“No. He needs proper exercise, needs to exercise the horses. I must work with him. He bursts with talent but he’s raw. He’s never run in a true race.”
“Yes, yes.” Ewing wrinkled his brow as John watched his wife maneuver her beloved father.
“You have an empty cabin at some distance from the weaving cabin. That’s a possibility.”
“Well, we can’t have Felicia”—Ewing exhaled—“causing a loss of concentration. I’ll ask Charles to look at the cabin. Is it tight? The boy would need wood. Does he know how to cook? It is quiet down there.”
“What a wonderful idea. I’m sure Charles is the right person to make certain it is suitable.”
Ewing said, almost as if to himself, “Nineteen and not a girl in sight.”
“Don’t you start,” Catherine chided him.
“I was just remembering being nineteen.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Yesterday. It seems like yesterday. I can recall the moment I saw your mother as though it were yesterday. I loved her the moment I saw her. Perhaps it will hit Jeddie that way, too.”
“Thank you, Father.” Catherine rose, leaned down, and kissed him. “Thank you for helping me with the horses, for helping Jeddie.”
Catherine and John left. Ewing, lost in memory for a time, did recall every detail when he first beheld Isabelle. He had returned from the Grand Tour, his father had some resources but Ewing wished to strike out on his own. A gala affair at Williamsburg, his best friend from college was getting married and he was invited. Who couldn’t have a good time in Williamsburg? There with the bridal party was a goddess, a true goddess. Isabelle, slender, hair in a modest becoming coiffure, somewhat loose around her face to frame it, glowing in a rose silk dress, ribbons woven into exquisite lace around her bodice. He was introduced to her by the groom’s family. He couldn’t speak. He stammered. She touched his forearm, remarking how dry the day was. A bit of punch would help. Music. Her cultivated voice was music. As he escorted her to the monstrously large silver punch bowl, he vowed he would win this woman if it took him years. She had beaus far more handsome than he, rich men, sons of rich men, military men, men fell all over themselves to court her. He listened to her. He listened with all his heart and he spoke from the heart. She fell in love with him. He wanted to know her, not possess her. She, young as she was, felt the difference. Loving Isabelle was the best decision he had ever made. He hoped it would happen to Jeddie. A man, slave or free, thrives with love, grows with love, becomes a better man.
Yes, he would see to the cabin.
14
January 10, 2017
Tuesday
“That spider isn’t coming out,” Tucker advised.
“Why would you want her to? She’s big. Let her be.” Mrs. Murphy’s whiskers swept forward.
“So I can chase her.”
“Ugh,” the tiger replied.
“Look, we chase mice and they’re bigger than this spider.” Pewter felt bold because, of course, the spider wasn’t coming out.
“Mice have four legs. Spiders have eight. Gross.”
Tucker, agreeing with Mrs. Murphy, said, “She does have a point, Pewter. Eight legs. Too many legs.”
Pewter edged just a little closer to the chink, squinted. She could see the spider in there. Seeing the cat so close, the spider lifted her two front legs, the long ones. Pewter backed up.
As the animals discussed the merits of chasing mammals versus insects versus spiders, the three people in Gary’s workroom hovered at the drafting table.
Tazio pointed to the corner fireplace in the drawings. “The big wood-burning fireplace has the far outside corner, the small propane fireplace sits in the corner near the bathroom, smart. You need the steady heat by your pipes. He thought of everything.”
“Propane isn’t cheap. Prices go up and down. I can cut my firewood. Storms bring down branches,” Harry stated.
Tazio came back. “The cost of filling the propane tank will vary. Let’s say, since you have a big tank, fewer trips out for Tiger Fuel.” She named a local company. “Eight hundred dollars. Will that last the entire winter? Who knows? We’ve had bitter long winters and surprisingly short ones, but for the sake of argument, let’s say your winter propane bill totals sixteen hundred dollars. That’s a small price for unfrozen pipes, a small price for you to walk into the work space, which will be reasonably warm. You build a fire in the traditional fireplace and soon enough you can remove your sweater, inhale the wonderful aroma of a wood fire. You’re being perverse. You have a propane stove in the tack room and you told me you have one in the bedroom. Just do it.”
“She’s right.” Cooper nodded.
“Well, okay.” Harry knew perfectly well Tazio was right, just as she had known Gary was right. “So will you take the drawings, turn them into blueprints? And I am happy to listen to ideas you might have in addition to Gary’s.”
Tazio smiled sadly. “He was a mentor to me. Whatever I might suggest would be or will be something small, perhaps something decorative. How he wanted to build you La Petite Trianon.”
The three, silent for a moment, heard the animals at the back entrance. Brinkley, quietly attending to Tazio, rose to investigate.
“What’s going on?”
“Brinkley.” Pewter’s voice carried excitement. “I have trapped in the chink the world’s biggest ground spider. We need to get National Geographic here.”
The yellow Lab laid flat down, nose to the floor. “I can kinda see her.”
That fast the spider popped out, waved her forelegs at the big dog, scooted back in. The dog wiggled backward, scared.