Eyes on the Prize Read online

  “Hey, Jane,” Betsy Long said.

  “Hi, Betsy. Briana.” Jane dropped her pace to a walk, falling into step with the two women, who were in their early thirties. “Nice day for a walk.”

  “Hope told me you’re training for the Harvest Run,” Betsy said.

  “I thought I’d give it a try,” Jane said, her words coming out between short breaths.

  “We’re going to enter too,” Briana said. “Only we’re just going to walk the course.”

  “I picked up a brochure at the Coffee Shop,” Betsy said. “They want runners, walkers, and they even have a section for wheelchair participants.”

  “Sounds like it’s going to be quite an event,” Jane said.

  “We walked half of the course today,” Briana said. “I told Betsy I needed to start walking. I need the exercise, and it’s for a good cause. My cousin’s daughter has diabetes and my mother has it too, so I’m a prime candidate to get it. We’re going to walk a little farther every day to get ready.”

  “You’re smart to do it that way. I just did the full course and I’m exhausted. I think I’ll slow it up a bit and work on part of the course every day for a week. I saw Eleanor Renda, the high school track coach. She was checking out the course for her students. She’s encouraging them to participate.”

  “That’s terrific,” Briana said. “They’ll be hard to beat, though.”

  “Oh, I don’t expect to win the race,” Jane said. “I just want to do my personal best.” She almost winced after she said it. She did want to beat Carrie Gleason or whatever her name was now. Just as in her school days, she wanted that very badly. “I’ll see you later,” Jane said, and she resumed jogging with a burst of speed to put as much distance as possible between her and Betsy and Briana. She hadn’t lied. She didn’t care about coming in first in the race. Only about coming in ahead of one particular runner.

  “If you could sit on the stool and put your hand on top of the pumpkin …”

  With a sigh, Louise complied. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but here she was, posing for another picture with her pumpkin. This picture would appear, Carlene had informed her, on the front page of the weekly Acorn Hill newspaper. Louise grimaced. Some people were photogenic. She didn’t feel that she was one of them.

  “Smile, Louise. This is a happy occasion. I get enough bad news.” Carlene knelt down on a straw-strewn path in the garden. She squinted into the camera viewfinder, then looked up at Louise. “Lean forward a couple of inches. Your face is in the shade.”

  That could only be a good thing, Louise thought, but she obeyed.

  “Much better. I didn’t know you were a talented gardener. Jane is the one who always enters her flowers and vegetables in the fair. Have you done a lot of gardening in the past? There, say ‘geese.’”

  Louise sighed. “Geese,” she said without much enthusiasm. She hoped the pumpkin story would overshadow her picture. After all, that’s why Carlene wanted an interview.

  Carlene snapped off three pictures in succession, then looked into the back of her camera. Finally she stood.

  “Great. I got three good shots. Shall we get out of the sun?”

  “Let’s sit on the front porch,” Louise suggested, picking up the stool she’d been sitting on and carrying it back to the house.

  The covered porch still had shade in the early afternoon. Louise and Carlene sat on the padded wicker chairs from which they could look out toward the downtown area. Jane brought out fresh coffee and crumbly dessert bars.

  “Those look delicious,” Carlene said, taking one. “Maybe I should include some pumpkin recipes along with Louise’s article.”

  “I’ve been collecting pumpkin recipes since Louise planted her giant pumpkins. I’ve found recipes for desserts, soups, salads, stuffed potatoes, ravioli sauce, cookies, waffles and pancakes. I haven’t tried many of them yet. I usually come up with ideas as I cook.”

  Carlene took a small bite of the bar. “Mmm.” She looked up at Jane. “What’s in this? I taste pecans and cheesecake.”

  “All of that plus apple and pumpkin.”

  “Very good. Is this an original?”

  “I suppose so. I combined and adapted several recipes.”

  “Would you be willing to share it?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to think about that.” Jane giggled. “Perhaps I could run some recipes closer to Halloween.”

  “That would give me time to create something. Now I’ll leave you alone to talk.” Jane left the goodies on the wicker table between them and went inside.

  Carlene turned to Louise. “You’re all so talented. You amaze me.” She took out a small notepad and pen, and put on her reading glasses. “Tell me about your pumpkin patch. What made you decide to grow a giant pumpkin?”

  Louise steepled her hands together. “I saw one when I visited Connecticut several years ago. It was so fascinating that I bought a small package of the Atlantic Giant seeds. Then I put them in a drawer and forgot about them. This year, I found them and decided to plant them to see what might happen.” She smiled. “I admit I never expected to succeed so dramatically.”

  “So what did you do to make them grow so large? I imagine you did more than just put them in the ground and water them.”

  “Oh yes. Much more. I kept a diary.” Louise pulled a small bound book out of her pocket. She opened it. “I found a book at the library on growing vegetables. Pumpkins are actually a fruit, by the way, but they are treated like a vegetable. Where do you want me to start? You don’t want all this detail.”

  “Give me some highlights. What special things did you have to do and what problems have you faced?” Carlene was already writing in her notebook. At Louise’s pause, she stopped and looked over at her. “Go ahead. I can jot notes as you talk.”

  “All right. I picked May 19th to start my seeds. I followed the instructions and filed the edges, using an emery board. I soaked them several hours, then laid them between damp paper towels inside a plastic bag. I kept them under a light bulb, so they’d stay warm and germinate. It took about three days. Out of eight seeds, seven of them sprouted, but two were sickly.” Louise turned the page. “I planted them in peat pots on May 25th and kept them under the light bulb. It took about a week to get the first leaf.”

  “That sounds pretty standard for starting seeds. Did they all keep growing? I only saw three plants in the garden. What happened to the others?”

  “Well, all kinds of things. At first, I covered the plants with milk jugs with the bottoms removed. I’d seen Jane do that. It worked quite well, until the leaves started growing out of the tops. I removed the jugs, and the first night something ate the top off one of the plants. Every leaf was gone. We never did figure out what it was, but Craig gave me chicken-wire baskets to cover them.

  “Then it turned cold unexpectedly. I went out first thing in the morning with a blanket, but one of the sickly plants died. It was kind of sad. I’d been nursing it along.” Louise stopped and shook her head. “I suppose that sounds silly, treating a pumpkin plant like a child or something.”

  “No, not at all. Well, maybe a little. I think all serious gardeners treat their plants with TLC. That’s why their plants grow so well.” Carlene laughed, showing her dimples. “Mine have to survive severe drought, since I keep forgetting to water them, poor things. They’ve got to be tough.”

  “To be honest, that’s always been a problem for me as well.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You’re a meticulous and caring person, Louise. I can’t imagine your neglecting anything.”

  Louise smiled. “Thank you. That’s a fine compliment, Carlene. I suppose it comes down to priorities. I love my family and my music, foremost, so my attention goes to my students and to my sisters and our family business. That’s why I’ve kept a diary and a calendar for my pumpkin venture. They help me to stay on track.” She flipped forward several pages. “I’ve battled heat, cold, too much humidity, not enough humidity, root rot, powder
y mildew and aphids. Craig Tracy showed me how to hand-pollinate the plants and he’s been invaluable, advising me at every step how to deal with the weather. I’m a novice when it comes to gardening.”

  “That’s what makes your pumpkins so remarkable. You have at least one contender for a champion pumpkin. Are you aware of the competitive nature of giant pumpkin growers?”

  “I’ve heard about that. I guess I still don’t know about the sport of giant pumpkins.”

  “Well, your pumpkin is news. You might put Acorn Hill on the map.”

  Louise raised one eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

  “We’ll see. Just remember, I said it first.” Carlene put away her notebook and stood. “Thank you for the interview and picture. And thank Jane for the pumpkin bar. Remind her I’d like a recipe for the paper. I’ll be sure to mention the inn.”

  Louise watched Carlene stride purposefully down the sidewalk. She operated and published the Acorn Nutshell by herself since the death of her father, serving as editor, reporter and photographer and every other position a weekly publication required. Louise had to admire her hard work and tenacity. Acorn Hill was fortunate to have her.

  Louise enjoyed the celebrating of her gardening success, but she’d had enough picture-taking to last a year. She’d set out to prove a point to her sisters and the entire project had gotten out of hand. She hoped Carlene’s article would be the end of it.

  When Jane opened the front door, Louise was standing on the other side. She was carrying cups and the leftover pumpkin bars. Jane stepped aside to let her enter. “How did your interview go?”

  “I’m sure I bored Carlene with all the details of my agricultural achievement. She’s determined to do an article on the pumpkin, so I suppose she’ll pull together something to make it interesting.”

  “She’s good at that. I’m going downtown to see if I can drum up some support for the race. Do you need anything?” Jane said.

  “Are you stopping by the General Store?”

  “Yes. I’ll make it my last stop so I can pick up some bananas.”

  “In that case, would you bring me a quart of buttermilk?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “Thanks.” Louise went down the hall.

  Jane stopped at the Coffee Shop first. Hope Collins was ringing up a customer’s tab. She finished and turned to Jane. “Hi. Have a seat, Jane. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “I’m not here to eat this time, Hope. I’m looking for sponsors for the 10K Harvest Run for diabetes. I was wondering if you and June would be willing to help out?”

  Hope’s shoulders slumped. “I’d really like to, Jane, but I’ve already committed to supporting Betsy and several of the kids on the track team. They come in here a lot, you know. Besides, I’m walking it, so I’m sponsoring myself. I’m sorry.” She turned to the kitchen. “Hey, June. Jane’s here to talk to you.”

  Hope hurried off to wait on a customer. June Carter poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hi, Jane. What can I do for you?”

  Jane walked over to the kitchen entrance. “I’m looking for supporters for the Harvest 10K Run. Sounds like you’re already committed though.”

  “I can pledge fifty cents per kilometer. I’m doing that for any customer who asks. So far, you’re the sixth person.”

  “Thanks, June. I appreciate it. Louise and I will be down sometime this week for lunch.”

  “All right.” She waved her spatula in the air and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Jane went next door to the antique shop. Joseph Holzmann was behind the counter.

  “Good afternoon, Jane. Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful. Have you heard about the Harvest 10K Run for diabetes here next month? I’m looking for sponsors.”

  “I’ll need to confer with Rachel. She isn’t here right now, but I’m sure we can give you something. We bought an ad for their brochure. The lady said we should have lots of out-of-town visitors for the race. We put in a coupon for ten percent off that day. We’re always busy during the fall color season, but a little extra business doesn’t hurt.”

  “Yes, it sounds like quite an event. I’ll check back when Rachel’s here. Thanks.”

  Jane stopped at the Good Apple Bakery, where Clarissa promised her a five-dollar donation, and she left with two loaves of fresh focaccia bread that smelled divine. She stopped at Sylvia’s Buttons, Nellie’s dress shop and Time for Tea. Each of them pledged support, but Jane began to feel guilty asking them to give on top of the pledges they’d already made. She didn’t want people supporting her just because they were friends, although it was a worthwhile cause and she wanted to support the effort.

  By the time she got to the General Store, she realized that she might have to look outside Acorn Hill for pledges if she wanted to do a good job for the Diabetes Foundation. She bought bananas and Louise’s buttermilk, and trudged home.

  Chapter Seven

  Coming off her run Wednesday afternoon, Jane stopped at the mailbox and leaned against it, breathing hard. Her shins hurt, but she shouldn’t have stopped abruptly. She needed to wind down. Straightening, she looked at her watch as she started walking down Chapel Road toward town. Forty-five minutes. She’d gone four miles, but that included hills. Still, she needed to do better than that.

  As she walked, her heartbeat returned to normal. She reached the corner of Hill Street, turned around and walked back to the mailbox. Leaning over, she touched the ground, then stood and stretched her legs back, first one, then the other.

  She collected the mail and the weekly newspaper, and started up the walk to the house. The headlines and picture beneath it caught her attention. Louise looked small seated next to her pumpkin. Jane smiled. It was a nice picture, but she could detect a slightly irritated look on her sister’s face. The average person would see a composed half-smile. But Jane knew better.

  Jane saw that the parlor door was closed, an indication that Louise was conducting a lesson. She placed the newspaper on the kitchen table for her sister to see, knowing that Louise would make a cup of tea after her student left. Then Jane hurried upstairs to shower before she started dinner.

  When she came downstairs, the parlor door was open and the piano was silent. She headed for the kitchen.

  Louise was standing at the counter, waiting for her tea to steep, reading the paper. She looked up and frowned.

  “Well, it’s not too bad, but the picture would be better without me in it.”

  “I think it’s a good picture of you, Louie. Besides, it gives perspective to the size of your pumpkin.”

  Louise put down the paper and picked up her tea. “I suppose people will come by now wanting to see it.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “Can I help with dinner?” Louise offered. “I’m experimenting tonight. Sit down and drink your tea.”

  Louise took a seat. “What are you concocting?”

  “Carlene wants a pumpkin recipe, so I thought I’d make a pumpkin sauce to serve over penne pasta. Is that all right with you?”

  “Pumpkin sauce? I can’t even begin to imagine how that will taste, but I’m game.” The telephone rang just as she took a sip of tea. “I’ll get it,” she said.

  “Grace Chapel Inn, Louise speaking.”

  Jane couldn’t hear the other end of the call, but Louise looked flustered.

  “I suppose that would be all right. Tomorrow at three o’clock.” Louise said good-bye and hung up.

  “Who was that?”

  “A reporter from the Potterston newspaper. He wants to come see the pumpkin and do an interview with me.”

  “So you’ll get even more publicity.”

  “If it appears in the Potterston paper, more people will see it. I suppose that means visitors.” Louise looked dazed, as if the implications were just beginning to sink in.

  A knock at the back door interrupted them. The door opened and Ethel walked in, holding a copy of the paper. “Did you see this? You’re famous,
Louise.”

  “Yes, I saw it. Would you like a cup of tea, Auntie?”

  “Certainly, thank you.” Ethel sat down at the kitchen table. “Lloyd and I ate lunch at the Coffee Shop. Everyone stopped to ask me about your pumpkin, Louise. Of course, I was happy to tell them what I know, which is very little. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me informed. Fortunately, I was there Sunday when Craig and Sam measured and weighed it.”

  “They didn’t weigh it,” Louise objected. “They estimated its weight. They could be off by quite a bit.”

  “True, and I stressed the fact that it may weigh much more than nine hundred fifty pounds. I hope you don’t mind that I told everyone they can come by and see for themselves.”

  “I hope they’ll have the courtesy to call first and make sure we’re home.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. One of you is always home. If you’re not, I’ll be happy to show them your pumpkin.”

  Louise raised her eyebrow. A knock at the back door turned her attention. Probably a good thing, Jane thought. Louise might have been tempted to reprimand their aunt. Ethel had a tendency to take matters into her own hands, which wasn’t always convenient or welcome.

  “Come in,” Louise said, opening the door to Vera. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Jane filled the teakettle as Vera entered the kitchen.

  “Thanks. I’d love one. Do you have chamomile?”

  “Yes. Busy day at school?” Jane asked.

  “Very. It’s always a little chaotic the first month. Things are settling down. Speaking of school …” she turned to Louise. “I … uh … promised our principal that I’d ask you if we could bring the kindergarten and first grade classes on a field trip here to see your pumpkin. I’d like to bring my class too, perhaps on a different day. We could work out dates later on.”

  Jane pictured a hoard of children running around in the garden, stepping on vegetables and bouncing on Louise’s pumpkins. She almost laughed at the image. It would make a great illustration for the book Cynthia had talked about producing. Although her first thought was an emphatic “No,” Jane quickly reconsidered. They could occupy the children with games on the back lawn, while they escorted small groups to see the pumpkins. She looked at Louise, to see her reaction.