Four Rubbings

Chapter Eight: Josie Learns the Secret Ingredient

GRACE HAS THE GREEN DOOR to the cottage unlocked before we've managed to climb the porch steps. She clips the key ring onto her belt and works the copper knob. Mounting the porch, Seth eyes the line of shoes by the door and kicks off his dirt-caked DocMartens. Wordlessly, the rest of us add our shoes to the queue.

Grace props open the door with her body. "That's awfully thoughtful. Thanks."

The scent of cinnamon and warm apples rushes out to greet us. I soak it in and feel something close to calm, a settling of sorts somewhere deep inside. The cat pushes past me into the house.

"Can the cat come in?" I ask.

"Looks like he decided for himself,"Grace says.  A smile lights up her face and she transforms from plain into beautiful. "He wants to be right by your side, girl." She bends down and scratches the cat between his soft batty ears and he skitters out of reach. "I haven't seen him around here before. I wonder which stray had kittens?"

Gathering inside the doorjamb, we find ourselves standing in an airy blue kitchen. Small by today's standards, the kitchen feels cozy and inviting. The golden maple wood floor warms my dampstocking feet and I realize for the first time how cold I really am.

"It smells great in here!" Casey remarks.

Grace says, "That's mostly why I put the cider on. Makes the whole place smell like autumn. Now, who wants a cupful?"

We all raise our hands, as if we're in school.

"Well, then," says Grace. "Grab a seat in the front room. It's cozier there. I'll just be a minute behind."

Grace shoos the bunch of us toward an adjacent hallway lined with sepia-toned photographs in tarnished silver frames.

"Do you need any help?" Blaze asks.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you fetch that tray for me, Blaze?" Grace points to a high shelf above the stovetop.

I wander down the hallway and stare into the old pictures looking for what? Familiar faces? Then I watch Blaze and Grace work in the kitchen as if they've known each other for a long time.

Blaze fetches the oversized wooden tea tray and hands it to the woman.

"Thanks," says Grace. Setting down the tray, she opens a drawer and rifles through it until she finds a large soup ladle.

As she spoons cider into mismatched china teacups, Grace calls over her shoulder to us. "Oh, and please eat some of that Halloween candy! My waistline will thank you for it."

I follow a blue flowered runner into a buttery yellow living room. An inviting fire crackles inside a sooty hearth. Twooverstuffed gingham print sofas rest face to face in front of a stone fireplace. The coffee table between them is a faded, stocky wooden piece, adorned with a blue and white porcelain vase overstuffed with fragrant pink roses. I think of the rotten flowers on my mother's grave and cringe.

A crooked tower of books on one corner of the table is the only thing remotely messy about the comfortable room. Fuzzy yellowchenille blankets hang across the arms of both sofas. My mom would've loved this place.

Still feeling the chill of the night in my bones, I choose a seat closest to the fire, on the end of the sofa. The cat jumps to my lap, and then vaults onto the arm of the sofa. Kneading the soft blanket with his white tipped mitts, the cat settles down onto the perch for a nap. Seth and Blaze find seats across from me. Blaze looks awkward as he squeezes his tall frame onto the petite, flowery sofa.

Casey ducks into the adjoining entryway. On a tall table by the front door stands a crystal punch bowl filled to the brim with miniature candy bars. As she reaches for a handful, Grace steps into the front room.