Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"Didn't mean to startle you, dear," she said, giving me a sweet smile.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, no edge to my words. I loved Penny. Even if she was only supposed to be in the house to check the mail, make sure the air, in the summer, and the heat, in the winter, were working properly. As well as the very occasional dusting or general upkeep. If there was any sort of heavy lifting, there was no way we would have continued to employ Penny, who was somewhere in her mid-eighties, though she was spry enough to pass as a full decade or so younger.
She was a sturdy, average-height woman with a shock of long white hair and bright blue eyes that shined out of her well-lined face. As always, she had on a dress in plain white, adorned with about half a dozen necklaces and stacked bangle bracelets that went nearly to her elbow.
"Oh, I come now and again. Enjoy the silence. Let the strangers see that someone is around. I like it here. It has many fond memories."
Penny had engaged in a short and—at the time —tawdry affair with my grandfather just weeks after my grandmother passed. While my grandfather never got serious about a woman after his wife's death, Penny clearly carried a torch, even after his passing. "I would have cleared out had I known you were coming to visit."
It almost sounded like she was chastising me for visiting my family vacation home. Had I loved her any less, I would have been offended. As such, she was like a kooky great aunt that I couldn't help but adore.
"It was a spur of the moment idea. I needed to get out of the city for a little while."
"I don't know how you live there. It gets so loud and packed."
"And Cape May doesn't, in the on-season?" I clarified, putting my rolling suitcase beside the door, moving to sit down on the hideous floral armchair across from Penny.
"Yes, well, it passes," she said, waving a hand.
It wasn't passing right now. Which might have been why she was in my family home instead of her own. Penny lived in a beautiful Victorian on the corner of the main street in downtown where the shops and restaurants and nightlife were crazy all through the summer.
My family home was a small ranch-style white structure with black shutters that was a fifteen-minute walk to downtown, but only two blocks from the beach. I wasn't here for the beach. I would go, but at sunrise or sunset. I wasn't a fan of the nearly shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, of crappy music blaring from someone's portable speakers, or shrieking kids. I liked kids, but I was here to unwind, and I knew that would put me on edge.
I'd had a rough month.
I needed some space to breathe.
And since there was no extra money to get myself a hotel room somewhere quiet, I had to settle for the family vacation home. With its awful décor and the fact that it was the worst time of year to visit when you wanted to be alone.
"You look tired, Gigi," Penny said, clucking her tongue.
"I am," I admitted. I wouldn't lie, I wanted a little sympathy. I had been running myself ragged for months. It was thankless work. And I was feeling drained and needy.
"Well, you will be able to unwind here," she said, rising from her rocking chair, reaching for her oversized paisley bag. "Just let me know when you head out. I will come back to keep an eye on things. And if you need anything while you're here, you know where to find me."
"Thank you, Penny," I said, watching as she made her way to the door, inwardly wishing she would have stayed around, would have shared a cup of tea with me.
I didn't mind being alone. I was used to it. But it would have been nice to have someone with me for a little while, so I didn't wallow too much.
But if she was leaving, instead of tea, I was going to have a stiff drink.
With that in mind, I made my way into the small kitchen, dominated by truly heinous green backsplashes and mismatching wooden doors on the cabinets which almost—but not quite—distracted you from the fact that the linoleum on the floor had been only partially replaced a decade or so before, leaving half of it dingy and faded, and half of it bright and new. All of it, however, was ugly, with its faux parquet that fooled exactly nobody.
We didn't keep much in the pantry at this house, seeing as we never knew how often we would be able to visit. When I opened the door, I found a few cans of tomato soup, sugar in an airtight container, beans, and what I was after. An entire shelf of hard liquor that, luckily, never went bad.