Page 68 of A Change of Location
“Plenty of money around here,” Hannah said. “New residential developments are springing up all over, for commuters to Portland who want to live near the country club and the golf courses.” She turned at a four-way intersection and accelerated up an incline. “This is Bear Knoll.”
At the summit stood a handsome multi-story house of faded red brick, appealingly antique. The Subaru stopped near the enormous red-painted wooden barn and a series of sheds, where the packed dirt drive ended.
A pair of yapping Shetland sheepdogs trotted round the corner of the house. A tri-color border collie raced ahead of them and added ear-piercing barks.
The woman who stepped out of the barn was small-boned like her daughter and graying brown hair framed a similarly shaped face. “That’s enough, dogs! Away!” The collie retreated but the Shelties tensely stood their ground.
“Mum, this is Isobel Latimer.”
“So very pleased to meet you. I’m Gwen. Neil’s sorry he’s not here to welcome you, but he’ll be back for an early supper. Once a week he has evening work hours—he’s a veterinarian—and tonight’s the night.”
“This is Martin,” Hannah said.
“The first nobleman to visit Bear Knoll.” Gwen slipped an arm around Hannah’s waist—they were exactly the same height. “We’ve missed you so much, sweetie. Come out of the sun, Isobel. I’ll have the tea ready in no time.”
Martin and Hannah carried the luggage from the car to the house. She led him up the narrow stairs. At one end of the long corridor were two spare rooms with a bathroom between. He chose the smaller one and placed his mother’s suitcase and carry-on in the other. When they returned to the ground floor, Hannah showed him a parlor furnished with Victorian-era chairs and marble-topped tables. The adjacent dining room had a coffered ceiling and a large wooden table with eight chairs.
“Do you want tea?” she asked.
“Something cold, if it’s available.”
She led him to the attractively and incongruously modern kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I could’ve told you without looking. Goat milk. Apple juice. Lemonade. Chardonnay.”
“Lemonade, please.”
They took their drinks to the screened porch overlooking an expanse of gardens. The two women were seated at a painted table, conversing as easily as though they’d been acquainted for years. Although Gwen retained her English accent, it wavered.
“Are there really bears here?” he asked when he could get a word in.
“Too many,” she replied. “And very active at this season. They seldom roam onto our property during daytime, mostly they come after dark. Before nightfall I take my bird feeders into the garden shed and lock the door. Although bears are a nuisance, they’re actually rather shy. And harmless, as long as you don’t get between a sow and her cubs.”
“Too bad we can’t arrange an on-demand sighting,” Hannah said. “Unless I take them to the transfer station at dusk. Otherwise known as the town dump. Near Scitterygusset Creek.”
“What a curious name,” Isobel marveled.
Neil Ballard arrived in a truck labeled with his vet practice logo on its doors. He was exceedingly tall—Martin had to look up to see his face—with a solid handshake and hazel eyes like Hannah’s. Whenever he looked at his daughter, his expression indicated that she was his pride and joy, and something of a mystery. Martin could relate.
The evening meal was served in the dining room. It consisted of salad made from home-grown lettuce and herbs, roast chicken, and freshly picked peas. The windows were kept open to catch the breeze flowing through mesh screens that kept out mosquitos and flies.
“Is this your family home?” Isobel asked their host.
“My folks were salt-breathers, living in Falmouth Foreside, next to the ocean,” Neil told her. “After Gwennie and I married, we found this place and put all the money we had into it. Lots of work had to wait till her American television series got popular. I doubt we could’ve made it livable if she hadn’t been so famous.”
“It’s charming.”
“I got grief from the family for moving inland from Ballard’s Landing, even though we’re barely two miles from the coast.” Nodding at his daughter, Neil added, “Punkin, your Grampa wants you to drop by.”
“I’ll go tomorrow.”
“Here’s the Hannah-Banana pudding!” Gwen carried in a crystal bowl topped with whipped cream. “That’s what my brother-in-law always calls it. Her favorite.”
“And his,” Hannah said in a strange voice.
“I’ll have mine later,” Neil said, and excused himself from the table. “Sorry to leave, folks, but my patients can’t wait.”
The trio of dogs trailed him to the kitchen as though expecting a handout.
Gwen cleared the table, with Hannah’s help, and they stowed the plates in the dishwasher. Isobel asked to see the renowned gardener’s gardens. They sprayed on insect repellent and went outside.
