“That it is.” He drops his trowel, grabs the lemonade, and takes a sip, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s good.”
I know it’s good. My homemade lemonade is famous in these parts. Last year, the school practically begged me to run a stall at the fund-raiser, and I was told it was the most lucrative stall of the day.
This year Romy and Andrea were running an orange-juice stand.
“It’s a favorite recipe of mine,” I say.
Angus takes another sip. “So who taught you about cooking, then?”
“I was self-taught before the cookery school,” I say. “I became interested in flavors in high school, I guess. Were you always interested in plants?”
I wait as he drains his glass. “Nope. I wanted to be a professional football player.”
“You did?”
“Didn’t every guy?” He laughs. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t any good at football.”
Now I laugh.
“Eh, a guy’s gotta dream,” he says. “My grandmother loved gardening, though. I practically grew up in her garden. When I realized the football thing wasn’t going to work out, I thought … there are worse things than spending your life in the garden. As Grandma says, now I’ll never stop smelling the roses.”
Automatically, I glance over at the roses. They are pink and white, climbing up a trellis on one side of the house. “Except in winter,” I point out. “You won’t smell them then.”
Angus gives me a searching look.
“I just mean,” I say, “that nothing lasts forever.”
He holds his glass out to me. “Some things last forever, don’t they?”
I look over at Anna and Luke. “Honestly?” I say. “I have no idea.”
*
That night, after I’ve cleaned up dinner, I head to the store to pick up ingredients for May’s birthday cake. By the time I make it back to Rosalind House, most of the residents are in their rooms and the place is low-lit and quiet.
It’s strange being at Rosalind House at night. Usually, the place is bustling and alive. Now, apart from the bubble and swoosh of the dishwasher, it’s dead silent, which is vaguely unnerving.
Mother is watching Clem at our apartment and I call to say goodnight around 8 P.M. An hour later I’m grating lemon rind into my cream cheese frosting when a woman’s scream pierces the silent air. I drop my spatula and follow the noise to Anna’s door.
“Eve?”
Rosie appears beside me and I am flooded with relief. “I … I heard the screaming,” I say.
“Pretty hard not to.” She smiles, resigned. “I’ll look after her, don’t worry.”
As Rosie reaches for the lock, I’m struck by how unruffled she is. Unsurprised. Then I remember Eric’s words. “Sometimes they become upset at night.” I’d pictured sleeplessness. Nightmares, perhaps. Not this.
Rosie steps into the room, and instinctively, I shadow her. We find Anna sitting up in bed. Her blankets are kicked off and hair is wild around her face.
“What’s going on, Anna?” Rosie asks. “You sound upset. Can I help?”
“I want to go home!” Anna’s voice is a razor, intended to hurt. “Take me home.”
“Why don’t I turn on this light?” Rosie advances slowly but confidently. “Help you see a bit better.”
“No!” Anna shouts. “Where is he?”
A tingle runs down my spine.
“Is there someone we can help you find?” Rosie asks.
Anna nods. “Yes. Him.” Then her face starts to crumple. “I … want to go home.”
“All right,” Rosie says cheerfully. “I’ll take you home. But it’s pretty late for driving right now. How about a cup of tea first? Then, when it’s light, you and me will hop in the car? Sound good?”
Anna watches Rosie carefully. “Is Jack at home? And Mom?”
“Everyone’s there,” Rosie says. “But it’s nighttime; they’re probably fast asleep. We don’t want to wake them.”
“Okay,” Anna says, a little suspicious. “But in the morning, you’ll take me home?”
“Absolutely.”
Rosie’s voice is so soothing that I almost believe her. Except for the fact that Eric told me Anna’s mom was dead.
“Would you mind making us some tea, Eve?” Rosie says. “Anna likes peppermint and I’ll have chamomile. And would you mind checking that the other residents are still asleep? I’m going to stay here with Anna for a bit.” She produces a tissue and discreetly wipes Anna’s nose.
I nod. “Yes. I’ll do it now.”
I listen at the doors of the other residents, and miraculously, all I hear is snoring. They’ve all slept through it. Something to be said for poor hearing. The place is quiet, peaceful. All except for Anna.
“Everyone’s sleeping,” I say when I return with the tea. Rosie is sitting next to Anna on her bed, giving her a hand massage. I set the tray on the table.
“Thanks,” Rosie says. “Anna and I are going to hang out for a while. I love watching the late-night infomercials, and now I’ll have company.”
“Would you—?” I start, then wonder if it’s going to sound strange or presumptuous. “Would you like some more company? My cake is just out of the oven and it needs to cool a little before I ice it.”