Page 23 of Hidden Nature

“Oh, news in Heron’s Rest. You remember the old Parker place?”

Sloan dug into her memory files.

“Great big ramshackle two-story, between here and town, with a wide, saggy front porch. If you walked back that way on a really windy day, you could actually hear the wind whistling through the windows.

“An even more ramshackle detached garage/workshop, all tucked into the woods by a long, narrow driveway always full of potholes.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Brady Parker let the place go to hell when his father died—what, about ten years ago—and it wasn’t in the best of shape back then. Well, he sold it a couple months ago.”

“Somebody bought that old place? For the land maybe? It’s not exactly prime, and yeah, the house needs serious work, but it’d be a shame to tear it down. It’s got all kinds of character.”

“Apparently that’s not the plan. Some New Yorker bought it, with the plan—I’m told—to rehab it.”

Sloan frowned over her wine. “Really?”

“Really. Word is he intends to live here, start his own business. Handyman kind of business, which if he’s any good, would be great. Further news, Maggie Wells finally talked Barry into moving to Florida. We depended on Barry to deal with whatever repairs or improvements your dad and Jonah couldn’t get to.”

“Maggie and Barry, what’ll the Rest do without them?”

“We’re going to find out. They’re leaving December first. I have to hope the New York transplant works out. With the rentals, theshops—and God help us, your dad has his eye on a little cottage that should come on the market around the first of the year—it’ll be hard to keep up without someone as good and reliable as Barry.”

As she spoke, Elsie took a clip from her pocket. She twisted up her sunny hair, clipped it up and back. Then she took a freezer bag of sauce out, set it in a pot to thaw a little.

“What part of New York?”

“The New York. New York City. Supposedly worked in finance or investments. Wall Street. But I don’t know if that’s reliable information because I also heard he was in real estate, and someone else said developer, and so on.”

Sloan thought of the old Parker place, the size and scope of it, the history, the character. And frowned again.

“He doesn’t sound handy.”

“He really doesn’t, but I’m going to hope, then hope if he is handy, he doesn’t expect to get New York prices for labor.”

On a sigh, she lifted her wine. “Well, change happens, whether you’re ready for it or not.”

“I’ll say.”

Elsie reached across the counter to squeeze Sloan’s hand. “I have to ask, and want points for waiting this long. Did you eat today?”

“Most of a bowl of cereal with fruit, and a bowl of your soup. I’m writing all that down, too. And tomorrow, I’m going to do it all again. When I’m not sitting here peeling apples or pulling out pumpkin guts for pies.”

“I’ll be home by one to get all that started.”

“I’ll be here.”

“I like hearing that.”

They both heard Dean come in the mudroom, scolding the dog. “No, you don’t, pal. You sit right there until I get the Abominable Snowman off you.”

“Now you can get started on your day,” Elsie told her.

“Not very exciting. In fact, I bored myself. It’s a lot of rinse and repeat.”

“We want to hear it. Dean? I’m having a glass of wine with Sloan. Do you want one?”

“Pour away. Give me another minute. Whose idea was it to get a dog who likes to bury himself in snow?”

“Yours,” mother and daughter said together.

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