“Mm-hmm.” Jessie shakes her head. “The whole of the East Side was at the funeral. All the flags lowered for a month and everything. And all of this after those kids grew up without a mother.”
My head is spinning a little. How did I sit with him all evening and never hear anything about that?
“He said something about his mother last night.”
“Died on her way home from the hospital,” Jessie says, placing her hand over her heart. “That family is full of all the tragedies money can’t fix.”
“They have a lot of money, huh?”
“Most all of it, I think.” Jessie laughs.
“So, what do they actually do?” I ask. “I mean, I see they do a lot of charity work, and I know he owns that club, but what is the family business?”
“Oh, you know…” Jessie trails off as she puts the milk thistle bottle back on the shelf and then begins to rearrange all the bottles beside it. “Real estate, maple syrup…a lot of stuff. I don’t gossip about such things.”
“Their business is gossip?”
“It’s always best not to talk about other people,” Jessie says. “I might babble, but I don’t gossip. Did you know that there is a gossiping club over on the West Side? Those people!”
“They have a club that actually calls itself that?”
“They say it’s a book club,” she says, “but everyone knows what it’s really for. I’m pretty sure half of them haven’t read a book in years!”
I consider telling her that a lot of “book clubs” have nothing to do with books—or gossip—but I don’t want to be rude.
“I should probably get going,” I say instead.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Here you are taking time out to help me, and I’m keeping you from the day with all my yammering! You have yourself a wonderful hike.”
“Thank you! I’m sure I will.”
I step back into the hallway, and as I’m about to head outside, Jessie calls to me.
“Cherry, hunny?”
“Yes?” I tilt my head, wondering why she looks so pensive.
“I’m not your mom,” she says, looking down at her hands, “and I’d never tell you who to hang out with or how to run your life, but…”
“But?”
“Just be careful, hunny. You’re like a babe in the woods, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Chapter 8—Maples
I leave my phone in the car, not wanting to chance any sort of disturbance. I need a little time to just be by myself and do a little communing with nature. Though it’s a Sunday, very few people seem out and about as I walk to the trailhead and start the trek up a steep hill.
The trees are beautiful.
The trail is well-maintained with short logs embedded into the path, allowing me to keep my footing a little easier as I head uphill and deeper into the forest. At the top of the hill, the trail splits. A small wooden post displays the length of the trail in either direction, and I choose the longer option.
For a while, I don’t think of anything at all. I absorb the cool, moist air through my skin and lungs, feel the earth beneath my feet, and listen to the crackling of dry leaves. Looking around, I see a few squirrels and birds but nothing any larger than those. I do see evidence of white-tailed deer and coyotes in the area, but they camouflage well and are hard to see.
“Aunt Ginny would have loved it here,” I murmur.
I feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. It’s not that I haven’t thought about Aunt Ginny, but I have avoided thinking about losing her. My chest tightens, and I swallow past the lump forming in my throat, but I can’t stop the tears from falling.
I haven’t cried since my first day here. I guess I’m overdue.