Edwina
Page 20
Chapter 20
Two months passed. Her old life was there for the taking. And it was familiar and worn, just like her black flats, which she still wore. She’d had the shoe repairman put on new soles. Too bad I can’t renew my spiritual soul as easily, she mused one afternoon. It was already the last week of July. Soon the Michigan autumn would set in, then winter. She wondered which stack of books she would start tonight. She had read voraciously since she’d returned home. It seemed the only remedy for her sick heart. She’d wanted, more than a dozen times, to write Bertie a note. But she didn’t dare open that door.
Cecelia had come home from Italy penniless, except for a trunk, which still sat unopened. Her father had given her all his money through the years and was broke when he died. She returned distraught; any income she hoped to have from her father was gone.
Her sister’s entrepreneurial skills had dashed to the fore- front, however, and saved her when she became a television entity. In one fell swoop, Cecelia had managed to obtain her own design show and was even now planning to appear on Oprah, in Chicago, for all the world to see and admire. And with her perfect beauty and design savvy, she had rolled in the money without a bit of trouble.
Edwina almost admitted she was jealous. As she sat at her desk opening mail, wishing she were better at admitting her faults, her eyes fell on an envelope. It was from Scotland. The Gillespies!
She had completely forgotten she’d promised them a suite in one of Cecelia’s rentals. Oh dear! What to do? She grabbed the envelope and tore it open. They were coming in September. Would the offer still be open to visit Chicago?
On and on she read, the kind note mentioning their excitement to see their son and the fact that they, even at their age, were to visit the United States.
Something in her heart fluttered. Was it hope? She had made a promise to the Gillespies and with God’s help would keep it. She picked up the phone, then remembered Cecelia was off visiting the producer of Oprah for her future appear- ance. Edwina put the phone back in the cradle and finished opening the mail. She put the special envelope to the side.
Cecelia called, excited to share her news. “I’m not only going to appear, but I can bring two guests to the show with me. What do you think? I owe you after you took my Scotland tour,” she said sweetly.
Cecelia was not a sweet-talking person—unless she wanted something, which Edwina was sure she did.
“Oh no you don’t. I don’t have a television persona. Thanks, though. But I do have a favor I need to ask of you...” She winced, having just turned down a favor herself.
“What is it?” Cecelia’s voice changed, back to her normal businesslike tone.
“Well, I met a couple in Scotland, at the castle I told you about... and I told them you’d provide a room free of charge. Just for a few days. They wanted to come to Chicago, but didn’t have the extra funds.” Edwina talked fast since Cecelia had a penchant for not listening to anyone talk but herself. “I really do owe Alex Dunnegin the favor, Cecelia.”
“Oh, is that all? Of course, you must do your duty. What day will they arrive? I have plenty of rooms now that I’ve purchased the new building. And we will be ready with ninety-six new rooms by the end of this month,” she said proudly.
“Really?” Edwina was relieved. “I’m proud of you Cecelia. You’ve made your way even without your father’s income.”
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
Edwina remembered the day. “Yes, you did. Thanks for letting me have the room. I know you need to make the money to pay the mortgage. . . .”
“Think nothing of it. Did I tell you I negotiated an extra three thousand a month on my contract with the television show? Not to mention my appearance on Oprah will prob- ably fill my rooms to capacity, and I will be able to introduce my new design show.”
“How exciting, Cece. You really have done well.”
“Well, back to the reason I called. I need two take-ons for the show, and I thought of you first, Ed. Sure you don’t want to try it?”
Cecelia was the only one who was allowed to call her Ed. Besides, no one would ever be able to stop her anyway, so Edwina had let it go. “No thank you.” She said firmly.
“I’ll try to think of someone else,” Cecelia continued. “Hey, what about your two visitors? You say they’re coming from Scotland? That’s an excellent idea! I can attract trav- elers from overseas when they stop in Chicago. How perfect is that?” Cecelia’s brain was burning.
“I can ask. They might consider it.”
“Well, let me talk to them. I’ll get them on the show” she said squarely.
Edwina knew she would. “Let me get a hold of them. I’ll write tonight and mention it. Don’t hold your breath, though. Have some other ideas ready, okay Cecelia? I wouldn’t want to force them, you know. They’re very quiet people.”
“Of course.” Cecelia said the words, but Edwina knew she didn’t mean them for one second.
Later that night, sitting in bed with her best stationery, she wrote a letter to the couple and invited them to Cecelia’s Place, the new building aptly named for its owner. And as an aside, would they consider appearing on Oprah right here in Chicago as her sister’s guests from Scotland?
“Oh, that sounds real subtle,” She muttered, then folded the letter perfectly even at the corners and sealed it in the envelope. Lord, bless this letter.
Lately she could feel her heart again. Every day she wondered about Alex Dunnegin. Had he found someone? Could she have done the job properly? She would always wonder.
Edwina laid the letter aside and picked up a magazine. Flipping through and checking article titles, she decided she’d had enough real-life stuff and needed a good movie. Just this once, she would watch a two-hour movie and be late to bed.
Thumbing through the stack, she found The Count of Monte Cristo and pressed the DVD into service. Two hours later, she sat cross-legged staring at the screen. An innocent man accused of wrongdoing suffered terrible atrocities in prison for eleven years. God had provided a way out for the man, now called the Count of Monte Cristo. He first sought vengeance and then remembered his prison mentor’s words, “Do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence. God said vengeance is mine.”
The thought that we should make the most of our lives, came washing over Edwina like she was drowning. She sat on the sofa, unable to move and for the first time in her life
realized that she was wasting her life. Edwina sobbed into her hands, crying out to the Lord to make her life worthwhile.
Somehow during the night, she came to the conclusion that she needed some time off and called in using one of many available sick days.