Caroline wiped her hands on the striped apron she wore and reached behind the drapes to switch off the outside lights. Immediately, the scene beyond the window jumped back, leaving only their reflections in the glass and that of the room around them.
Could Norah have imagined the boy she saw standing there? She had only seen him for a moment. But why would her eyes play tricks on her?
“I’ve never seen so many birdfeeders all in one place, Aunt Caroline,” she said, remembering that she was going to start over with her great-aunt and putting on a smile. “It’s amazing!”
“Amazing, is it? Well, it’s a fair bit of work too,” the woman admitted. “I get juncos, blue jays, cardinals.” She counted them off on long, thin fingers. “Grosbeaks, nuthatches, more varieties every year. And squirrels too, of course. I used to put up baffles to keep the squirrels off the feeders, but now I just make sure there’s enough food to satisfy all the little creatures. They know they can count on being fed here.”
“In the morning, I’ll go out and have a look around myself,” said Norah. She wondered if the next day there’d be any way of telling whether there had been someone in the yard.
“There’s not much to look at,” Aunt Caroline told her in a sour tone. “The only thing I grew this year were sunflowers. The birds appreciate them, anyway. The rest of the plants come up in spite of my neglect. Fortunately, I have no neighbours to complain about all the weeds.”
“It must be a lot of work for one person,” Norah agreed. “Is there anything I could do now to help you with supper? Maybe I could set the table. Do you eat in here, or in the kitchen?”
“I take my meals here in the dining room.” Aunt Caroline drew herself up to her full height again. “You’ll find mats for the table in the drawer of the buffet, cutlery in the top drawer on the right.”
Since there was no invitation to join her aunt in the kitchen, where she knew it would be warmer, Norah hurried upstairs and dragged a sweatshirt out of her suitcase before returning to set the table.
Ten minutes later, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of steaming stew, Aunt Caroline noticed the sweatshirt. “You’re cold,” she accused, frowning.
“A little,” Norah admitted. “I had a nap, and I always feel chilled when I wake up. Don’t you?”
“I do not take naps during the daytime, unless I am ill.” The woman spooned some stew onto Norah’s plate and looked at her over the top of her eyeglasses, adding, “You’re not ill, I hope.”
“No, I’m fine.” Norah set her fork back onto the table. “But I was wondering, Aunt Caroline, there doesn’t seem to be any heat in that bedroom.”
“If you leave your door open, you’ll be warm enough,” the woman said. “I trust the room suits you, otherwise?”
“Oh, yes. It’s fine.”
The woman nodded. “It was good enough for me when I was a girl.”
“Really? It was your room? Then, you’ve always lived here?”
“I have. This house was built for my father.” Great-aunt Caroline set her mouth into a straight line again and peered critically at the food that remained on Norah’s plate.
Norah returned her attention to the meal. The stew, if not her hostess, was warm and delicious. There was homemade bread to go with it and a fragrant spice cake for dessert.
“You’re a very good cook, Aunt Caroline,” Norah said, sitting back against her chair and putting her hands on her full stomach. “I’ll help you with the dishes whenever you’re ready to do them.”
“No, thank you.” Her great-aunt rose from the table. “I suggest you go find a book to read.” She hesitated. “You do read, don’t you?”
Norah gave a little laugh. “Of course.”
“Well, it’s just that I heard with all your TVs and computers, children don’t read these days. More’s the pity.”
“We still read,” Norah protested. “I brought two books with me, in fact. I love to curl up with a book. But I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Well, that’s considerate of you, I suppose, but I am used to managing on my own,” Aunt Caroline retorted. And just before she disappeared through the swinging door, “You may bring your book into the kitchen, if you wish.”
Norah didn’t wait to be asked a second time. She flew from the room and was back downstairs with one of her paperbacks in two minutes, plopping into a rocking chair in the kitchen beside the stove. The wood in its belly crackled companionably.
Aunt Caroline washed dishes in silence for a few minutes. “I think you’d better tell me about these cousins of yours that are coming,” she suggested grudgingly. She didn’t turn from the sink. “Are they noisy children?”
Norah looked up in surprise. “No more than other kids,” she said, talking to her great-aunt’s back. “I guess you could say Becca gets a bit hyper at times, but she’s only ten. Andrew’s sort of serious.”
The sound of gentle splashing continued from the sink.
“Andrew is the same age as me,” Norah continued. “I think his birthday is in January. You know, Mom and I hadn’t seen them in such a long time, and then Uncle Richard brought them out west last summer. It was their first time seeing the Rockies and the coast. After that, we started emailing each other all the time.”
Putting a finger in the book to mark her place, Norah went on, “It’s always been just Mom and me. But lately, Mom’s had this thing about reconnecting with any relatives we have. That’s why she wrote to you.” She saw Aunt Caroline reach for a towel from behind the stove. “You wouldn’t happen to remember my dad, would you?” Norah asked, hopefully.
The woman took a plate from the dish rack and began to dry it vigorously. “He was my sister’s child. They lived down east.”
“I know. I can’t remember him either,” Norah admitted with a sigh. “Sometimes I think I can, and then I see a picture of him with me when I was little, and I know it’s the picture I remember. I was only two when he died. I wish you had gotten to know him.” She didn’t add what she was thinking—that at least it would give them something to talk about.
“Well, we all have our own lives to live,” declared Aunt Caroline. She finished wiping up around the sink, untied the apron and hung it behind the door. “Come along now. We’re finished in here,” she announced. She had her hand on the light switch already.
Without another word, they left the kitchen. As she passed the buffet in the dining room, Aunt Caroline picked up a wicker sewing basket and proceeded with it through the living room and across the hall to the den. Norah followed on her heels. She stopped beside the television. “May I turn it on?” she asked.
“You could if it worked,” replied Aunt Caroline, placing a cushion against the back of one of the leather chairs and lowering herself into it.
“Oh. Well, maybe when they get here, one of the grownups can take it somewhere and get it fixed for you.”
“Whatever
