“Maybe it won’t take as long as you think,” Caroline said.
But the garbage in the basement took up rooms and rooms of space. Much of it had been there before Ben had added to it with the junk from the rest of the house. He was sure that Caroline had no idea how much was down there.
“You’re probably right.”
“I can help you, Dad,” Charlie told him.
“Thank you, buddy,” he said. It was rare for Charlie to volunteer for indoor work on a sunny day when the forests and fields waited just beyond the door. Ben saw that today could still be a good day, and that was enough to buoy him. He pulled the boy out of his chair and onto his lap. Charlie was too big for this, but this morning he let Ben get away with it. His hair was dark and thick like Ben’s.
Caroline picked Bub out of his chair and wet a napkin with her tongue to scrub the cherry juice from his face. Bub’s hair was blond and fine like his mother’s.
“What books did you order?” Caroline asked.
“A couple that people have been talking about, and a few more that sounded interesting.”
“Do you have an idea?”
She was asking about his next book. Ben enjoyed how mysterious his process seemed to Caroline. To her analytical mind, this whole part of his life was opaque.
“An idea,” he said. He drew his fork through the syrup to see the glistening script it left behind. “But not much more than that.”
The truth was that he’d written a good hundred fifty pages of what he’d thought would be his third book, but the novel had soured on him since he’d moved up here. It was a problem he couldn’t account for. His last literary thriller had been a success, and he’d begun this next project with an abundance of confidence, but it had somehow fallen apart. It was as if the gravity had dissipated at the core of the thing, and the pieces had drifted apart. He was just beginning to admit to himself that it had all been a terrific waste.
He looked up to smile at her. “If it turns into anything, I’ll let you know.” Charlie stirred restlessly on his lap. “This one’s had too much sugar to sit still,” Ben said.
“Best thing to do with energy is to put it to work,” Caroline said.
Ben moved Charlie back to his chair and stood up. “Help Mom clean up here, okay, buddy?”
“Where are you going?” Caroline asked.
“Hudson found a dead raccoon,” Ben said. “Made a mess of himself. I have to wash him off and I want to bury the thing so he doesn’t get into it again.”
“Can I see?” Charlie asked.
“It’s really stinky, Charlie.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Help Mom with the dishes, and I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t come back stinky,” Caroline said.
Ben was halfway out the door when he turned around. “And I saw more bear tracks by the lake, so if you guys go outside, make sure to bring a whistle.” He’d read on the Internet that bears were afraid of loud noises. He’d bought a set of whistles for that purpose.
“It would be cool to see one, wouldn’t it, Dad?”
Ben thought about the eviscerated deer, about the long red streaks that had been drawn over the ground with its insides.
“No, buddy. I don’t think so.”
—
He hosed Hudson off in the shed. As the beagle shook himself dry, Ben stood out of range to listen to the lawyer’s voice mail. The saga of his grandmother’s estate had gone on for months longer than he’d expected. The meager price they’d gotten for her tiny house in New Jersey, a few thousand dollars in savings, and a tract of virtually worthless land attached to a derelict farmhouse here in Swannhaven were the extent of the estate’s assets. Neither Ben nor his brother, Ted, had known that Grams owned land up here—land inherited from her own parents, Ben assumed. But it was on a trip to see this old farmstead that he’d learned the vast house between the mountains was for sale. It was then that the notion of an escape from the city had been born.
Caroline handled their finances, but at the time of Grams’s death, Ben hadn’t wanted to put any further stress on her. Such matters were beyond his expertise, but his grandmother’s legacy barely amounted to six digits, and Ben had expected it would be a simple matter to deal with the estate. In this, he’d been wrong. There were times when he thought that the lawyer was taking him for a ride, eking out every possible penny, one billable hour at a time. Other times Ben thought this was just another example of how their luck had suddenly soured.
According to the voice mail, Ben’s mother was the newest problem. While Grams had bequeathed her daughter a few thousand dollars, she’d split the majority of her assets between her two grandsons. All Ben’s mother had to do was sign a few documents to receive the behest, but these signatures had proved elusive. Which could only mean she wanted something more.
Over the last decade, Ben had made it a personal mission to indulge the woman as little as possible. As with all addicts, her needs were an abyss that only deepened with each shovelful of good intentions you tossed in. But every phone call and certified letter the lawyer wasted in prodding her cost money. As Ben deleted the voice mail, he knew he would have to call her himself, despite the fact that this was surely exactly what she wanted.
“Clean again, but how long will it last, Hud?” he said once the dog finished shaking himself dry. Ben stooped to rub the beagle’s head and got a lick to his face.
After he dropped Hudson just inside the kitchen door, Ben returned to the shed for a shovel. With it hoisted over his shoulder, he made his way to the ruined building off the drive.