“If I did have any, and if they were the right type, you forget my truck is all th’ way out there, on the far side of the road, lyin’ in a ditch, lady,” Dave reminded her pointedly.
“Well, then, what is the problem? We know it takes two and a half lengths of rope to get from the porch to the bed of your truck, and we have a flashlight to see our way there. Put on your snow boots, gentlemen!” Bella ordered them. “If there is a packet of spark plugs that will work in that truck, now is the time to go find them. Not five hours from now, when we are freezing in our beds. If you want the comfort of a warm home, you must exert yourselves to attain it—he who cuts his own wood is twice warmed, and all of that. Come along!”
Dave shot Steve a sardonic look. “Ever get the feeling she was a drill instructor in a former life?”
“I heard that!”
AT LEAST THE SNOW HADN’T PILED ANY DEEPER THAN THE bottoms of the ground-floor windows, though the wind still swirled it around like it was a full-blown blizzard. No one could tell if it actually was snowing from the clouds somewhere overhead, or if it was all ground drift. It also took a lot longer to get from the front porch to the truck and back, but at least breaking a trail through such deep drifts meant they had an easier time finding their way back. The sight of the mound that was Joey’s truck greeted them first, lit by the plying of two flashlights through the night. Once past the view-blocking mound, they could see the glow of candlelight in the front window, and the figures of Rachel and the others waiting to open the door for them.
Dave was still muttering to himself as he started stripping off his down jacket inside the foyer, letting Steve hang it on the coat rack by the front door. “I don’t believe it…I just don’t believe it…”
“Don’t believe what?” Joey asked his friend, watching the other two removing their gear as well.
“We got there, I climbed down inside, and I immediately found a pack of four spark plugs that can fit the generator, a ten-dollar bill, a rolled-up pair of sweat socks, that old road map I’ve been looking for, and a weenie whistle,” he told his redheaded friend, wrinkling his nose. “A weenie whistle? You know, one of them hotdog-shaped plastic things?” From the blank look on Joey and Pete’s faces, reflected in the light of the votives they were holding, they didn’t know what he was talking about. “Ah…never mind. The point is, we got what we need.”
“What’s wrong with finding a weenie whistle?” Bella asked him, her accent muffled by the way she had bent over to tug off her snow boots.
“I have never in my life owned a weenie whistle, that’s what!” Dave retorted. “I tell you, there’s somethin’ weird goin’ on.”
“What’s weird about finding what you need when you need it?” Mike asked, his dark skin blending him into the doorway of the front parlor.
“Yeah,” Cassie agreed, her blond curls very visible next to his shoulder as she leaned past her friend. “’Tis the season for miracles, and all that!”
“Well, maybe it dropped outta someone’s pocket when they were ridin’ with you,” Pete offered. “Dad found a one-dollar coin from Canada in his car about three years after he bought it from his cousin, who had gone up North a couple years before that.”
Grunting, unable to deny the logic of that possibility, Dave followed Steve back to the lean-to and the waiting generator. Both men groaned, then grumbled, realizing they had to shrug back into their jackets, given the breath-frosting chill in the mudroom; the lean-to was achingly cold in comparison, making their coats a necessity even for such a short task. Once the plugs were installed and the cover resecured, it was simply a matter of pushing a few buttons, pulling on the lever, and starting up the generator. Pleased with their efforts, the two males slapped hands in a high five, shed their things in the mudroom, and returned to the front room, where the others had gathered.
“Just to let you know,” Rachel was cautioning the others, “we cannot run a lot of electricity off that generator, and it only has so much fuel, anyway. It’s only good for a few lights at a time, for the heater out in the barn, and for the furnace and hot water tanks. And when it’s milking time, the dairy gets priority on the electricity, so there’ll be a ban on using it from five to six in the morning, and from three to four in the afternoon. So if you leave a room, turn off the lights behind you if you’re the last one out of there…and enjoy a nice long snuggle under the covers in the mornings.”
“Reading by candlelight can be cozy,” Cassie offered, cheerful as ever. She had brought out her tangle of bright orange yarn again, and was busy crocheting away on something smallish. “And Mike’s little box game is fun, and doesn’t require a lot of bright light. We can keep doing some of that to conserve power in the afternoons.”
“Is she always this cheerful?” Pete asked Bella.
“Yes. You get used to it after a while.”
“A long while,” Mike added dryly. Cassie only laughed and continued playing with her yarn.
“Well,” Rachel stated. “Now that everyone is back, and we have a bit of power for lights, I’m going to bring out the apple crumble I baked earlier. And some of our famous Bethel Inn cheese from the curing cupboards down in the basement. We can heat the crumble on the woodstove here and serve it piping hot, if you’re willing to wait a few minutes. Does that sound good?”
“That, and some of that magnificent spiced cider of yours sounds delicious,” Mike praised, voicing the enthusiasm of the others, who were all nodding.
“Then I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t take long for Rachel to bring out the casserole pan with the apple crumble, nor to set it on the woodstove to heat. Heading down into the basement, she entered the room where the cheese was made and turned to the curing cupboards. The sweetness of the apple crumble would be best offset with a sharp flavor, so she turned toward the cupboards holding the rounds that had aged the longest.
It was very chilly down there, colder than expected. So cold that her breath frosted almost as badly as if she had stepped outside. That meant when Rachel heard a ting-ting followed by a crack and a pshhhhhhh off in the distance, she guessed instantly what had happened. Dismayed, she abandoned the cheese room, hurrying through the other rooms comprising the basement.
The busted pipe was in the laundry room, of course. It sprayed water down from one of the pipes crossing the ceiling. There was a drain pipe in the tiled floor, but with the ground ice-cold under all that snow, it would soon freeze and clog up. Biting back a curse, Rachel hurried for the stairs.
She couldn’t shut off the water, since if it stopped flowing, it would freeze that much faster elsewhere in the house. Once Joey was ready to work, then it could be shut off. She couldn’t even put a space heater into the room to keep the other pipes in there from freezing until the water was cleared up, and not just because of the electricity hazard. Space heaters drained a sizable chunk of the generator’s power; it would be better to just let the furnace do its work.
“Joey? Joey!” She found him headed her way in the front hall, trailed by the others. “You brought your work truck, right?”
“Yeah, I did,” he agreed, jerking his thumb at the front door behind him. “It’s not ten feet from th’ porch, buried under all that snow.”
“Well, unbury it as fast as you can and get your toolbox,” Rachel ordered him tightly. “The blizzard just busted a pipe in the laundry room, and since you’re here, I need you to fix it.”