“The inventory is for me. I’ll go over the list and help you decide what to do with everything. The junk will get donated or tossed. I ordered a dumpster to be delivered as well. They’ll park it on the driveway, and it will stay as long as you need it. Goodwill will get some of the household items, and the furniture and valuables that you don’t want will be sold at Kathleen’s shop.”
“This Kathleen, you trust her?”
“I don’t know her very well,” Pearl said with a shrug. “She’s a young woman, looks to be about your age. She inherited the shop from her great-aunt, Edna, who was a decent woman, known for being honest in her business dealings. A bit too tenderhearted, but she couldn’t help that, I guess. And if you think I’m old, you should have seen Edna Clark. She wasn’t much older than me, but she looked ancient! Even her wrinkles had wrinkles.” Pearl tapped on the table with her fingertips and grinned. “Kathleen stepped up to the plate when Edna was at the end. I understand she came right away, driving up from Ohio when she heard she was ill, then helped her when she was in the hospital and kept the shop running. And this was before she knew she’d be inheriting the whole kit and caboodle. So I would guess she’s not too bad.”
Joe gathered up the papers and tucked them back into the folder. “I think I understand what I need to do.”
“So you’re taking the job?”
“Yes.”
“Very good.” She took another sip of her coffee. “Let me show you the rest of the property while I still have energy. I’m pretty good in the morning, but as the day goes on, I lose steam.”
Joe walked ahead, pausing for her to catch up and holding the outside door open for her. When she headed for the stairs, he went to hold her elbow, but she waved him away. “I’ll let you know if I need help.” Pearl had never been opposed to accepting a gentleman’s gallant offer, but at this stage in her life, having someone help her do something as simple as descend the porch steps made her feel old. Not as old as some of the people who lived at Pine Ridge Hollow. Those folks had one foot in the grave, their eyes cloudy and teeth barely holding on. She wasn’t there yet.
It took a while, but she and Joe made the rounds of the property. She showed him two sheds and a chicken coop. “The chicken coop is only a shell of its former self,” she said, giving the structure a push with her walker. “You can tear it down. Use the tools in the barn. If you can’t find the right tools, go into town and buy what you need at the hardware store. Give them my name, and they can bill me.”
She’d saved the barn for last, swinging the door open and standing in the doorway. Old bales of hay lined one wall. Dust motes swirled on a shaft of light. She inhaled something that tickled her throat, and she coughed loudly and then again. She gripped the handles of her walker and leaned to one side, hacking and wheezing, her whole body trying to expel the irritant. Finally, she spat out a wad of grayish saliva and cleared her throat. When she looked up at Joe, she expected disgust, but instead his face showed concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I could use a sip of water.”
“Just a minute. I’ll get some.” He jogged off in the direction of the house.
By the time he’d returned holding a tall glass filled to the top with water, she was better but still grateful for the drink. Funny how a simple gesture made such a difference. She gulped it down. “Thank you.”
“Maybe you should go back inside and sit down?” he said kindly. Pearl saw that Joe had a compassion that had been missing in his father. Was it because his mother died and he knew what it was like to have loss, or was this something a person was born with? She had a feeling people were born with it, and she knew herself well enough to know she’d never had it. Only recently had she started to realize all the damage she’d done in thinking only of herself.
“Not until you see the best part,” she said. “The lake.” She set the glass down on a bale of hay next to the barn door, then continued to the back of the property, with Joe trailing behind. The path down to the lake had never been paved, but a century of feet pounding its course had turned the dirt hard as asphalt. She was able to go about halfway, then stopped at the top of the incline. They could see the lake through the trees ahead; sunlight danced on the surface of the water. “The rest of this is rough sledding for an old lady like me. I’ll wait here while you go take a look.”