Part 10
Beth slid both keys into the envelope for the closing. She wrote the address across the front, pressed the flap down, and rubbed her thumb over a place where the glue hadn’t caught. Vera found a piece of tape in the drawer and handed it to her.
The drawer was supposed to be empty. They looked at each other, then both began to laugh, quietly at first and then long enough that Beth had to put down the envelope. After weeks of packing, there was still one small job left in the house.
Vera took out the tape and a handful of rubber bands. Beth checked behind the drawer and found a birthday candle, bent almost flat. Neither sister tried to work out whose birthday it had belonged to.
They sat on the kitchen floor to finish their coffee because the chairs were already gone. Through the window, the yard looked too large without the service truck. Beth had parked in its old space, leaving her car at a slight angle across the worn gravel.
“I can take your box home today,” Beth said.
Vera had put David’s jacket in the room she was renting. The box for her sister held photographs and a few things from their father’s house she couldn’t decide about yet. She nodded and gave Beth the key to the room so she could collect it while Vera went to check the cattle.
Beth turned the unfamiliar little key over in her hand. “I’ll leave it on the dresser.”
“There’s only the one dresser. You won’t miss it.”
They finished the coffee and stood up slowly, helping each other with a hand at the elbow. Vera carried the empty cups to Beth’s car. She locked the farmhouse door for the last time that afternoon and put the final key with the others.
The sale closed on Friday as agreed. The bills were paid, Beth’s advances were repaid, and Vera received the modest remainder they had expected. She used part of it for the next month’s room and left the rest available instead of assigning it immediately to another repair she wanted to make.
That night she hung her work coat beside David’s jacket. The closet door wouldn’t shut unless she turned the hangers sideways, and the radiator made a knocking sound after ten. She lay awake listening to it for a while, then set an inspection reminder for daylight and let it knock.
Six weeks later, a light snow lay in the ruts along Edith’s lane. Vera arrived for the morning cattle check with a flashlight and a scarf Beth had found in their father’s donation box. She had meant to buy a better one, but this one covered the gap at her collar, so she kept wearing it.
Clover lifted her head as Vera entered the covered aisle. Her coat looked better, and the improvement was gradual enough that Vera noticed it most when she looked back at the first clinic photographs. Otis had become a sturdy, impatient calf whose idea of helping was putting his nose wherever a person needed to work.
Vera kept the gate between them while she prepared the feed. The veterinarian’s instructions had changed as both animals changed, and their next visit was already on the calendar. The shelter that had seemed large in October now looked exactly the size it was, a place she would have to keep assessing.
She finished the water check and recorded what she’d seen. The evening line had Jess’s name on it. Vera read it once and put the sheet back into its cover without adding a second set of instructions.
The two-week work trial had become another month, then a further month by agreement. They still reviewed the route before accepting it.
Some callers waited for their next route day; some found somebody else. There had been one quiet week when the totals barely covered the work costs. Vera had gone through the figures with Jess that Friday, and they had decided together which day to leave open the following week.
The rented potting room smelled faintly of old soil beneath the cleaner they used on the bench. Vera kept the larger tools in locked cases along one wall and the smaller ones in trays they could lift straight into the van. Jess had made a loading list, then crossed out the things Vera insisted on carrying that they never used.
That morning, a caller wanted a mixer collected immediately. Vera looked at the machine’s photograph and asked for the model plate and a description of the problem. She offered an inspection appointment before discussing a repair deadline, then waited while the man decided whether that worked for him.
He wanted a guarantee she couldn’t give. When the call ended, she wrote nothing into the empty space on Friday’s route. She went back to checking the parts for the jobs they had actually booked.
Jess arrived carrying two coffees. The bicycle bell on her key ring gave a thin ring when she set it beside the loading list; Naomi had decided it sounded better there and put a different one on her bicycle. Jess handed Vera the cup without asking whether she wanted it.
They loaded the van from the list. Vera checked the bench for forgotten tools while Jess secured the load.
Before they left, Edith came out with a note about the shelter gate dragging after the cold night. Vera went to look, marked the adjustment for that afternoon, and checked that the latch still secured properly. She didn’t begin a repair that would make them late for the first customer.
Clover was eating beneath the roof. Otis stood close to her, his ears turned toward the people at the gate. Vera watched him lower his head to the hay beside his mother’s, then walked back to the van while Jess checked the weather on her phone.
The passenger seat was clear except for Vera’s atlas. Jess had found it among the portable cases and put it there because Vera liked seeing the roads spread out. There were pencil notes along the margins, in two different hands, and room for more on the blank edges.
Vera sat down, fastened her seat belt, and fitted her tool list into the door pocket. At the end of Edith’s lane, Jess waited for a milk truck to pass before pulling onto the road. The van rose over the uneven pavement, and Vera steadied the warm coffee with both hands.