, and I haven’t been in it for years, but we can go over there after lunch and see what you think.”
    Margaret knew what she thought. She thought it was a miracle. Now, if only she could figure out how to bring Mayfair with her.
    They finished eating, although Margaret had to force the soup down, she was so excited. Then there was the tidying up, and then, since it was snowing, Margaret had to wait while Emily got on her coat, hat, scarf, boots, and mittens. Finally, they climbed into Margaret’s Volkswagen Beetle and drove the short distance to the house.
    Even with the new snow blanketing the roof, the house lookeda bit bleak. Its windows were blank, and it seemed . . . lonesome. Margaret thought she and the house might be a good match.
    Emily pulled a key out of her pocket and handed it over. “You do the honors.”
    Margaret inserted the key and jiggled until it turned. She opened the door into a sort of combination kitchen and dining area. It was small with linoleum on the floor and Formica on the counters. Floral-sprigged wallpaper peeled off the walls in places, and there was a dinette table with four chairs that seemed to take up too much room. Emily flipped a switch, and the overhead light blinked on with a buzz. A layer of dust lay over everything, and cobwebs draped the corners, but it wasn’t anything a thorough cleaning couldn’t fix.
    “Looks like Casewell hadn’t been here in a while.” Emily brushed her mittened hand through the dust on a counter. “I doubt he even noticed the wallpaper. But a little dirt never hurt anyone.”
    Margaret moved through the room and saw there was a sitting room behind it and two bedrooms to the side, with a cramped bathroom in between. The sitting room had a few pieces of furniture draped with sheets. She could see a twin bed in the first bedroom and nothing but a wardrobe in the second. Everything needed a fresh coat of paint, at the very least.
    “We’ll have to find you some more furniture, but this should get you started.” Emily stood in the doorway between the kitchen and sitting room. She turned a slow circle. “So what do you think?”
    “It’s perfect.” Margaret pushed down a wave of emotion. “But I don’t know if I can afford to pay the rent.”
    “Well, I assumed that might be an issue. I was thinking if you were willing to keep it clean and maybe fix it up a bit, that could serve as your rent.” She walked over and looked out one of the naked windows. “Goodness knows it needs a little lifein it, and while I’m not sure I want a roommate, I would very much like a neighbor. We’ll give it six months and then see. Could be you won’t like it.”
    Margaret clasped her hands in front of her and squeezed. It was all she could do not to gather cleaning supplies