“I wish I could.”
“Well, what the hell is going on out there?” Andrea sounded close to tears. “Where are all these bodies coming from?”
“I don’t know. And I haven’t seen the news today, so I don’t know what’s being said.”
“They’re saying four bodies have been found out in the fields.”
“It’s actually the old woods. The developer cut the trees down. I guess to the reporters it looks like part of the field. And I guess, technically, it is now.”
“Well, so much for finding a buyer. Who’s going to want to buy the property now that bodies are popping up all over the place?”
“Trust me, any one of the builders down here would love to get their hands on this much land. They won’t care. At least, they won’t after this blows over.”
“Well, won’t the police keep the property off-limits for a while?”
“For a while, maybe, while they search around to see if there’s anything else here, but that won’t last. Are you worried we won’t be able to find a buyer?”
“I’m more worried that we will.” Andrea sighed. “I don’t know if it’s the baby that’s making me nostalgic, or if it’s just a slightly delayed reaction to Mom’s death, but I find myself more and more wishing we didn’t have to sell. Even if we could just save the farmhouse and the barn, maybe that stretch along the road, down to the pond. That way we’d still own the family plot.”
Andrea was sniffling.
“Why can’t we do that, Lori? Why can’t we keep that much?” The sniffles turned to sobs. “Why do we have to sell it all?”
“We’d still have taxes, and maintenance on the house. We can’t leave it vacant indefinitely,” Lorna said as gently as she could.
“But we could come for a few weeks every summer, and the kids could see what life on the farm is like.”
“Does it make sense to hold on to it just for those two weeks when you bring your family on vacation?”
“Well, you could vacation there, too, and Robbie…”
“Andrea…”
“And Christmas. What about Christmas? We could all come back at Christmas. Mom would have liked that.”
“Yes, she would. But there’d be no ‘all,’ sweetie. Rob told me he’ll never come back.”
“I don’t know what’s up with that, Lorna.” Andrea was back to sniffling. She blew her nose away from the phone, then said, “He told me pretty much the same thing, last time I spoke with him. I asked him how he could feel that way about our home, and he said that my memories were apparently better than his, then he changed the subject.”
“He said he only wants his share of the proceeds of the sale. He’s out of work right now, and I guess he needs the money.”
“Why can’t we buy him out, you and me? Why can’t we just sell the fields and give him that?”
“Andi, honey, it doesn’t make sense. Someone has to live here. Someone has to take care of the place.”
“But Mr. Compton-”
“Mr. Compton did it for Mom. Mom’s gone now, and we can’t expect him to watch over this place forever.”
“But you could-”
“No, Andi, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. This isn’t my home anymore. I love it, every bit as much as you do, but like you, I’ve made a home elsewhere. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to get back to it.”
“Maybe I can talk to Robbie. Maybe I can bring him around.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll let you know what he says.”
“You do that, sweetie.”
Lorna hung up the phone and blew out a long breath. Andrea was always sentimental when she was pregnant. Maybe her attachment to the farm would pass when the baby was born.
Maybe not.
Well, Lorna couldn’t dwell on that right now. Her houseguest was on her way down the steps, looking for coffee, no doubt. Lorna opened a cupboard and took down the sealed bag of ground coffee she’d bought at the supermarket earlier in the week, then found the coffee pot. She hadn’t bothered to make her own since she’d returned to Callen; buying it already made had seemed easier. Today would be a good day to start.
Lorna was filling the pot with water when Regan came into the room.
“Oh, yay. I was hoping there’d be coffee.” Regan smiled.
“Well, there will be, once I figure out how much coffee goes into this thing.” Lorna set the pot on the counter and searched through one of the nearby drawers for a pair of scissors to cut the top off the packet of coffee.
“My dad had one of those old percolating pots. He used a heaping tablespoon of coffee per every cup of water.”
“Works for me.” Lorna hunted for a measuring spoon and cup, then dumped the water out of the pot. “We’ll start over, though, because I have no idea how much water I put in there.”
“It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day.” Regan stood at the screen door.
“It is, much less humid than it’s been. Which is a relief. It’s been wicked hot here.”
“Can we take a tour of the farm?”
“Sure. Before or after breakfast?”
“Before. We can take our coffee. It’s a nice morning for a stroll.”
They waited while the coffee perked, then left through the back door, mugs in hand.
“Barn on the right, gardens on the left,” Lorna pointed out. “Straight ahead is the field, at the opposite side of which is the section of field where the bodies were found.”
“You have any thoughts at all on that?” Regan asked.
Lorna shook her head. “Not a clue. My first thought was that maybe they’d come from the family burial plot somehow, but there’s no sign of the graves having been disturbed.”
“Could that have happened at some other time? Maybe a few years ago?”
“Someone would have noticed. My family has lived here continuously since the mid-eighteen hundreds. If the graves had been dug up, someone would have known.”
“Where’s the family plot?”
“Right down here.” Lorna led the way. They walked several hundred yards, then stopped by the fence. “Grandparents, great-grandparents, great-greats, and several generations of aunts, uncles, cousins, and of course my dad and some of my mom’s ashes are here now.”
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Regan leaned on the fence. “All those pretty vines and the wildflowers. It’s just the way I’d picture a small country graveyard.”
“I thought it needed some tending-the grass was getting long-but it looks as if our neighbor, Mr. Compton, came down and mowed. I’m going to have to give him a call and thank him.”
Lorna walked around the back of the small cemetery, Regan following.
“Down here’s the pond and, beyond that, a small orchard.”