by L C Kincaide
Emma studied the young man as they dug into their salads, and an idea began to form. He reminded her of another shy young prodigy.
“That was great.” She said done with her salad.
“Glad you liked it.“
“You know, until now, I never realized my mother was involved in charity work. She never took credit for any of her efforts nor talk about it. I was thinking of holding a fundraiser in her honor.”
“That would be very cool.” He said.
Encouraged by his reaction she continued. “How would I go about setting up an event like that?”
His smooth brow creased as he pondered her question. “You’d need a venue to accommodate the guests, a theme, I suppose and a catering service, if you wanted wait service or a buffet. A band would be good.”
“Wow, you seem to know a lot about it.”
“I’ve been to a few with the family. Some were more interesting than others. You’ll need to decide what you want it to feel like — formal or casual and give lots of time to set things up. And advertise, design and send invitations to people of influence. Then there are the not so fun aspects such as registration for tax purposes.”
“Oh, geez. That sounds complicated.”
“It’s only a process, quite simple when you make a list, and there are plenty of people who can help you with that in Marketing and I’ll guide you through the rest. Theresa Miller is someone you should meet. She’s been organizing functions for a while. I’m sure she’ll help. I’ll be glad to introduce you.”
“Really? That would be awesome!” Emma beamed with newfound enthusiasm surging through her. This was just what she needed; a way to feel useful and accomplish something worthwhile. She couldn’t wait to share her news with Matthew. Finally an opportunity for Elinor to be proud of her had presented itself.
“We can go now, if you like.” He said.
CHAPTER 5
~*~
Following her meeting with the event organizer, Emma was happy and excited with the prospect of a new venture, and more confident at being able to pull it off. She crossed the parking lot and opened her car door to let out the heat. It had been baking in the sun for most of the day and she didn’t want to enter a sauna to have cold air blast her in the face. While waiting, she checked her phone for messages.
OMYGOD!
She jumped inside and turned the key with a trembling hand. Rachel had gone into labor two hours ago!
Several disgruntled drivers later, Emma’s tires screeched to a halt in a parking space and she ran for the nearest entrance. The desk nurse directed her upstairs where she waited impatiently while another nurse consulted the monitor. Why hadn’t she checked for messages earlier? Because she had gone out of the habit since John. Damn! She would miss the main event she had been counting down to! Finally, the nurse pointed her down the corridor and Emma rushed in search of the room. No laboring mom was screaming from beyond any of the doors, but that didn’t mean anything. Her heart pounding with excitement, she hurried noting each room’s number.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside to a view reminiscent of the Nativity scene. In the filtered light streaming through partially drawn blinds, Rachel reclined on a mound of pillows smiling serenely at Matthew who held a tiny bundle in his arms.
“Oh! Is that…”
“It’s auntie Emma! Right on time!”
“But I missed the main event. I had the stupid phone turned off.”
“All you missed was a grunting woman. Not exactly memorable.”
“How was it?” Emma cringed expecting to hear a terrible recollection.
“Actually, better than I thought though I won’t be jogging anytime soon. Matt was awesome. He didn’t even pass out.”
“Good job, dad! Congratulations!”
He finally looked at her after sparing a fleeting glance when she first came in, so completely enamored was he with the baby.
“Rachel did all the work.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“Matt, let auntie Emma hold the baby. She’ll give it back.” Rachel turned to her. “Already I’ve been demoted in this family, but I don’t mind.”
Matt came around to the other side and with the tiniest hint of hesitation, he handed her the tiny bundle.
“I promise I won’t drop it.” She smirked at him holding the newborn close. He was so small, more blanket than baby in her arms, and just as she had dreamed, he had dark hair. The features were like his father’s, but she didn’t see the eyes because he was asleep. Watching the tiny face mesmerized her and she understood her brother’s attitude.
“Welcome to the family, little one.” She kissed the top of his downy head. He smelled so good!
“So what name did you choose?” She asked knowing the list was a long one of both boy and girl names because until today, neither parent knew which it would be. Only she had advance knowledge.
“We decided on Ella, for both her grandmother and her godmother. I think it’s perfect.”
Ella? What an odd name for a boy. “But that’s a girl’s name.” Emma said confused by the choice.
“Well, yes. That’s because she is a girl. Our perfect little girl.” Rachel said with tears pooling in her eyes. Matthew drew her closer, and she sniffled. “They warned me about this. Hormones.”
Emma grinned. “And what’s your excuse, Matthew?”
“I’m just insanely proud of them both.”
She was perfect. She. So what did all those dreams of a little boy add up to? The next child? It didn’t matter. Little Ella was here in her arms.
“You have every reason to be proud. She’s beautiful.” She handed the baby back to Matthew. “If you’ve ever wondered how you’d look as a girl with dark hair, you’re going to find out.”
“I thought she looked like her mom.”
Rachel and Emma exchanged glances and laughed. “No, she’s all you, my darling.”
Ella woke up and began to fuss.
Two days later, the new family was home. The quiet life they had all been accustomed to now revolved around the new addition who already had her daddy wrapped around her finger. Emma recalled Elinor talking about Matthew, and she had been right; he was a doting, patient father. Ella was lucky to have such good parents. It saddened her that Elinor would never know her granddaughter. She felt a familiar pang in her chest — it wasn’t her fault she was dead. Would she never stop questioning herself?
By the weekend, Rachel’s mother arrived, and as Rachel promised, her feats in the kitchen were unsurpassed. Magda also suggested they fire the cleaning woman. What was the point in paying someone if she had to clean up after her?
It didn’t take long for her to run the household with the efficiency of a seasoned general. Rachel was lucky to have such a devoted and seemingly tireless mother to help her, and she was a kind woman beneath the brusque exterior. Her thick Hungarian accent sometimes made her sound harsh, but when she spoke, to the baby in particular, it was in a way lyrical.
Magda would have been a good match in strength of wills with Elinor, but mum would not have fussed over them. She imagined she would have held her granddaughter, but probably no more than that. Elinor would not have changed diapers. And that was okay too.
“What are you thinking?”
Emma blinked at Matthew. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard him come down. She was alone in the living room having a quiet evening. Everyone had gone upstairs.
“I was thinking mum would have loved being a grandmother.”
“She would have. But not the diaper changes.”
“Funny thing, that’s where I drew the line for her involvement too.”
“The timing… but it’s not something any of us control. Maybe she knows wherever she is.”
“Yeah, ma
ybe.” If it gave him comfort to think that, who was she to spoil it? It was possible. They had already experienced what most people would consider as being impossible.
“I had an idea I was going to run by you before Ella took over our lives.”
It never failed for him to smile at the mention of her name.
“When I was downtown, I got the idea to hold a fundraising event like a Ball to honor mum and raise money for a charity.”
“That sounds amazing.”
Emma perked up encouraged by his response. “I haven’t worked out any details, but I figured we could call it the Elinor Everdon-Stuart Heart and Stroke Foundation, you know, for research. We could hold it in a ballroom, have food and music, that kind of thing.”
“Wow, you’ve really given this a lot of thought.”
“Some. Like I said, it would take considerable planning. I’ve met with a contact when I was downtown. She has tons of experience with these things.”
“That’s a great idea. How did you come up with this?”
“I found out mum was involved in a number of charities, but only in the background because of… well, you know. She never got public credit or anything for it though I’m sure she didn’t do it for praises. I think she deserves recognition for her efforts. And maybe you can make a speech being such a good speaker.”
“I’ve already been assigned a role, I see!” He laughed. “And I would be honored.”
Emma beamed. “I think it’s going to be great!”
“Yes, and you are going to be great.”
She went to bed that night content to be making progress in her life and to have something worthwhile and exciting to look forward to instead of dreading what comes next. It helped her too with letting go of everything that had happened with John since her trip to London. The dull ache she had held on to for too long was dissipating. Soon it would be completely gone and the next time they were face to face again, they could meet as friends like before. If it was possible for Elinor to know, Emma hoped she would have been proud of her daughter.
Before switching off the light, her eyes fell on the wilted blooms she was loath to throw away. It occurred to her she very much wanted to share her news with Adam. No, don’t go there, she warned herself. That was a road to certain grief. Pining for a man would lead to her undoing, especially that man.
Just the thought of him — rather being without him caused a tightening in her chest. Maybe he would find out about the Ball if he read about the event online. He may even call to congratulate her. And here I go spinning fairytales! A flick of the switch cast the room and the roses into darkness. Later that night, she dreamt of holding the dark-haired baby boy in her arms.
~*~
“Why did you think Ella was a boy?” Rachel asked. She had thought Emma’s reaction odd at the time, but it had slipped from her mind since then.
Emma wasn’t planning on mentioning it, but now that Rachel wanted to know, she may as well tell her.
“I’d dreamt for months about a dark-haired baby boy. Sometimes he appeared older, but mostly I saw him as a baby. I figured he must be yours.”
“Hmmm. I wonder where that came from? Do you suppose it’s like the ghost visions?”
“I don’t know.” Emma shrugged at a loss to find meaning behind the dreams. “I thought it was prophetic, which is why I never mentioned it. You wanted to be surprised.”
“We still would have been, considering. Have the dreams stopped?”
“No, I have it several times a week. Maybe the next baby…”
“Don’t say such a thing in front of Matt! If he had his way, I’d be back in production!” She laughed and winced. “Ouch! And I used to complain about my cankles! Lordy, the most sensitive parts of my body are under attack. Don’t let that sweet little face fool you — the kid has suction beyond belief!”
“You’re already a great mommy. You should have lots of kids and I will be their auntie.”
“Why would you think you won’t have a family of your own someday? Of course you will.”
Emma snorted. “Sure someday when hell freezes over given my track record with men.”
“Maybe you haven’t met the right one.” She thought for a moment. “Or the right one hasn’t figured out a way to be with you yet.”
Emma gave her a look. “No. That’s not going to happen and for a good number of reasons which I’m not in the mood to list.”
“Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”
“Good. I’m not ready for cankles yet.”
“Oh! Low blow!” Rachel laughed out loud and tossed a cushion at her. Emma ducked, and the pillow sailed past tipping over a pot of African Violets.
Magda appeared in the doorway, her hands planted on her ample hips and shook her head.
Emma and Rachel grinned at each other sheepishly. “Oops!”
CHAPTER 6
~*~
A week later, Emma was ready to move back to her apartment. Despite feeling at home with Rachel and her brother, the house was their home, and they were now a family. Her place was not with them though she promised to visit often.
She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bags. The apartment was as she had left it, quiet and unlived in and depressingly different from the vibrant and warm home she had left. Glancing around, nothing specific stood out she objected to; she had picked out her white leather couch and chairs, had decorated every inch herself with colorful prints hanging against a putty background. Maybe if she repainted it would feel homier.
Funny, the last time she was here with Rachel and they were having drinks at the counter following their session with Medium Mabel, the apartment had been more inviting despite the creepy event. Speaking of creepy, the box from the safe deposit box was still where she had left it and she put it on a shelf in the cupboard not ready to deal with it just then. The door closed on it with a hollow thud.
Since returning from England on her own, she had noticed a difference about her life, not anything discernible, rather a sense of aloneness, of drifting. Despite their differences, Elinor had been her anchor and following her sudden loss, she didn’t even have a sense of home anymore. Rachel’s suggestion that she take the penthouse was worth considering though it was probably too big for her. She imagined her furniture in place of Elinor’s then remembered she still had to deal with all of those things. How would she be able to get rid of her mother’s belongings? She could keep some pieces. Yes, that was a doable compromise. The living room had a fireplace and a terrace, never mind a great view of the river. But would it feel like home or the same as her apartment, familiar but without comfort?
She carried her bags to the washing machine and tossed her clothes in. Laundry was a good place to start. When the first cycle was underway, she checked her fridge not encouraged by the half-empty bottles of condiments and a jar of pickles, but rejoiced in the box of lasagna she discovered in the freezer, and preheated the oven. A bottle of wine from the cupboard completed the evening meal, and she set a place at the table. She had no flowers, but she found a taper and lit it for her first meal at home. By the time the lasagna was ready, she was uncorking her second bottle and careful to not burn her fingers, ladled out a heaping plate. A salad would have been nice, but that involved going to the store and she hadn’t thought to stop anywhere on the way home.
No reason existed that should cause her to be unhappy with her situation. She’d had many meals here on her own without getting bummed out about it so what was wrong now? What was happening to her? She should be excited about her future, and she was to a point. What the hell was going on? Were the dreams about the child getting to her? Was she feeling left out now that Ella was here? Nobody had wanted her to leave the house — that had been her decision. Maybe it wasn’t the apartment at all, but she, in which case, it didn’t matter where she lived
since nowhere would feel like home. Pushing away the lasagna, Emma dropped her face in her hands and wept.
Keeping herself busy was the only way to get through whatever had her in its grip. Dwelling on circumstances had never helped, so each morning she got ready and headed down to the Financial District. Now that she had a plan, her days were more interesting.
Theresa Miller was a capable woman not much older than her who could set things up for what was becoming in her mind a Gala Event of the year. Gray, who had been generous enough with his time, had returned to his domain focused on finances, legal matters and other aspects of corporate life she had no inkling about.
On her way up, she exchanged greetings and polite nods with men and women in smart suits feeling like an impostor despite having the right to be there thanks to her Everdon predecessors. They had all proved to be of sound business acumen dating to Mason who had started it all. They had all made wise investments, mostly in Realestate.
The only acquisition she questioned was the manor. What could she do with that pile of stones? Should she sell? Was the land more valuable with the building or without? She had little sentiment where the structure itself was concerned, and after her last two visits, even less now. It felt bad and looked worse. She could just imagine its state — derelict, abandoned and depressing beyond words.
On her way to an office Mr. Morrow had kindly offered for her use, she changed her mind and headed down the corridor leading to the executive offices instead. The entire floor of the building had an old world ambience rather like the interior of a Victorian men’s club with dark wood wainscoting. In contrast, this section with the Art Deco chairs lent the space a more modern feel. Perhaps Mr. Morrow preferred the straighter more simple lines to the extravagant curves and flare of the earlier styles. Members of the Board gazed at her from heavy wooden frames as she passed by. An immaculately turned out receptionist looked up when Emma stopped at her desk.
