Annie's Answer

by Hanson, Pam Andrews

  “My grandfather has lived with us for about ten years since he retired from the ministry,” she added. “Of course, there’s nothing the least bit fragile about him. He can run circles around people half his age.”

  “Pastor Williams is your grandfather?” Nathan asked, connecting her name with the minister who had instructed him in the faith when he was young.

  “Yes.”

  “I remember him. I like the minister we have now well enough, but Pastor Williams was the one who really made an impact on my life.”

  “That’s nice to hear,” Annie said.

  “I have to warn you, there’s nothing fragile or docile about my Aunt Mattie. She’s about as frail as a team of oxen. She can be cantankerous, willful, and just plain hard to get along with. Being tied down with a broken ankle hasn’t improved her disposition, and, of course, she spends most of her time fretting over her house. Being with her all day will be a big challenge.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” Annie said.

  He scrutinized her, wondering if she could stand up to his great aunt, when another question occurred to him.

  “Bonnie just took the ad to the paper this morning. How did you hear about the job before it came out?”

  She flushed, the high color attractive on her finely honed features.

  “I sell ads for the paper and saw it on the business manager’s desk,” she said in a worried voice. “I hope you don’t mind. Your ad missed the deadline for this week’s edition, so it won’t appear for another week.”

  He took a deep breath, feeling his options fade away. He could wait another week—and possibly not find anyone. That meant seven long days of phone calls from his aunt twenty times a day. It also put a damper on anything he might want to do outside the office, not that he had a steady girlfriend right now. If his aunt was alone all day, she would talk his ear off the minute he got home from work.

  “You must really want the job,” he said.

  “I need the money.”

  At least she was upfront about that.

  “I’ll pay a weekly rate.” He mentioned a sum that he hoped was generous, given how difficult his aunt could be.

  “That sounds great,” Annie said, looking directly into his eyes for the first time.

  He was a little startled to notice how blue they were, an attractive contrast to the rich brown of her hair.

  “If you need to run out during the day, that’s fine. Take whatever time you need as long as my aunt is happy. In fact, she may want you to drive her places. You can use my mother’s car.”

  “Does this mean I have the job?”

  “I guess it does,” he said, wishing he felt more confident in her ability to pacify Aunt Mattie. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  “No problem,” she said, sounding more animated than she had since coming into his office.

  “You’ll be on your own with her. When I’m not in court, I’m too busy in my office to come home and help you. It’s not going to be an easy job.” In all fairness, he had to give her a chance to change her mind.

  “I’m sure we’ll get along fine. Thank you so much!” She stood to go, but he still felt a twinge of guilt about leaving her alone with his aunt. It was like sending a bunny to tame a lion.

  “If you can come to the house by seven tomorrow morning, I can introduce you and show you some of the things she’ll expect of you. I have to be at the office early to prepare for court, but you won’t need to start work before nine most days. Aunt Mattie is an early riser, but she does well enough on her crutches to fix her own breakfast. The address is….”

  “I know the house. I guess almost everyone in town does,” she said.

  “The family’s been living in the same place a long time.” It was an admission, not a boast.

  Sometimes he wanted to live alone in a cabin in the woods. He planned to get a place of his own, but somehow he was always too busy—or too wary of hurting his mother’s feelings. She insisted their house was so large, she hardly knew he was there. It was true he had his own apartment in one wing of the Tudor house, but he was thirty years old and needed space of his own. He was fortunate to be a partner in his father’s law practice, and he loved the tempo of small town life. Not to mention that it was far too lucrative to consider giving it up. More and more lately, he wanted to strike off on his own, maybe do more pro bono work for people who couldn’t afford Sawyer and Sawyer. And the thought of starting a family of his own seemed more appealing now that he was out of his twenties.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

  “None that I can think of,” she said, picking up her bulky shoulder bag to leave.

  “In case you do, I’ll give you my number,” he said, going to the desk for one of his engraved business cards. “I’ll write my home phone and cell phone on the back. Call the office number during the day if you have any emergencies. Bonnie—Mrs. Johnson—can help you most of the time.”

  “I’m sure your aunt and I will get along fine,” she said, backing toward the door. “Does she like to play games? Rummy or Canasta or anything like that?”

  “I honestly have no idea,” he admitted. “She knits. That’s about the only thing I’ve seen her doing since she arrived. I know she isn’t a fan of television, and she doesn’t like music written after the 1950’s. Other than that, you’re on your own keeping her entertained.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find something she enjoys,” Annie said. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning at seven.”

  She backed out of his office as though she were leaving royalty, which did nothing to reassure him about her qualifications to take on his great aunt. He was afraid she was too sweet and mild mannered to handle Mattie Sawyer, but he needed someone right away.

  When she was gone, he stood and stared at the empty doorway, wondering how he could’ve overlooked her at church. It was a large congregation, but she had a radiance that would stand out in a crowd.

  His conscience still bothered him. He’d expected to hire someone closer to Aunt Mattie’s age, maybe a retired nurse or a moonlighting health care worker. Sighing deeply, he hoped for the best but wasn’t optimistic. He hadn’t overlooked the shadows under Annie’s eyes, signs she was already overworked. If Annie Williams lasted a week until his ad ran in the paper, he’d be surprised.

  Chapter 3

  Punching in at the pancake restaurant with three minutes to spare, Annie could hardly believe Nathan Sawyer had hired her on the spot. If she was reading him right, he didn’t have much confidence in her ability to keep his aunt happy, but that was okay. She had enough determination to succeed at any job that would make it possible to buy the flower shop. The salary he’d offered would certainly do that and more, even allowing a little extra start-up money if she could keep the job until Labor Day.

  “You look like you ran all the way here,” her co-worker Marie Donahue said as she pinned on the little starched cap the waitresses were required to wear.

  Looking at herself in the narrow mirror in the small employees’ lounge, Annie saw the bright flush on her face.

  “I guess I’m just excited,” she said.

  “About coming to work?” Marie asked in a droll voice.

  “No, I just got another job.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me to cope with our esteemed boss alone,” Marie said with mock horror. She was a vivacious blonde two years younger than Annie and was taking online courses from a university, hoping to get a real estate license some day.

  “No, I’ll be here through the summer,” Annie assured her, struggling to arrange the cap on her mass of curls. She really did need her mother to trim her hair. “I just got a day job working for Nathan Sawyer.”

  “The Nathan Sawyer? Are you going to work in his law office?” Marie tied the pink and white striped apron around her slender waist.

  “Nothing like that. I’ll be a companion to his great aunt. She lost her house in a tornado in Iowa and sprained her ankle.”

  �
��You’ll be working at his house!” Marie exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside. Do you think you can sneak me in some time, maybe when the aunt is sleeping?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Annie said a bit doubtfully. “The aunt sounds like she’ll be a handful, but if I can stick it out until the end of August, I’ll be able to buy Polk’s flower shop.”

  “Let’s get to work, girls,” Bob Hoekstra, the manager, said in no uncertain terms. “We have a party of four at booth seven, and Kenny is putting two tables together for ten customers from assisted living.”

  Marie moaned, and Annie hoped the busboy would help with place settings and water. She realized it was a treat for elderly customers to come for the evening special, pancakes with a choice of sausage or bacon and a side from the menu, but it was going to be a long evening.

  It was close to eleven when Annie quietly entered the house. Officially she only worked—and got paid—until ten, but Bob always insisted the waitresses set the tables for the morning crowd after he closed for the night.

  “You’re late,” her grandfather said, rousing himself from the recliner where he’d fallen asleep reading.

  “You didn’t need to wait up for me,” Annie said.

  “I wanted to hear how your interview went,” he said, pushing down the green upholstered footrest and getting to his feet.

  “I got the job.” She was too exhausted to celebrate, but she gave her grandfather the details.

  “I hope you’re not biting off more than you can chew,” he said, one of his favorite sayings about her multiple jobs. “Reminds me, can I warm some soup for you?”

  “All I want right now is sleep,” Annie said with a yawn. “I have to meet Nathan Sawyer at his house at seven tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s pretty early to start work,” Gramps said.

  “It’s only to meet his Aunt Mattie. Other days I can go there at nine, and the schedule is flexible. I should still be able to sell ads and help in the church office.”

  Her grandfather gave her a skeptical look, but blessedly he didn’t comment. She knew how hard it was going to be to balance all her jobs, but buying the flower shop was the opportunity of a lifetime. After an evening of Bob’s micromanaging at the restaurant, the chance to be her own boss doing something she loved would more than compensate for lost sleep and exhaustion. The Lord would give her the strength she needed to realize her dream.

  “Good night, Gramps,” she said, hurrying up to her room.

  After laying out her second-best jeans and a loose fitting turquoise tunic, she set her clock for six a.m. and literally tumbled onto the narrow bed she’d used since fifth grade. An hour in the morning would give her time to shower and have a bowl of cereal before driving to the Sawyer house on the other side of town. She prayed for those she loved as she did every evening and was asleep almost instantly.

  The next thing she knew, her alarm was ringing, a strident sound that made her grope to turn it off before it woke her mother and grandfather. The one good thing about Mom’s job was she didn’t have to be at the bank until 8:45. She liked seeing customers all day, but the pay wasn’t much better than what Annie made at the pancake place. When she had her own business, Annie hoped to contribute more to the running of the household, another plus if she could make a success of the flower shop.

  Fifty-five minutes later Annie parked in the circular drive in front of the Sawyer mansion, as residents of Westover called it. She couldn’t seem to stop yawning, but hopefully the meeting with Aunt Mattie would jolt her to full wakefulness.

  She could hear musical chimes when she pressed the bell, and less than a minute later Nathan opened the door.

  “Good, you’re right on time,” he said, ready for work in a lightweight beige suit with a coordinated dress shirt and a patterned brown silk tie. He was tall and slender, but his shoulders were broad under his tailored jacket.

  Yesterday she’d been too nervous about the interview to react to his good looks, but this morning it was obvious why he was the town’s most eligible bachelor. His sandy blond hair fell over his forehead on one side, slightly shaggy--maybe that was the latest style for successful young men. She met his eyes and couldn’t decide whether they were green or hazel, then he was ushering her into a foyer with a checkerboard pattern of black and white tiles on the floor. A broad carpeted staircase led to the second floor, and she could imagine sweeping down it in a full-length gown.

  What she didn’t see was her charge.

  “Aunt Mattie will be out in a few minutes,” Nathan said. “It’s too dangerous going up and down steps with her crutches, so we fixed up a bedroom on this floor. A live-in maid used it some years ago, but now we have a professional cleaning service that comes weekly. Let me show you the house.

  “This is the den,” he said, taking her to a paneled room with an ornately carved fireplace and a long brown leather couch with a pair of matching armchairs. “I’ve encouraged Aunt Mattie to spend time here because there’s a flat screen TV, but she’s no couch potato. You’ll learn her opinion of television programming soon enough.”

  “It’s very nice room,” Annie said as she admired the oriental carpet and landscapes hanging on the walls.

  “I’ll just show you the rooms Aunt Mattie might be using,” he said. “The kitchen is through this arch.”

  “Wow!” She put her hand over her mouth, embarrassed by her reaction. Her whole house could fit into the huge kitchen. It had stainless steel appliances and a flagstone floor, not to mention a scrubbed pine table with chairs for a dozen people. Enough pots and pans with shiny copper bottoms hung from the ceiling to prepare meals for a hundred people.

  “The floor is a little uneven, so I’ve tried to discourage Aunt Mattie from coming in here with her crutches. Good luck on that,” Nathan said, hurrying her into the formal dining room, an awesome room unlike any she’d seen in Westover. In the unlikely event the Sawyers ever needed another income, they could open an antiques shop with the contents there.

  He didn’t give her time for more than a glance, hurrying her to a sunroom at the rear of the house. It ran the length of that wing of the house and was furnished with vintage wicker furniture made comfortable with big floral patterned cushions in shades of green, yellow, and orange. She tried to identify the plants in huge ceramic planters, but Nathan didn’t give her time.

  “How lovely,” she said, looking through the screened windows on three sides. The garden was the stuff of her dreams. Several small ponds and a waterfall shimmered in the morning sun, and meandering paths were paved with large, flat stones. The colorful array of plants and flowers took her breath away, and she wished her job included caring for the meticulous beds.

  “Our gardener does a good job,” Nathan said, hurrying her out. “Aunt Mattie should be up by now. She’s an early riser.”

  After what he’d told her about his relative, Annie braced herself to meet a fire-breathing dragon.

  They caught up with her as she thumped her way across the kitchen on rubber-tipped metal crutches.

  “Aunt Mattie, this is Annie Williams,” Nathan said, nodding at the tall, slender woman.

  She stood ramrod straight, even on crutches, and Annie was a little surprised to see her wearing faded jeans and a brightly flowered cotton blouse, not the housedress she’d imagined on an Iowa farm wife. Her thinning salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her long face was creased by age and darkened by the sun. She had thin lips and a sharply pointed nose, but her features were more regal than homely. Her only concession to age was one clunky taupe-colored orthopedic shoe. Her sprained ankle was wrapped with an elastic bandage with her foot encased in a terrycloth slipper.

  “Does she make coffee? I see you didn’t put the pot on this morning,” his great aunt said, sounding a bit perturbed.

  “Annie will make it,” Nathan said, trying to sound patient but not quite succeeding. “We talked about her last night.”

  “My babysitter,” A
unt Mattie said in a disapproving voice. She turned and looked Annie up and down with laser-sharp eyes behind bright blue-rimmed glasses. “Kind of little, isn’t she?”

  “Small but mighty,” Annie said, determined not to be intimidated by the older woman.

  “Be nice, Aunt Mattie,” Nathan said. “Annie is here to make your lunch and keep you entertained.”

  “I’ll put the coffee on,” Annie said, hoping she could figure out the complicated new appliance on the counter.

  “None of those fancy flavors for me,” Aunt Mattie said. “I like coffee that tastes like coffee, not dessert. Black as sin and no sugar or nasty substitutes.”

  “I’m sure Annie can brew a good cup,” Nathan said, opening one of the many cupboards to show her a large assortment of beans and ground coffee. “I’ll be in court most of today, so you won’t be able to reach me. Is there anything I can do before I leave, Aunt Mattie?”

  “Just close the door on the way out,” the older woman said. “I’ve been on my own for nearly seven years, and I can take care of myself.”

  While Annie figured out the coffee maker, Aunt Mattie thumped to the front door for a few more words with Nathan. She didn’t know what he said to her, but his aunt looked a little less ferocious when she came back to the kitchen.

  “So, I guess we have to put up with each other,” Mattie said. “Have you done this sort of work before?”

  “I started babysitting with neighborhood kids when I was thirteen, but you’re my first senior,” Annie said, picking out the most traditional looking package of ground coffee. “Is this okay?”

  Mattie took it and read the label before giving her the go-ahead. “Real Colombian with none of those silly flavors added.”

  She sat down at the table and watched with eagle eyes while Annie measured the grounds into a paper filter and followed the directions she found taped on the inside of the cupboard door. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who found the black plastic coffeemaker a little confusing to use.

  Under Aunt Mattie’s watchful eyes, she was beginning to miss her babysitting days, even the time one of the Miller twins hit her over the head with a plastic bat.