Bab 8: Cherry Season (May - June) Part 8
"Oh, wonderful!" Lisa exclaimed. "Cherries are on the way out already. Carol, this is Fabian ...." she paused, realizing that she didn't know Fabian's last name.
"DiSanti," Fabian supplied, extending his hand to Carol, who smiled and shook it.
"I remember you," she said. "You were here when you were about ten."
"So I've heard. I wish I could remember. The rheumatic fever did a number on my memory. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Carol said. "You were a cute little guy. And so brave! Uh, oh -- I hear kid trouble. Better go referee. Nice seeing you!" She started across the front yard.
"Carol! How much?" Lisa called after her.
"We'll settle up later, Scooter," Carol threw over her shoulder as she went into the house. Fabian took the basket from Lisa to carry for her. Lisa continued to walk Bruiser. Not far from the rectory was a stone bridge in a perfect arch over a stream. Lisa gestured to the bridge.
"This is the road that leads to where I live and then to the farms," she said. Then she indicated the road ahead. "If you go straight here, you'll go around past the east mill and eventually wind up at the carnival. A lot shorter than going back through town."
"Thank you. This is a beautiful bridge."
"It's one of my favorite things," she said. "The stone was left over from the church and the rectory, as I recall from my local history."
"You're the tour guide," Fabian smiled back.
I don't know why she doesn't live in the house. I'm sure Thelma keeps tabs on her coming and going no matter what. Then again, I doubt her grandmother would appreciate a roommate.
The mailbox by the road said "Hornberger", and the driveway led past a red brick Dutch colonial house. There was a very large garden that Fabian could see on the property beyond the house, and beyond the garden was a large, well-kept orchard. Lisa led him on up the driveway to a red brick two-car garage. The structure was considerably wider than just two garage bays, and a set of stairs went up to a deck next to what would be a second floor. Next to the garage was a small chicken house with a run full of beautiful black and white birds that looked almost like they had stripes.
"What kind of chickens are those?" he wanted to know. "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like that."
"Those are Barred Plymouth Rocks," she said. "We always had Rhode Island Reds on our farm, but Grandma prefers these. I like both, really. Both are dual purpose birds -- they're good layers and also good for eating. And they make good pets."
"Do they have names?"
Lisa smiled mischievously.
"Some do; most don't. It's not good to have too personal a relationship with something that might wind up as dinner. I don't just fill pies with fruit." She winked at him.
"Do you live in the house?" he asked, looking across the driveway.
"No -- I live above the garage," she told him. She waved her hand to the stairs going up to the deck, but didn't go up the stairs. Instead, she led him to a door to the garage underneath the stairs.
"Now I'm confused," he said. "Where do you live?"
Lisa laughed and opened the door.
"Would you mind not bringing Bruiser in here?" she asked. "I'm sorry -- I can't let him in here."
Fabian tied Bruiser's leash to the stairs and told him to stay. Bruiser stretched out in the shady grass under the steps and panted happily. Lisa led Fabian through the door and to his surprise, he found himself in a very tidy kitchen with a large refrigerator, two ovens, a stove, a sink, and lots of counter space. There were two windows -- one facing east and one facing south. There were a few pictures on the walls -- mostly of chickens. The tea towels at the sink also had chickens on them. The kitchen smelled wonderful.
"I live upstairs and there's a kitchen up there, too," Lisa said, putting the basket of berries her sister had provided on the counter. "This whole property is my grandma's place. She still lives over in the house. My grandfather had a workshop out here. When I started getting orders from the diner and other places for pies, it got a little overwhelming in my upstairs kitchen. My grandma offered hers at first, but I didn't want to do that. I tend to bake at odd hours and I didn't want to be going in and out of her house all the time. So we decided to turn the workshop into a kitchen just for my pies. That's why I can't let Bruiser in here."
"I understand," he said. "It would be like taking him into the kitchen at the diner."
"Precisely." She took an egg carton from one of the cupboards and opened the refrigerator. "How many eggs would you like?" she asked.
"Four would be fine."
She raised an eyebrow at him; it fascinated him that she could raise just one.
"Fabian," she said, "I have plenty of eggs. My chickens lay more every day. I can spare them. Would you like a dozen?"
"Do you sell them?"
"I will throw them at you in a minute."
He laughed. The mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes made her more beautiful than ever.
"All right," he said. "A dozen it is."
"They're fresh -- I gathered them this morning." He held the carton while she placed eggs in it. The eggs were various shades of brown and some had speckles on them. He stared at them -- he had seen eggs like this before.
"Fabian? Are you all right?"
He shook himself.
"Yes. Fine. Sorry."
"You do have a refrigerator, right? I'm not clear on how you're all living over there at the carnival."
He nodded.
"We're all camping in a variety of ways," he said, "but almost all of us is either on a generator or plugged in to the town's grid."
"I have some things from the garden, if you're interested."
"Like what? I'll eat anything that won't eat me."
"I have some spinach, some lettuce, and some peas. I also have some carrots that wintered over from last year. Grandma and I always grow more than we need."
"Don't you sell this stuff at the market stand?" he asked.
"Sometimes. If they need it, which they don't right now. Once the tourists start coming they ask for some stuff from us and I sell some of my eggs there, but they don't need me yet."
"Thank you for all of this, Lisa," he said as she handed him a large bag filled with produce with his eggs on top. "And thank you for letting me walk you home."
"Thank you both for walking me home," she said, walking him to the door of the kitchen. "I really enjoyed it."
"Can we do this again?"
"I'd like that." Lisa blushed with a shy smile.
"What time are you finished tomorrow?"
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