The Cottage on Juniper Ridge Page 11

  Muriel Sterling, the queen of simplicity, was going to be coming to her house? Stacy looked around the room, trying to see it through Muriel’s eyes. The Christmas decorations were all stowed away but she’d managed to fill most of the empty spaces in her living and dining rooms. The mantel clock was back on the mantel, along with her hurricane lamps filled with candles, and so were the Hummel figurines her grandma had given her. The pile of books was back on the coffee table, the buffet bloomed with a vase of silk hydrangeas on one side, while the other side was occupied by her great-grandma’s chocolate set, a candy dish and a cute little teacup she’d gotten from a favorite aunt. It had a crack so it wasn’t good for anything but sitting around looking pretty, which it did quite nicely on the buffet. The pictures had been returned to the walls, as well as the quilted hanging she’d finished the year before last, and the dining room table had a new centerpiece, a fat candle shaped like a champagne bottle in an ice bucket, which she always put out for the month of January.

  Was it all too much? What constituted too much? She looked at the pile of junk mail and coupons keeping her centerpiece company on the dining table, thought of the bags of post-Christmas bargains she’d already accumulated that were hidden away in the closet in Ethan’s old room, thought of the drawer full of kitchen gadgets she never used. The latest had been a small plastic container with a pump lid, which had promised to make whipping cream a snap. The only snapping had been in her shoulder muscles as she worked the stupid thing up and down in an attempt to get it to do what it promised. Why had she kept that? Why had she kept half the stuff in that drawer?

  “So, we’ll have both Muriel and Jen, who’s already put what Muriel wrote into practice,” Juliet was saying. “That should be really inspiring.”

  Or depressing, Stacy reflected. “It should be,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Jon should be waking up from his nap. I’d better go,” Juliet said. “See you tomorrow. This is going to be one of our best book club meetings yet!”

  It was certainly proving to be an interesting meeting, Stacy thought the following evening as the assembled group listened to Muriel Sterling talk about her life and what had prompted her to write the book. She was an attractive woman, with a curvy figure, a round face and chestnut hair cut in a layered bob—the kind of woman whose age was hard to determine. Judging by her daughter Cecily’s age, Stacy figured she had to be at least sixty. I hope I look that good at her age, Stacy thought. Heck, she’d like to look that good now.

  All the Sterling women were beautiful, and Muriel’s daughter Cecily was the prettiest of all. She had two different men in town interested in her, but so far she hadn’t started dating either of them. She sat next to her mother, beaming with pride as Muriel talked.

  “After I lost Waldo I wanted to hang on to everything we’d had,” Muriel was saying. “But the problem was, I couldn’t afford to. I couldn’t afford to keep that house, and when I found myself moving to a smaller place I knew I didn’t have room for all my stuff. It was hard to decide what to keep and what to let go of. I don’t think I was unique in that. I think many of us have trouble parting with things. Madison Avenue has been telling us for years that we need material possessions to make us happy. So we hang on to things even when all they do is weigh us down. We wrap our memories so tightly around our possessions that we start thinking they’re one and the same. But I’ve come to realize they’re not.”

  Stacy squirmed in her seat. Why was Muriel looking at her? Was it warm in here?

  “We often have that same problem in other areas of our lives,” Muriel continued. “We hang on to unrealistic expectations of what we should be as women and that leaves us overcommitted and stressed. We stay in relationships we shouldn’t or try to put together something that’s broken beyond repair.”

  “Guilty,” Charley piped up, and everyone smiled.

  “We don’t always want to move forward,” Muriel said. “I didn’t. I wanted to stay in the past but my circumstances forced me to make a new life, forced me to get rid of a lot of things I thought I needed.”

  “Like what?” asked Chita.

  Muriel shrugged. “Knickknacks, kitchen items I rarely used, videotapes, clothes that no longer fit, books I hadn’t enjoyed, gifts I was keeping only because someone gave them to me, extra dishes that wouldn’t fit in my smaller house. It was a big step for me and a little traumatic at the time. But I’m glad I did it. My life is so easy now, so simple.” She smiled at Jen, whom she’d been introduced to when she first arrived. “And I’m really happy to meet someone else who’s taken that step.”

  “I still can’t believe you did that,” Juliet said to Jen. “To move someplace where you didn’t know anyone.” She shook her head in astonishment.

  “Yeah, but this is such a friendly town. Look how you’ve all reached out to me,” Jen said. “By the way, thanks for letting me come to your book club. And thanks for giving me a ride,” she added, smiling at Juliet.

  “I was happy to. Anyway, I think you’re a great fit. You’re welcome to join us if you want,” Juliet told her. “Right, guys?”

  “Absolutely,” Charley said, and the others echoed her agreement.

  “Thanks. I’d like that,” Jen said.

  “I didn’t get a chance to find out when we were talking earlier. What made you drop everything and move?” Chita asked Jen.

  “Muriel’s book.” Jen smiled at their guest author. “My sister gave it to me. I was working two jobs to pay off all my stuff, and I hated my life. I didn’t have time for my friends or my family. I had a great condo but I couldn’t really afford it and I was never there, anyway. I’m only renting here but I don’t mind. I’m not stressed or grumpy anymore. Muriel’s right. Having less is more.”

  “And the more you have, the more you have to take care of,” Muriel pointed out. “I can clean my whole house in an hour, and that includes dusting.”

  It took Stacy an hour just to dust everything. Hmm.

  “The less time I spend cleaning, the more I have for my family and friends. I call that a good trade-off,” Muriel finished.

  “Well, I’m all for simplifying my life,” Juliet said. “Anybody else?”

  “I could go for that,” Cass began. “I think what needs to change most is my schedule. I’m tired of being tired, and I’m ready to give myself a little more time off. Maybe I’ll hire someone to come into the bakery a couple days a week so I can stay home.”

  “I could help you with that,” Jen said quickly.

  “Yeah? Let’s talk later,” Cass suggested.

  “I wish I could take a few days off,” Charley said. “Maybe then I’d actually have time to plan my wedding. By the way, we bagged the idea of getting married on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Seriously? But that was what you really wanted,” Cecily said.

  “I know, but I can’t pull it together. Not with running the restaurant and learning how to be a stepmom. We’ll do June instead.”

  “Well, that’ll definitely give you more time,” Cecily said.

  “I hope so. There’s still so much to do, I’ll be lucky if I’m ready by then. My simple wedding keeps getting more complicated. The guest list has doubled and so has my to-do list, thanks to my mom, who keeps thinking up things we just have to have. At the rate we’re going, this thing is going to put the Kardashians to shame. I guess I’ll have to wait until after I’m married to simplify my life.”

  “With a restaurant, a new husband and stepkids? Good luck with that,” Cass said.

  Charley gave a dramatic shudder. “Stop, you’re scaring me.” She turned to Chita. “How about you, Chita? How would you simplify your life?”

  “I don’t know. I need to think of something because I’m tired all the time. But what can I do? I’ve got to work. I’ve got to take care of my kids.”

  “A
re you doing any volunteer work?” Muriel asked.

  Chita shook her head. “Leading Anna’s Girls of America group. That’s all.”

  “You’re the only one leading the group?” Muriel probed.

  Chita frowned. “I have to. No one else volunteered.”

  Muriel nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

  “So you’re doing it all and none of the other moms help? There’s something wrong with that picture,” Charley said.

  Chita raised her shoulders. “That’s how it is.”

  “That’s not how it should be. You should quit,” Charley told her.

  Chita looked shocked. “I can’t. The group will fold.”

  “Do you enjoy leading it?” Muriel asked.

  Chita frowned again. “No. It’s just one more thing to do. And some of those girls are spoiled brats.”

  “Hmm,” Charley said, “so you’re working your butt off to host a bunch of spoiled brats. Wow, sign me up for that.”

  “It’s a lot of work to keep kids in your daughter’s life who may not be the best friends for her,” Stacy added. “Sounds like a pretty easy decision to me.” Oh, she was good at fixing someone else’s life.

  “You could have a point there,” Chita murmured. “That would free up one evening a week.”

  “What would you do with one free evening a week?” Muriel asked.

  Chita smiled dreamily. “I would sit on my couch and watch all those shows I record but never have a chance to watch.” Then she shook her head. “But that’s selfish.”

  “No, that’s charging your batteries,” Muriel said. “We women take care of everyone else and then forget to take care of ourselves. Perhaps having one evening a week to relax will give you the energy you need to keep going the rest of the week.”

  “And who knows?” Charley added. “If you turn in your leader badge, maybe someone else will step up and take over.”

  “That’ll never happen.” Chita sighed. “But unloading that commitment sure is tempting. Something’s gotta change.”

  “It’s a new year. Good time to make changes,” Cass said.

  “Hey, since it’s January, what do you guys think about us all coming up with ways to simplify our lives?” Juliet asked. “Then next month we can all share what we decided on.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Cass said.

  “Me, too,” Chita seconded.

  Cecily shrugged. “I simplified my life when I moved up here from L.A., but I’ll be happy to give the rest of you moral support.”

  “What about you, Stacy?” Cass asked.

  “Me?”

  “You want to get simple with the rest of us?” Cass was smiling now. It was just a friendly invitation. Why did it feel like a challenge?

  “Gosh, I’m not sure what I need to simplify.” Was everyone looking around at all her things, judging her, figuring she should lighten her load?

  “Maybe nothing,” Juliet said diplomatically.

  How long does it take you to dust? came the thought. Stacy pushed it away. “Good idea, though,” she said for the sake of solidarity.

  “Okay, sounds like we’re all agreed,” Juliet announced cheerfully. “So, next month everybody tell us what you came up with.”

  And that was that. They took a break to enjoy cheesecake and coffee, then said goodbye to Muriel.

  Finally, before everyone left, they picked their read for the next month, One Day by David Nicholls, in honor of Valentine’s. Thank God it wasn’t another nonfiction book, Stacy thought. A little self-help went a long way.

  No one’s making you do anything, she reminded herself. She was in a book club, not the military. This whole “simple life” thing was only for those who wanted to do it. Her life was simple enough.

  The following night she settled in front of the TV to do some hand-stitching on her latest quilt in progress and watch her favorite show, Weird America. Every show dealt with strange people doing strange things, including everything from snake handlers to people who believed they were vampires. Tonight’s feature, “Hoarders in the Making,” made her squirm.

  It also made her feel a bit cheated. This was just like another show she’d seen on TV. Really, with all the weird stuff out there, couldn’t they do better than this?

  She looked in disgust at the shots of one woman’s house. The living and dining rooms were crammed with furniture and stacks of magazines and newspapers. Closets bulged with clothes that still had the price tags on them. Linen closets overflowed and bags of extra towels and sheets were piled in every closet (where they could be squeezed in around the clothes). The woman had two refrigerators and two freezers, and both were packed with food, much of which had expired. Same with the cupboards. The place looked more like one gigantic storage unit than a house. The woman herself was probably in her sixties. Unlike her house, she looked put together, slim and well-dressed. No excess jewelry, no strange outfit. If you passed her on the street, you’d never know she lived in a sanitized dump.

  “I’m not like that,” Stacy told herself.

  The show moved on, and JoJo Burke, the host, began interviewing another woman. This interview was taking place in the woman’s motor home, which she’d purchased to live in because there was no longer room in her house. From the looks of it, soon there wouldn’t be room for her in the motor home, either.

  “How do you think this started?” asked JoJo.

  “I don’t know,” the woman said sadly.

  “Did you save things as a child?” JoJo probed.

  “We didn’t have much when I was growing up.”

  Well, that explained it.

  “So, you were making up for what you didn’t have,” JoJo said.

  The woman nodded. “Yes.”

  “What was the first thing you hoarded?”

  “I didn’t really hoard it. It was part of a collection.”

  “A lot of us have collections,” Stacy muttered.

  “What did you collect?”

  “Santas.”

  Stacy gave a start and wound up poking herself with a needle.

  “Figurines, ornaments, that sort of thing. And then,” the woman said, “I don’t know. It grew from there. I began collecting crystal. I was making good money. I could afford to buy things. I didn’t want to run out. I bought them on sale.”

  Dean wandered into the family room. “What’s this?”

  “Just my show,” Stacy said, turning it off.

  He sank down on the couch next to her. “Aren’t you going to watch it?”

  “Maybe later.” When he wasn’t around to compare her to some hoarder on TV. “Don’t you have papers to grade?”

  “I just finished. Thought I’d come hang with you. But I don’t mind watching your show.”

  “No, that’s okay,” she said quickly. “Why don’t we watch one of our Netflix movies?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, if you’d rather.”

  She’d definitely rather. All around her lately it seemed as if people were talking about stuff—having too much of it, getting rid of it and, now, hoarding it. What was wrong with having things? Especially if they were nice. Okay, so she had a lot, but so what? That was the American way.

  She wasn’t like those women she’d been watching. And she didn’t care what Muriel Sterling or anyone else said. She didn’t have too much stuff and she wasn’t getting rid of anything. She’d have to receive a message from heaven, get a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Clutter or...some totally cosmic sign before she started tossing her possessions.

  Dean selected a movie featuring a bunch of crooks planning a heist, and she set aside all thoughts of hoarding. (She was so deleting that show without watching another minute of it.) But then one of the crooks said something that brought her mind right bac
k to the subject she kept trying to avoid.

  “The old guy has so much he’ll never miss those paintings. Hell, it’s gonna be days before he even sees they’re gone from the walls.”

  Did she have so much she wouldn’t miss some of it? How many scarves did she need? And how many decorations for various seasons and holidays did she have stuffed away that never made it down from the attic? She thought of the kitchen gadgets, the I-have-a-dream dresses hanging in her closet in a size she’d probably never see again.

  Still, she might use those decorations. She might lose weight. It was the new year, after all.

  The movie played on and the heist continued and Stacy tried to concentrate on what was happening. She hoped those crooks got caught and paid big-time. She didn’t care if the person they were robbing had more than he needed. It wasn’t nice to separate people from things they valued.

  In the end, the crooks got away and she was disappointed. Good thing she’d been multitasking and working on her quilt or she would’ve been really irritated over wasting two hours of her time.

  “There’s two hours I’ll never get back,” she said as the ending credits rolled.

  Dean chuckled. “I don’t know. I enjoyed that movie.”

  “Crooks stealing and getting away with it? Yuck.”

  “Oh, it’s not always bad to steal,” Dean said.

  “What?”

  He turned off the TV and kissed her. “Stealing a kiss is always good,” he said, and planted another kiss on the sensitive spot behind her ear. “So is stealing someone’s heart,” he added softly. “You sure stole mine the first time I saw you.”

  Now he was nuzzling her neck. Okay, she was done quilting. She set aside her work in progress and let her husband steal kisses to his heart’s content. Sex on the couch, one of the advantages of being empty-nesters.

  She went to bed later wearing a smile.

  But she woke up at five in the morning in a state of terror.

  It began when her collection of Santas escaped their box and came looking for her. They’d grown to the size of small children and there were so many of them they filled the whole bedroom. Some sat on the window seat. Others piled onto her slipper chair.