A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [74]
“I think I’ll turn up the heat.”
Then Lindsay said, “Listen, you won’t believe what I found on my walk this morning.”
Cici, cradling a bowl filled with oiled red peppers in one hand, opened the back door. Noah stood there, hands in pockets.
“What ya’ll want to do with all that crap in the loft?” he asked.
Cici said, “What loft?”
And Lindsay turned from the stove. “What crap?”
While Bridget, loading heavy, spice-rubbed roasts onto a tray, said, “I thought you were splitting wood.”
Noah, glowering, muttered, “Fool women. Wood, beans, dairy barn . . . Make up your minds, can’t you?”
“You know what we should do,” Bridget said with a sudden light of inspiration in her eyes, “is pick up some of those hickory chips from the yard and put them in the grill to smoke the meat.”
Lindsay repeated, “What crap?”
Cici said, “That’s a great idea. I’ll get them.”
Cici held the back door open as Bridget struggled through with the heavy tray of meat. Noah said, unaccountably, “Hickory spits.”
Lindsay plopped the last tomato into the pot of vegetables and dried her hands on a dish towel. “What crap?” she said.
Lindsay reached the top of the ladder first, followed closely by Bridget and then Cici. A trapdoor was pushed to the side of the opening that was large enough to drop a double bale of hay through. Lindsay looked around carefully before stepping off the ladder, but the floor was solid. She stood up and switched on the flashlight she had brought.
“Wow,” she said.
The dairy loft was vast and steeply raftered, covered in a plank floor that looked like hickory. The smell was warm and dusty, the slow-baked aroma of old wood in the sunshine. Lindsay’s flashlight beam picked out big, lumpy shapes covered with white sheets, boxes, and irregular metal objects stacked against the walls, before Bridget’s light joined hers, and then Cici’s.
“Who could have guessed this was even up here?” Bridget said. “I never knew this place had a loft.”
“They probably stored feed for the cows here,” Cici said when she joined them. “It’s nice and dry, and the trapdoor would have kept the rats and squirrels from eating up the profit.”
“Leave it to a teenage boy to go exploring and come up with a loft we didn’t even know was here,” Bridget said. “This place gets bigger every day.”
Cici made her way over to one of the sheet-covered lumps and lifted the fabric. “It’s furniture,” she said, and the note of excitement in her voice increased as she tossed back the sheet. “Good heavens, it’s a Queen Anne highboy!”
“It matches the table in the dining room,” Bridget said, and Lindsay threw back another sheet.
“Here are the chairs!” she called.
“Will you look at this game table?” Bridget cried, pushing back another dustcover. “Look at all the inset wood!”
“This chair is in pretty bad shape, but I bet it could be re-upholstered.”
“What is all of this junk against the wall here?”
Cici made her way over and joined her flashlight to Lindsay’s. “Bedsprings,” she decided. “Old fashioned, rusted-out bedsprings.”
“I wonder what’s in all these boxes?” Lindsay knelt down to open one but found nothing inside but stained and rotting fabric.
“Old draperies probably,” Cici said. “Not every old box is going to hide a treasure, you know.”
“Well, this is a treasure.” Bridget’s voice, soft with wonder, came from across the room. “Look at this bed frame—it’s burled walnut. And there’s a dresser to match. Did you see this gorgeous gilt mirror?”
“This is better than a department store!” Lindsay exclaimed.
“This is what happened to all the furniture nobody wanted when the family redecorated,” observed Cici.
“Nobody wanted this darling headboard with all the leaves and flowers carved into it?” Bridget said. “Wait, there’s a footboard, too. Lindsay, you should put this in your room. It’s perfect!”
“Where’s Noah?” Lindsay demanded. “We’ve got to start getting this stuff out of here. I can’t wait to see what we have! It’s like Christmas!”
Cici held up a hand. “Okay, hate to be a buzzkill here, but . . .”
The other two groaned.