Page 119 of Keepsake
“Mom!” Lark gasped.
Suddenly my plate became very interesting to me. If Lark’s parents thought I was hanging around their mansion for a shot at their fortune, I really didn’t want to know. I cut the pretty waffle and lifted a corner to my mouth.
“Now hang on,” Lark argued. “I actually doubt that very much. My theory—since you brought it up—is that Gilman needs to marry someone seven years his junior because she’s too young to see that his success is a thin veneer which hides a whole lot of boring.” Lark put a hand on my arm. “And, I swear to God, my mother is not a snob.”
I risked a glance at her warm eyes, and they put me at ease.
“She’s just loyal. The moment Gilman admitted to cheating on me with his intern, the girl became the devil incarnate. She’s just protecting me.”
Across the table, Lark’s mom sighed. “I’m sorry. That was a crass thing to say. You’re right, honey. I don’t know anything about that girl. And I still want to choke her.”
Mr. Wainright laughed. “Choke Gilman instead, dear. But don’t get caught. He works for some great litigators.”
“Who needs more syrup?” Lark’s mom asked. “It’s the real thing. From Vermont. I bought it that day we visited the farm.”
I drizzled some onto my waffle. It was delicious.
But an hour later I had to say goodbye.
“Goodbye for now,” Lark corrected me as we stood on the sidewalk together. “It’s only a couple more days until I come to Vermont.”
“Okay,” I said, leaning in for one more kiss. There would never be enough of those. “I have to go now.”
“I know,” she said, still hugging me. We kissed again. And again.
Until finally I pulled myself together and left.
36
Zach
As it happened, Lark’s trip was postponed for a reason I never saw coming. Over Christmas, the Shipleys got sick. First it was Griff and Audrey and Dylan. And the next day, Daphne and May and Ruth. They all got a stomach virus, except for Grandpa.
For the first time ever, I was unscathed.
May texted Lark, telling her to stay away.We don’t want to give you the plague.
For a few days it was just Grandpa and I doing the milkings and feeding the livestock. We delivered cups of tea and slices of toast to whomever could eat. In the kitchen alone, I made sandwiches for Grandpa and I, and reheated soups from Ruth’s freezer.
“You’re a lifesaver,” the Shipleys would say as I brought them another dose of aspirin or a glass of ice water.
But really, it was nothing. I didn’t mind taking care of the people who take care of me.
Christmas was basically postponed. I didn’t give anyone the gift I’d bought, because a puking family doesn’t care about gifts. I just rode out the storm, wondering when the virus was going to hit me next.
It never did.
On the morning of the twenty-seventh, everyone finally felt human again. I helped Ruth make some pancakes, and she announced we should all open gifts.
They opened mine first. It was a solar-powered bird feeder with special powers. “When a squirrel lands on it, the motor spins the bar around, flinging the squirrel right off.”
“Omigod, I’ve seen a video of this!” Daphne said with a squeal. “They try to hang on and it’s hysterical.”
“That’s fun, Chewie,” Griff said with a chuckle. “We’ll hang it from the crabapple outside the kitchen window.”
From his mother, Dylan got video games, and Daphne clothes. Griff got lined work gloves, and Audrey got a gorgeous cookbook from the French school where she’d just spent two months. May got several books she’d been wanting to read.
It was a flurry of wrapping paper in the living room. “Who’s got Zach’s present?” Daphne asked.
