Sanctuary by E. Edgar Price
*****
The kitchen was a sunny yellow room with red checked curtains at the windows that reminded Sarah of picnic blankets. Aunt Rachel was at the double stove, sliding bacon onto a serving plate when Sarah came through the door. She greeted Sarah brightly before setting the plate on the center of a large round table in a windowed breakfast nook. Uncle Matt was already seated with a newspaper open doing a crossword puzzle.
“An early riser, huh?” he said, looking up.
“I guess.” Sarah sat down at the table, which was laid out with pitchers of milk and orange juice, plates of bacon, scrambled eggs and ham, a few bowls of strawberries and blackberries, and several kinds of cereal. The center was like a raised dais that rotated so all of the food items were within easy reach. “Neat table,” she commented, spinning the middle around to grab a bowl, some berries, cereal, and milk.
“That it is,” Uncle Matt said, to which Aunt Rachel snorted. She had a pink apron over ratty jeans and a Tasmanian devil t-shirt and was brandishing a spatula in their direction.
“Don’t tell him that,” she grumbled. “His head’s big enough as it is.”
“You made this?” Sarah guessed.
“My dad was a carpenter. I actually went to school for engineering, but decided to settle down to a simple farm life after being convinced it was paradise by pretty girl.” He winked at Aunt Rachel when he said the last part and she rapped him lightly with her spatula, although she was grinning while she did it. He set the newspaper aside and grabbed a blueberry muffin from a plate Aunt Rachel set down.
“Neat,” Sarah commented politely. She spooned up some of her cereal. The berries were sweet and fresh.
Grandpa came through the kitchen door and gave everyone a gruff ‘”good morning.” He was dressed for labor, in jeans and a blue work-shirt. “I see you’re up and about with the chickens,” Grandpa observed. He took a seat across from Sarah.
Sarah nodded. She wasn’t sure what to think about her grandfather after yesterday, but he seemed nice enough this morning. His shock of white hair floated around his head like a mane of cotton candy and his light blue eyes seemed keen, but friendly. He filled a plate with bacon and eggs, while Aunt Rachel fixed herself a bowl of berries with honey and purloined two muffins before sitting down next to Uncle Matt.
“This is the early crowd of the day,” Uncle Matt informed Sarah. “Jessie won’t be up for at least half an hour, though I can’t imagine why anyone would laze about until the morning’s half gone.” He chuckled.
Grandpa asked, “Do your brothers sleep in? I know teenage boys tend to sleep the day away. Adam isn’t seen until nearly noon in the summer months.”
Though grandpa was smiling and cordial, Sarah hesitated to answer him. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what her brothers’ habits would be. She could make some guesses, but did grandpa want honesty or was he just making conversation? She supposed they would find out regardless, so she took the honest approach. “Tyler might be up, but he might not come down for a while. Benji is probably still sleeping and, will be,” she added, “until someone gets him out of bed.”
“Hmm .. .” Uncle Matt looked thoughtful. “I’ll tell Jesse to check on them both after she has breakfast. Don’t want to horn in on their rest, but the day’s too beautiful to waste.”
Sarah wasn’t quite sure what she expected, but after months of having to regulate and reinforce her brothers’ school schedule (they still tended to be late more often than not) she was relieved that it didn’t seem to be a huge deal. Breakfast continued with Grandpa asking her questions while he dug into his eggs.
“Your father said you were a gymnast,” he began, “but else do you like to do?”
Sarah answered in the past tense, since it had been some time before she’d done anything except look after the house. “I used to run track, too,” she told her grandfather. “I guess I like to read and I can draw a little. I’m pretty boring,” she hedged.
Grandpa was looking at her shrewdly. “I very much doubt,” he said, “that you are boring.” His manner made Sarah feel slightly uncomfortable and she was glad when Aunt Rachel interjected a question.
“How did you like the soaps and shampoos in your bathroom?” she wondered.
“They were great,” Sarah replied enthusiastically. “They all had handwritten labels and I thought they might be homemade?” She turned her statement into a question.
“They are,” Aunt Rachel answered. “We make them here. Well, mostly I make them,” she added pointedly. She gestured vaguely outside with a coffee cup. “That’s what I wanted to show you today. I commandeered a space in the stables years ago and use the flowers and fruits from the garden to make them. We sell them in a few shops in Durango and Grand Junction, and I take orders from some of the ladies in town, too.”
That actually impressed her and Sarah said as much to her aunt. Aunt Rachel looked pleased and when Sarah finished her breakfast, suggested they go take a look. “I doubt your brothers will be interested,” she said. Sarah doubted it too.
As they stood and took their bowls to the sink, Jessie came into the kitchen. Aunt Rachel told her she was taking Sarah to the stables and asked Jesse to check in on Benji and Tyler if they didn’t come down for breakfast.
“No problem,” Jesse mumbled. She sat down in Sarah’s vacated seat and piled eggs and ham onto a plate with gusto. “If they’re not down by the time I finish, I’ll hunt them up, okay?” She looked to her parents for consent and they both said that was fine. Aunt Rachel then shuffled Sarah out a back door and into the early morning sunshine.
The backyard was huge. There were blooming hedges around the back of the house and a huge patio with a table set and a grill near the pool area. Beyond the patio were a large, gray tinged barn, and two small ponds and a few other outbuildings farther back. Aunt Rachel led her past the pond to a long, low red painted building, which she identified as the stables. She slid a tall paneled door to the side and entered the cool, dark structure.
“The horses are on the far side,” she said pointing to a big opening on the left, “and Matt’s workshop is in the back.” She walked through an opening on the right, “This side,”Aunt Rachel said, “is my workshop.”
Sarah thought ‘workshop’ was an understatement. The room contained a line of stainless steel countertops along one wall that had a large six-burner stove on one end and an industrial sink on the other. Pots, pans, bottles, and jars of every shape and size lined shelves on another wall. The far right wall had another sliding door that was half open letting in sunshine from a small herb garden. Above her, Sarah saw flowers and plants hanging from the rafters. Drying, she supposed. Aunt Rachel opened a cabinet near the shelves to show Sarah bins of dried citrus fruit, spices, and flowers. The finished products were stacked and grouped on a pair of big round tables in the center of the room.
“This is really sophisticated, Aunt Rachel,” Sarah admitted. “Do you really sell all this stuff?” she asked as she began poking around.
Her aunt answered in the affirmative. “It actually makes a tidy profit. People like that its homemade and organic. Some of the celebrities up in Telluride send me orders and I can pretty much charge what I want.”
“How did you get into this?” Sarah was curious to know.
“I made soap with my mother for a long time and we started experimenting with scents when I was about your age and just never stopped. After Jessie was born, I decided to see if I could make any money off my little hobby and set up a booth at the county fair. I sold out in two days,” she explained proudly. “I gradually learned how to make more kinds of stuff, learned to extract the oils and make the bath salts and shampoo, and it just took off. Now that we have the internet I get orders from all over, not just local people.” She sighed fondly over a few tins of soap. “It’s really just something to do,” she said, “I never thought I’d be making money at it.”
“Do you make a lot?”
“Sometimes we get a better
“I guess you would,” Sarah said. “Most people love natural beauty products and you’re right,” she added, “organic is in.”
“I thought maybe you’d like to learn and could help me a bit this summer,” Aunt Rachel suggested.
“Sure,” Sarah agreed with little hesitation. “It might be fun. Do you make anything besides bath stuff?”
“I’ve been experimenting with makeup.” Aunt Rachel pointed to a little desk in the corner stacked with books, note pads and a few jars and bottles. “That’s a work in progress, but I make lotions and creams, too.”
Sarah recalled seeing some jars and bottles of lotion in her bathroom cabinet. “Does Jessie help?” she wondered.
“Everyone pitches in now and then, but mostly I do it myself,” she answered. “The others help with boxing and shipping and lend a hand sometimes, but they’re not truly enamored of my little project.” Aunt Rachel patted a stack of boxes that a scrolling green label. It read, ‘Naturally Rachel’ on the side, which Sarah guessed was what her aunt had named the brand. “I thought maybe you might have more of an interest,” Aunt Rachel told her with a look that was both sly and friendly, as if she was laughing at her own cleverness.
It was pretty clever, Sarah thought. Everything she needed probably already grew on the property, most of it seemed simple to make, and Aunt Rachel made lots of money at it. Sarah liked the feeling of being surrounded by smells in the workshop. It was untidy and messy, but it sounded interesting and fun. Plus she’d always been a sucker at Bath and Body Works in the mall back home. If Aunt Rachel taught her, she’d be able to make her own stuff.
“Did you ever think about making body spray or perfume?” she asked hesitantly.
*****
Chapter 8: The Grand Tour