Chapter 16 - The Winter Solstice
The shortest day of the year arrived with a heavy blanket of powdery snow that muffled the sounds of Portage County until the entire world felt like it was wrapped in white cotton. By seven in the morning, the yellow porch light of the old farmhouse was still cutting through the drifting flakes as I stood at the kitchen stove, stirring a heavy iron skillet of oats and bacon.
Arden came down the stairs wearing her heavy wool sweater and thick work boots, her hair tied back in a practical ponytail. The dark circles under her eyes that had haunted her for the first six months after she left Grant were entirely gone, replaced by the clear, healthy color of someone who spent her days working under an open sky.
"The delivery truck from Akron is already at the county line," Arden said, pouring herself a mug of black coffee from the stoneware pot. "Harold called from the shop a few minutes ago. He said the salt spreader on the Ford is acting up again, but Dave is already down there with the socket set."
"Tell Harold if he doesn't clean the grease off the alternator terminals before spraying them, he’ll be buying a new one out of his own pocket," I said without turning around, flipping a strip of bacon with my spatula.
Arden leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and watching the snow swirl past the windowpane. "Keller's quitclaim came through the recorder's office at nine yesterday morning. The clerk stamped it and filed it right on top of the old ninety-five ledger. It's official, Mom. Muirfield is ours—every square inch, free and clear."
I set the spatula down and turned to face her. "It was always ours, Arden. Some fancy lawyer in Columbus just had to be reminded of who poured the concrete."
After breakfast, we walked down the plowed lane together toward the service bay. The snow was knee-deep in the open pasture, untouched except for the zigzag tracks of a lone fox hunting field mice near the old cedar rail fence. The air was so cold it burned the inside of my nose, but my breath came out steady and strong.
When we pushed open the heavy roll-up door of the shop, the warm blast of air from the radiant heaters hit us like an embrace.
Harold was under the lift, cursing quietly at a stubborn oil pan bolt, while Dave the locksmith was sitting at the parts counter polishing a set of deadbolt cylinders with an oily rag. Toby was sitting on an upturned milk crate in the corner, feeding scraps of a turkey sandwich to a stray gray cat that had adopted the garage back in November.
"Morning, boss," Harold called out from beneath the chassis, sliding out on his creeper with a wrench in his hand. "Roads are clear up to the highway, but the plow hasn't hit Route 44 yet. We might have a quiet morning."
"Good," I said, walking over to my old wooden chair at the head of the service counter. "That gives us time to go over the quarterly tax filings before the spring rush starts."
Arden sat down at the desk beside me, pulling a thick stack of invoices toward her. She didn't look like a woman hiding from her past anymore. She looked like a woman who owned her future.
The phone on the wall behind the counter rang—a sharp, single ring that made the cat jump off Toby's lap.
Harold reached out from the lift and grabbed the receiver. "Muirfield Auto and Land... Yeah, she's right here." He handed the receiver to me with a raised eyebrow. " Ravenna municipal court clerk. Judge Vance wants to know if you're still coming by for lemon bars this afternoon."
I took the phone, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
May you like
"Tell the judge," I said, looking across the bright, crowded service bay at my daughter and my grandson, "that I'll be there by two. And tell him to put the coffee on—we’ve got a lot of history to catch up on."
***
