years!â
âGood morning, darling.â Ruby grins, ignoring my outburst. âI didnât mean to scare the bejeezus out of you like that, though I must say it was most satisfying.â
âGood morning to you. I was deep in thought about this. â I pat the duck. âDoes it work?â
âOh of course it does, love. Edâs been caringâused to care for it ever since he hauled it here. Ran like a charm. We would take it out to one of the Apostle Islands, pull up on a nice sandy spot and have a picnic.â
âHow romantic,â I mock. Ruby sticks her tongue out at me. âIâm jealous.â I climb up the ladder on the side. âLooks easy enough to drive.â For kicks I turn the key thatâs hanging in the ignition; nothing.
â Do be careful, darling.â
âThe battery probably needs charging and a bath in the lake wouldnât be a bad idea, either. Things always seem to work better if theyâre cleaned up.â
âSpoken like a true hairstylist/boat mechanic.â Ruby absently smoothes the apron sheâs wearing over her lavender outfit.
âI would love to get this puppy going.â
âThereâs a workbench,â Ruby offers, pointing to it. âIâm sure thereâs a charger over thereâ¦somewhere.â
âHow about you make breakfast and Iâll see if I can get this started?â I pull the key out and climb down the ladder. âWe could have our very own lake tour this morning, if it works, that is.â
âSounds lovely, darling. Donât go blowing anything up, for heavenâs sake.â She turns back toward the cottage.
I head over to the workbench. On the way, I pass a stack of dusty steamer trunks, several pairs of wooden snowshoes, a deer head and an enormous stuffed bear on wheels wearing a lampshade. Beyond this, nearer to the workbench, are winches, pulleys, coffee cans overflowing with nails, and blow-torches. After rooting around and sneezing myself silly, I find it.
Iâve had to hook my van up to many clientsâ cars over the years to give them a jump, so I consider myself an expert. After attaching the charger, I realize I left the keys on the workbench.
âDamn.â Heading back over, I notice a painted wooden sign in the shape of an enormous key. It has about twenty little hooks running along the bottom holding every shape and length of key, most of them with a string attached to a handwritten label. Hats off to Ed for being so organized. After swiping away spider webs, I read the labels. âLawn mower, boathouse, guest cottage, porch door, front door, back door, duck keys. Duck keys .â
I grab them and then of course, I find the key I left on the bench, too. I take both sets, just in case. Since Iâm really not into inhaling fumes, and since I half expect the boat to run, I need one large barn door to open.
I can see a motor way up there at the top of the door and by following the wires down, I walk over to a round green button the size of a saucer. I press it and am impressed by the small concert of squeaks and groans that echo all the way down from the ceiling. The massive door smoothly folds to either side of the opening, leaving a veil of grapevines to sway in the wind. Morning sunshine floats on dust clouds into the barn. I stand next to the duck, looking out toward the cottage and the lake beyond.
I decide not to try turning it over until after we have breakfast so it will get a good dose of juice. On the way back to the cottage, a meowing Rocky greets me. I scoop him up in my arms and give him a big fat kiss, right on the lips, and he purrs. Then I remember his lips have clamped around mice necks and I spit into the grass. Rocky gives me one of his looks.
â There you are, darling. Did it start?â
âNeeds to charge for a bit.â I plunk down on a wicker stool and spin.
âGood thinking.â Ruby pulls two bowls from the