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

of the first of his thick fingers, which was adorned with a heavy gold ring with a red stone set into the middle, and began to flip his way through the stack occasionally pausing to pull out a paper and set it aside. When he reached the bottom of the stack, he took the new, smaller stack of papers that he had created and picked them up, tapping them sharply against the tabletop before placing them in front of Helen and Cassandra. The topmost paper had a large red stamp covering the text at its center, and as the women flipped through the stack a smaller version of it reappeared on many of the following sheets. The more they read, the more the warmth seemed to rush out of their faces, leaving them looking increasingly distressed. The man appeared to have little sympathy for their struggle and watched them impatiently, foot-tapping out a quick beat on the wooden floor. Cassandra reached out a hand, and flipped to the bottom-most page, looking over the bold text declaring that, due to their increasing number of missed and late payments, the entirety of the forest, as well as their cottage within it, were being repossessed and sold to pay off their debt. It was at that moment that a loud ding echoed through the room. Helen jumped up from the bench, hurrying to the counter and reaching to turn off the timer. She placed it gently back onto a shelf just above the stove, before slipping on a pair of oven mitts and reaching inside. She emerged holding a lovely-looking fruit tart which she set lightly onto a rack to cool. She thoughtfully reached into a bowl on the counter, pulling out a cluster of small red berries which she inspected, and placed neatly in the center of the tart as a garnish. Returning to the table, she sat and let out a mournful sigh, leaning into her sister’s side. Upon her arrival, the man launched once again into the conversation, ignoring the sisters’ shocking state, loudly confirming their nightmare in a terse and business-like fashion. As he spoke, he removed the stacks of papers from the table, tucking them into his briefcase and preparing to leave; he was already heading to the door when he turned to say, “I think you will be happy to hear that the bank already has a buyer lined up, so you two ladies’ unreliability won’t leave us in the red for much longer. A real gentleman has looked over the parcel, and has plans for development already in motion.” he paused, “I am going to take a quick walk around the edge of the property for boundary marking purposes but will depart shortly - and remember, you only have the two weeks to vacate the property.” The two women froze, the shock and terror they had felt before now exponentially increasing. It took the sound of the man continuing towards the door to break shatter the moment; Helen once again jumped up, this time pulling herself together to call after the banker: “Sir, for the trouble we’ve caused you, won’t you stay and have a bite to eat before you go? The drive back to town from here is quite long.” At this, Cassandra spun around to face her sister, eyebrows furrowed and eyes flaming, but Helen ignored her look and pressed forward: “We were just about to have a slice of pie and cup of tea before our afternoon walk, and I’m sure Cassandra wouldn’t mind in the slightest if you chose to join us.” The man released his grasp on the doorknob, and with a shrug took a few steps back towards the kitchen. “I’m sure just a few minutes for some pie and tea before getting back to the office can’t do too much harm,” he grumbled, looking hungrily at the still-warm dish on the counter as he moved to retake his seat at the table. While he sat, Helen enlisted the help of her sister at the counter opposite him as they bustled about boiling water and pulling mugs and tea bags out from within the cabinets. After a moment, the two women returned to the table carrying a tray laden with small cups and plates, pie and berries, and tea and milk. They placed a plate with a large slice of pie directly in front of the man before taking teacups for themselves and settling in. As the man ate, he began to soften for the first time since his arrival, explaining his family’s business to them, and even asking them about the history of the house and forest they had grown up in. After talking, the man informed the women that he was going to complete his surveyal, and would then be on his way. Cassandra glanced quickly at Helen for reassurance, before speaking up: “We were planning on taking an afternoon stroll around the property anyway today, would you like us to show you the way?” The trio walked quietly together across the clearing and away from the cottage, growing ever nearer to the edge of the woods. The two women took the lead, moving slowly along a path at the edge of the forest,

stopping every now and then to point something of interest out to the man. The path they took began to slowly curve to the left, leading them ever so slightly deeper into the shade of the trees. After walking for a while they came to a clearing, much smaller than the field where the cottage sat, the area was just large enough to hold two benches across from each other with enough room for two, maybe three people to sit and have a conversation. Feeling suddenly out of breath, the man sat heavily on the closer of the two benches and placed his head in his hands for a moment; he drew in a deep breath, only to find that it exacerbated the problem and caused his head to spin. Noticing for the first time since leaving the cottage how dark the sky above him was getting, he thought to stand, pushing himself up from the bench with both hands. He transferred his weight onto his feet and attempted to raise himself, but as he went his legs began to spasm, locking the muscles so that he was forced down onto his knees. He toppled onto the ground, falling onto his back so that he was staring into the cloudy night sky above him. He once again tried to drive himself into an upright position, discovering through the process that he had also lost control of the muscles in his arms as he collapsed back onto the ground, the light from the sky fading completely from his vision.

*** The early morning rays broke over the trees casting a hazy glow over the lone cottage on the edge of the woods. A morning chatter filled the air as the forest began to wake up and greet the day. As the first beams reached the flower boxes hanging just below the window sills the inhabitants of the cottage began to stir; the curtains were drawn back, and the windows were thrown open to catch the little breeze the day would bring. Two women emerged side by side from the rear of the cottage, both pausing to seemingly absorb just a bit of what was around them, before letting out matching sighs and heading towards the small coop in the corner of the yard. As the coop door opened a flock of small hens came rushing out, eager to explore the garden beds and rouse up something to eat. One hen closer to the edge of the yard seemed to take a particular interest in something she had found buried in the dirt, and began pecking at it with a new intensity. As she removed dirt from the surface, a beam of sun traveled across the yard, revealing a sharp, red reflection; with one last peck, she was able to pull it free from the ground and move her head up with her treasure held high in her beak. The hen proudly carried the ring for a moment, before a scuttling insect in the grass caught her attention and she dropped it to set off in pursuit of her next morning snack.

~ Spencer Goldsmith

Domenic Bowen