Falmouth Academy Resonance 2020-21

The Cottage

The slam of a truck door reverberated through the small stands of trees at the edge of the forest as a man in a dark suit brushed off his lapels and grabbed the briefcase off of the still-warm hood. He glanced at the cottage in front of him, afternoon sun bouncing off of its ajar windows and cheery window boxes, and snorted before stalking up the small stone pathway to the front door. He rapped on the door twice with the back of his knuckles, stepped back, and glanced at his watch before leaning forward and rapping on the door twice more with an increase in force. A creak from within the house gave him a second warning before the door flew open to reveal a slightly flustered woman wearing an apron. She was bathed in the warm glow of the kitchen’s lights, her wild, curly hair lit in such a way that it appeared as if she had a halo. The man’s eyes raked up and down her body, taking in her slightly disheveled state enhanced by the smudge of flour on the tip of her nose before looking her in the face and beginning to speak. As he began to introduce himself, his eyes strayed from her face and began to search the area just over her shoulder, as if trying to get a better view of the inside of the house.

The woman, beginning to notice his drifting gaze, cleared her throat lightly to draw his attention back to her.

“Sir, I am sorry to interrupt your introduction, but your focus seems to be elsewhere. Is there something that you need, or anything that I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually,” answered the man. “Would the man of the house happen to be home? I am here to conduct serious business for the bank and would like to deliver my message to someone competent as soon as possible.”

“Now let me check,” said the woman, turning to call over her shoulder into the house, “Cass? Are you here?”

When no answer was called back, the woman turned back to the man, pausing for a second as if considering what she was about to do, before stepping back from the doorway and ushering the man over the threshold into the house.

“Why don’t you come in for a moment and have a seat? I’ll be back in a jiffy, but feel free to make yourself at home while I’m gone.”

The man strode into the room, taking a seat in a heavy wooden chair placed next to the round dining table in the corner. The woman quickly checked to make sure he was settled, ignoring his impatient bouncing, and then hurried off through a set of swinging doors leaving the man alone in the kitchen with just the fading sounds of her rustling skirts and the gentle clack of the doors.

Soon, the tap of footsteps and rustle of skirts began to grow nearer again, alerting the man to the woman’s return. When he raised his head to introduce himself to the man of the house, he was surprised to find himself staring up at a second woman. Although almost identical to the woman who had greeted him at the door, this woman had no apron on over her flowing skirt and blouse and exuded an air of extroversion that the first woman had been lacking. She immediately extended her hand to him, and, after a moment of staring at it in a state of semi-shock, he hesitantly raised his own to shake it.

She and the first woman pulled out the bench opposite his seat and sat down in unison, settling in with their hands in their laps watching the man with an expectant gaze. As the seconds ticked by, the women realized that he appeared to still be waiting for something, and the second woman spoke up:

“I am sorry to inform you, but if you are waiting for the man of the house, you will be here for rather a long time. It is just my sister Helen, who you have already met, and me who live here, although we would be perfectly happy to help you with whatever you may need from us.”

The man glanced back and forth between the two women as if about to make a painful compromise, before clearing his throat and answering tightly.

“Well, if that is the case, then I guess you will have to suffice.” He swung his briefcase up onto the table, and unlatched it, letting the embossed leather lid stamped with the words ‘Herrman and Sons’ fall back onto the table. Several pens and an assortment of neat office supplies were just visible to the women before the man pulled out a thick and official-looking stack of papers and snapped the case shut again. He licked the tip 49