Saturday

On Saturday Jane picked Ray up at 4am. They had to get to Johnson City to pick up a large coffee urn and a restaurant stove. Jose came along to help. Jane had picked them up at a fire sale. The stove had a lot of superficial damage but worked well enough. The urn was fine. Ray’d hook them up after they closed for the day.

By the time they got back to Jane’s it was nearly 6 and getting light. They left the stove and urn in the flatbed. Jane and Ray concentrated on getting ready to open for business. Professor indicated he’d be in early, maybe 6:30. Ray set up the dining room. Jose went off to milk the cow and gather eggs. Jane started a pot of coffee.

Donald Loomis decided against taking the quick route. The snow on the esker was in bad shape, soggy and icy, bare in some places. He had a pair of skis that he used just for such skiing, waxed to glide over sloppy snow. After so many weeks of subzero temperatures and powdery snow it was a bit of a shock to see springlike conditions.

He’d also gotten up at 4am, which was not at all unusual. He liked to watch the late night ski, had a collection of four telescopes for that purpose. That day he went with the hand held one, packed it in his knapsack. He checked the temperature, just under freezing, and accordingly added some red wax to the skis, thinking any day might be the last day of skiing for the season.

He set out in the dark, went immediately downhill and into the woods, followed reflective tree markers to an old logging road, followed the road all the way to DeRuyter Creek. He stopped to take stock of the conditions. The sky was clear and Venus was low on the southeast horizon. He took out the telescope and studied the sky for a few minutes. The quiet was nearly total. The only sounds were soft and indistinct – the flow of the creek, twigs dropping or birds moving in trees, nothing human or manmade. He stayed by the creek until full daylight, content to watch the the sky and meander around the adjacent woods.

It was a good two miles to the swamp across the road from the Thom farm. The ground alongside of the creek was already mostly bare; next to that the snow was solid but slushy. He added some more wax and set out glided through the slush, keeping about 50 feet from the creek. It was still too dark to see properly, so occasionally a ski got tangled in the underbrush, causing the bindings to pop open and let loose the ski. For some reason it gave him a boyish pleasure when that happened, always had.

About halfway to Jane’s he heard the motor of a car, approaching from a distance. He looked at his watch – 7:30. It was the first worldy sound since he left his house. He wasn’t in a hurry but he had built up an appetite. He picked up the pace and reached the road in five minutes, noticed David Prendergast’s Land Rover parked by the front door.
David and Pygmy were already at work on their “bacon” and eggs. “This better be good” Pygmy exclaimed. David had called for her 2 hours early, at 6:30. She had had a bad night and really could have used more sleep. On the way over David told her the story about the woodchuck bacon. Pygmy was too annoyed to be amused, or even show any reaction, sat there with her arms crossed. David’s eyes were on the road, not noticing her body language. Pygymy sort of hissed to give him a clue, also not picked up on. That was David, sometimes, she thought. The only word she could summon was ‘inconsiderate’ but that wasn’t true, not most of the time. David was, well, she didn’t know.

Pygmy took the first bite of her food and found it remarkable, four stars. David looked at her expectantly and Pygmy pretended not to notice him, forced a blank expression. She took a sip of coca and could not contain herself. She smiled with pleasure, dabbed at her lips with the napkin. “Wow, that’s good.” David smirked back her, told you so. They both looked up when the door opened and Donald Loomis entered.

Professor closed the door, turned, and found himself looking directly at David and Pygmy. David stood up, motioned with his hand at one of the empty chairs. “Join us.”

Professor hesitated, then obeyed, walked over and took his knapsack off, placed in on the floor, then draped his jacket over the back of the chair. “Thank you, but I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Donald Loomis.”

“David Prendergast”
They shook hands across the table, David still standing. Of course they knew each other by name but had indeed never been introduced. David had no opinion of the Professor. He had heard all the stories but they only made him vaguely curious about what the Professor (even people on campus used the term) was like. Donald felt a bit sheepish for having been prejudiced about David for so long; now he seemed like a good fellow.

“Pygmy Dyke”
Pygmy extended her hand but remained seated.
“Pygmy Dyke?” Professor took her hand, flustered, unable to not ask, embarrased to have to.
“Pygmy Dyke. It was my stage name but I still use it.”
“I see. Which department are you with?”
David answered for her, as he was loathe to do. “We’re both with COVA. I’m the Dean and Pygmy’s official title is Artist In Residence, but she teaches a few master classes, and does all the work on the annual festival. Couldn’t function without her.”

David’s stock dropped a bit with Donald Loomis, offended at the implication that Loomis wouldn’t know who all the Deans were, but the feeling didn’t stick. The moment was too sweet. He was in the afterglow of his trip through the woods and about to have a wonderful breakfast. Were he grading final exams that morning they would certainly all get A’s. Ray came over and Professor ordered a short stack of pancakes with Jane’s homemade blackberry preserves, a side order of ham, orange juice, and a soft boiled egg.

By the time the food arrived David and Pygmy had long finished theirs and were lingering over second cups of coffee and cocoa. They urged the Professor to “please eat” and slipped into a side conversation while he did, discussing some of the details of the Arts Festival. While they talked, Professor worked at his food slowly and carefully, listening without interest. He looked around the room, seeing no change from the previous days. His gaze was drawn back to the woman’s portrait.

Pygmy picked up on it. “That is an intetesting portrait, the nearly black background to the woman’s left and the bright, cheery wallpaper on the right. It’s like the artist was trying to say something about the woman’s personality, like she was bipolar or something.”

Professor smiled wanly at Pygmy. “I see your point exactly but I doubt we will ever know the artist’s intention. I think the woman was a spinster.”

David leaned forward, intrigued. “Why do you think that?” Both he and Pygmy waited expectantly to hear Professor’s reasoning.

“Jane!” summoned the professor, loudly.

“I’ll get her” said Ray, who had been there all along, the fly on the wall.

Jane came out, said hello to Donald. She had introduced herself to David and Pygmy when they arrived.

“Right, I see the resemblence,” said David “ but how does that make her a spinster?”

“I’m not a spinster, I’m a divorcee, and once was enough for me.” Jane was visibly annoyed.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry. Not talking about you, talking about the woman in the picture. Do you know who she was?”

“That’s Louisa Gregory. She wasn’t a spinster either. She was a widow, the sister of my grandfather’s great grandfather, or you could say my great great great grandaunt. Her husband died in the Civil War, down in Louisiana in 1863, which is kind of funny since her name was Louisa.”

“So maybe that’s why she looks sad in the picture” Pygmy observed.

“She was sad alright. They were only married a year, and he was already in the army when they got married.” Jane paused, realizing for the first time how closely that paralleled her own brief marriage, but she wasn’t going to discuss her personal life with strangers. “She never did remarry, never left the farm.”

They all looked at the portrait sympathetically. Professor felt a bit redeemed by the story. Technically a widow, virtually a spinster. Quite possibly the marriage had not been consummated, he thought.

Pygmy was thinking quite the opposite, picturing torrid lovemaking in the few nights, perhaps only night, the couple had together. Her fantasy was interrupted by another voice, which instructed her to ask Jane about the cocoa. She watched herself ask while the images were still swilling about her mind.

“Oh, that’s just because it’s fresh milk. Jose milks the milk cow every morning.” Jane explained. Jane went on to give more details about the number of quarts (25-30) the milk cow yielded, low for a Holstein but she was grass fed, how Jose didn’t like to feed corn to the chickens either, and they were laying right through the winter, no idea how Jose did that.

Pygmy looked at Ray, thinking he was Jose, and thought he didn’t look the least bit Latin, fair haired and freckled. Kind of cute, too. Reminded her of an unrequited crush from her college days. Ray noticed her looking in his direction and came over.

“Can I get you something else?” He had the phrase down now, tossed it like a horseshoe. Ringer!

“Oh, another cocoa if you could.” Pygmy didn’t want one, in fact she had to use the loo, and she had a thing about public loos.

Donald Loomis finished breakfast and dressed to leave.
“Good luck with the Arts Festival. That starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

David smiled. “Thanks. That’s right. Lucky for us the weather broke.”

“Well, why have it in March. Why not in May?”

“First couple of years we did. It’s the housing problem. There’s not enough hotel rooms. Most of the attendees stay in dorms, frat, or sorority houses, rent them out from the students since it’s Spring Break. Can’t get the State to make the dorms available in May, not yet anyway. Anyway, now it’s kind of a tradition to have it in shitty weather.” David saw disapproval on Professor’s face and regretted saying ‘shitty.’
“Well, I’m off to do some more boring research.” said the Professor.

“You know,” said Pygymy,”I’d like to know more about what your work. You’re a legend on campus, you know.”

“Nonsense! I’m a boring old man, but thank you for saying such flattering words. Good luck with the festival.” Professor slipped out the door, picked up his skis, crossed the road and put them on, skated off in the same direction he had come from.

Pygmy and David decided it was time to leave. “What an amazing man. What an amazing place.” said Pygmy. She waved at Ray. “Jose!”

“I’m not Jose, I’m Ray. Did you want Jose?”

“Oh! Sorry, I thought you were Jose. I’m Pygmy.”

Pretty big for a pygmy, thought Ray. “Hi. Did you want me to get Jose?” wondering why she would want him and what’s more, how she would communicate with him.

“No, I just wanted the check. I’m sorry. The wo- Jane talked about Jose and I thought she was talking about you.”

Ray nodded understandingly. “That’ll be 6.95”

“That’s all?!”

“That’s all”

David gave him a 10 and told him to keep the change. Another car pulled up and a large man got out. Pygmy thought he had a scout uniform on but it was Sheriff Thom, who rumbled through the door, breathing a bit hard, sort of nodded in the general direction of David, Pygmy, and Ray, and rumbled on across the floor and into the kitchen. There was a few seconds silence while they processed the event.

They thanked Ray and headed for the door.
“Do you want me to drop you on campus?” David asked as they walked out.

“No, I have to go home first. I have a leak in the basement. I think a pipe broke. I have to call a plumber. Do you know any?”

Ray heard the reply through the closing door, looked at his watch – 8:35. He had to hook up the stove and urn but he could fit in a no-brainer soldering job, assuming he could get there. He darted to catch them.

“Excuse me!” He yelled as he hopped outside. “I can fix your pipes if you like, charge you less than half of what a plumber would and do twice as good a job. I can do it this afternoon.”

“What time can you be there?” Pygmy asked.

“Between 12 and 1, give or take” Ray said, hoping his mother had shopping planned. The roads were clear enough to bike if need be, although that wouldn’t be much fun with a hacksaw, blow torch, and wrench somewhere on his person. “Charge you $12 an hour.” Ray wondered why he didn’t ask for 15, or why he was so anxious for a couple hours, at best, work.

“Fine. Deal.” said Pygmy. They shook hands and she got in the Land Rover and they drove off. The Professor was still visible, several hundred years across the meadow, gliding along slowly on his skis.

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