Jonas and Mariah learned much about each other over the next few months as spring slipped into summer and then summer into fall. They took coffee together every Sunday after church, and Mrs. Goodbread kept a table near the picture window just for them. Mariah resumed school for the children when major work on the house had completed and only a handful of men were needed for the finishing touches.
Jonas had been at the house every day, but his supervision wasn’t necessary. It was as if the men and women of Constance knew exactly what the house needed and worked steadily to meet those needs. Instead, Jonas just made sure that everyone had tea and cakes at midmorning and again at mid-afternoon, with fresh salads and breads for lunch. While the mornings were still chilly, he would arrive especially early to start the fires. Later, he arrived early to open the windows so the warm cross breezes would free the house of the scent of cleaning solvents and oils.
The women brought linens and quilts and sundry other necessities that they had either made for the house or were donating from their cache. The master bedroom was the first of the bedrooms to be completed. A four-poster bed with lace canopy was donated by Mrs. Goodbread, who now preferred to sleep on the daybed since her husband of 45 years had passed away. Theirs had been a happy and fruitful marriage. Mrs. Goodbread bore her husband eight children, four boys and four girls, all of who still lived in town. No one ever knew of the Goodbreads arguing, much less raising their voices to each other. Their children swore that their parents’ love for each other was so deep and abiding, it was almost as if they had been born for each other.
Jonas took the donation of the bed, which had been cared for so well that it looked as if Mr. Goodbread had just built it, as a good omen. A new mattress was brought. The room was wallpapered with a pattern of tea roses sprinkled over a soft green background. The trim was painted petal pink. One of Mariah’s older students, Miss Saintsbury, made white lace curtains and a linen shade for the large window opposite the door. Mr. Treadwell, the town’s master glassblower, created an exquisite opaque white dome for the ceiling light, with a variety of wildflowers etched around the dome. His ten-year-old son and apprentice blew two small bowls of pearly glass for reading lamps that he personally affixed to simple brass stems.
An oaken chest of drawers and end tables were crafted by Hannah and Jemima’s father. At their directions a border of tea roses were carved around the top edges of the chest and tables. The quilt that the young girls had given to Jonas was made with a decidedly expert hand. Jonas practically gushed over the young girls’ skill, and they and their mother blushed with pride.
The quilt was a log cabin pattern of soft green and light pink among floral pieces. The pieces were quite small, suggesting that the girls had spent countless hours cutting and counting. The border was wide with alternating stripes of green, pink, and floral. Pearl buttons were sewn to the top of the quilt in a haphazard fashion, looking as if they had been thrown like seeds in a flower bed.
Jonas pulled out a disposable camera and took several pictures of the room. He wanted to put together a picture book to show potential buyers, many of whom he would have to seek out in the city. Mere description alone would not attract someone who would have to travel far. A picture is worth a thousand words, he thought as he put the camera back in his pocket. As he left the room, he felt a slight ache in his heart at the thought of having to sell the house. It was an unexpected feeling that he quickly brushed away.
