Wallpaper with Roses

by Jenny Andersen

  Sarah shook her head. She was having trouble believing the situation, too. Silence reigned for a while, broken after a few moments by a knock on the back door.

  “Now what?” Sarah said.

  “Macklin apologizing for having lost the last shred of what remained of his wits today?”

  Sarah laughed in spite of herself. “I doubt it.” She opened the door. “Oh. Hank. Christine’s not here, but come in.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s down at the free clinic, getting a checkup,” Sarah said, taking pity on him. “If you go by there, maybe you can give her a ride home.”

  “Thanks, Sarah,” Hank said, and jogged back to his car.

  “Well, returning to the subject at hand,” Beth said, “I guess you’re in business for yourself now. That’s not all bad. But I’m going to be so lonely without you in the next office. Just hurry up and get enough business that you can hire me.”

  “Nothing I’d like better. But don’t hold your breath. Macklin has all the business in this town sewed up tight. It could take years for me to pull in a living wage. I’m going to go down to the Dixie-Belle tomorrow and see if I can get a job.”

  “You absolutely are not,” Beth began.

  “Ooo, that sounds interesting. What isn’t she going to do?” Violet pattered into the kitchen, her head tilted to one side like an eager bird spotting a worm.

  Hilda followed, walking with a slow and painful step that hurt Sarah to watch. “Sarah isn’t going to do anything rash.” She sank into a seat at the table. “Hello, Beth.”

  “Hi. Miss Hilda, you’ve known Homer Macklin for a long time. Do you have any idea what possessed him to do such a dumb thing?”

  Sarah’s mother glanced from Beth to her daughter and back, a quick furtive shift. Sarah’s heart sank when she wondered if her mother had already forgotten the talk they’d had only an hour ago.

  “Why no, I don’t think so,” Hilda said after a fraction of hesitation.

  Beth shook her head. “He’s a jerk, but this is Sarah’s big chance. It’ll all be for the better.”

  “Of course it will,” Hilda said.

  She sounded positive, but the fear in her eyes struck Sarah like a fist. Her mother deserved love and happiness, not financial worries. “We’ll be fine, Mama.” she said. “Don’t worry.” But underneath, she silently cursed Homer Macklin for causing that fear.

  “I won’t, dear,” her mother said bravely.

  “I will take care of you,” Sarah vowed, promising in her heart that she’d do whatever it took to keep her mother happy and comfortable. No matter what. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

  “Don’t look so fierce, dear. I have some savings, and Social Security, and that annuity, and I know you’ve been saving to start your own business. So Homer’s silliness will be to your advantage, really.”

  In the long run, yes. But all the money she’d counted on for the start-up had gone into the new roof, and there were bills even now lying on her desk, staring at her with accusing postmarks every time she walked into the room.

  What were they going to do? The words circled her brain like a hamster on a wheel. If she’d lain awake nights worrying about money before now, and she had, the worries would be twice as big and fierce in the coming days and nights.

  “Sarah?”

  She looked up at her mother’s voice.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  Her mother smiled. “I thought you were day dreaming. Violet was asking if we minded if she had Miranda over for tea tomorrow.”

  “You know we used to have tea together every week,” Violet said. “One week at her place, the next at mine. I’d like to start doing that again. It helped me keep the days of the week straight, to have a regular appointment like that. Although of course, her apartment was so much nicer than mine, and she has real china, sets and sets and sets of it, but she doesn’t seem to mind using my same old Lenox tea set.”

  “Of course it’s all right with me,” Sarah said when Violet finally ran down and looked at her expectantly. “But it’s Mother’s house, you know. She’s the one you should be asking.”

  “You were off in la-la land, weren’t you, dear?” Violet giggled. “I just asked her, and invited her to join us. And now that you don’t have to go to that nasty office, you may join us too. We’ll have a real little party. Won’t it be wonderful?”

  You bet. Just what she most wanted to do. Sarah smiled back at Violet. “Sounds lovely.”

  “And Beth, dear, you must come too,” Violet added.

  Beth shuddered and Sarah nearly laughed out loud.

  “Thank you, Miss Violet,” Beth said. “But I’ll have to be at work.” She rose. “If you all will excuse me, I’d better get home now. It’s been a long day.”

  Sarah got to her feet. “I’ll walk you out to the car.” She didn’t say anything until they’d reached the front porch and she’d shut the door. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sounds like you’ll have a barrel of laughs tomorrow. That party should be as much fun as the morgue.”

  “What makes you think I’ll be there? They can do tea without me.”

  “Smart. Imagine all afternoon with old lady gossip. And Mrs. Hogbinder is the most unpleasant old bat. At least there won’t be any men there. I heard she practically attacked the new banker’s son. Rob had better watch out.”

  “Maybe she’s just lonesome?” Sarah said without much hope.

  Beth snorted and climbed into her car. “And maybe pigs fly. Call me,” she said, and backed out of the driveway, leaving Sarah gazing after her and wondering how people could be so complicated.

  She didn’t have time to worry about Beth, or to wallow in self-pity. She’d better put away all the stuff she’d brought home from work, organize her home office, and start making some money. She was in business for herself now, just as she’d dreamed. In business with no clients, no business plan, and no start-up money.

  A real dream come true.

  Chapter 11

  “Thank you, Sarah dear.” Violet set the cup of tea on the table beside her and selected a cookie from the plate Sarah held. “Isn’t this lovely, Miranda? I don’t have to keep hopping up and down, thanks to this lovely girl. But you should sit, Sarah. You’re not a servant, after all.”

  Sarah glanced at Miranda Hogbinder’s grimly set mouth and fished for a polite comment. Her plans to be elsewhere had crumbled and here she was, taking tea with “the girls.” Before she could say anything, Hilda clumped into the room pushing the hated walker in front of her. Sarah helped her to the sofa, poured her a cup of tea, and sank into a nearby chair.

  “Thank you, dear,” her mother said. “Have you put the animals out? You know Miranda doesn’t care for pets.”

  “In my room,” Sarah said through gritted teeth.

  “How delightful. We’re all here,” Violet chirped.

  “That girl you took in ought to be serving, not you,” Miranda stated. She fixed Sarah with a pale blue stare.

  “She’s napping,” Sarah said, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “She needs extra rest these days.”

  “Yes, her condition. Shocking,” Miranda pronounced. “The nerve of the girl. What were you thinking, Hilda?”

  Sarah bristled, but before she could spring to her mother’s defense, Hilda replied in a gentle voice, “That she needed a friend, and some assistance.”

  “And she’s a lovely girl,” Violet twittered. “Such a help in so many ways.”

  Sarah sneaked a look at Miranda, who looked as if she’d bitten into a worm, and remembered that Miranda’s two children had fled years ago. She hadn’t had any help from them. Sarah wanted to feel sorry for her, alone as she was, but she just made it too darned hard.

  “As is Sarah,” Hilda said. “I don’t know what we would do without them.”

  Miranda scowled when Hilda said ‘we,’ but Hilda led the conversation smoothly into a discussion of an upcoming program at the ch
urch before she could say anything.

  Tact, thy name is mother, Sarah thought. She set her cup and saucer on the coffee table and leaned back to watch the three older women.

  A more diverse group would be hard to imagine. Her mother, so calm and ladylike, never showing extreme emotion, a woman everyone respected.

  Violet, twittering and ditzing her way through life as though nothing touched her, enjoyed by everyone.

  And Miranda, queen-bee-ing around town just as though the Crowleys still owned everything, the woman no one liked.

  If Miranda were her mother, would she have been willing to do so much, to give up so much for her? The answer should be yes, child’s duty and so on. She was pretty sure the answer would have been no, and that didn’t help her self-image.

  She wished for a moment that she could be inside each of those heads to see what they really thought about getting old. The conversation swirled around her as she looked at each in turn.

  She knew her mother hid a lot of fear, and it cut her deeply to know that she couldn’t provide a feeling of security.

  But what went on under Violet’s explosion of gray curls? Did she have any idea how lucky she was to have Rob? Rob was a rock, a solid man anyone could depend on. Dependable and gorgeous. Sarah sighed. Lucky, lucky Violet.

  And did Miranda have any idea that she was universally dreaded and disliked? Did she care? She had no one. Well, except for Sarah’s mother and Violet, who inexplicably seemed to like her, no matter how much they complained about her. But didn’t she ever get lonely? Scared?

  Sarah knew that when she got to her mother’s age, she’d be terrified because there’d be no one to care for her. She’d be alone. Alone and confused and at the mercy of people like Ms. Festerson and Miss Harkness, in a world where all the rules had changed. She shivered.

  Christine slipped into the room. “Are you cold, Sarah?” she whispered. “Do you want me to get you a sweater?”

  Christine had already gotten the message about things that cost money. Don’t leave lights on except where necessary so little old ladies don’t fall. Don’t take the elevator if the stairs would do. Don’t turn up the heat unless one of the moms requested it.

  Sarah shook her head. “Just thinking.”

  Christine grinned. “Bad habit. Shall I make more tea?”

  “Good idea. And are there any more macaroons? They’ve pretty well demolished this plate.”

  Christine took the teapot and cookie plate and melted out of the room.

  “You’re training her very well, Hilda,” Miranda said. “She’ll make a fine maid for someone.” Her eyes were bright with greed.

  Right. Like Christine was going to hire out as a maid.

  Which brought up another problem. What was going to become of Christine? Stop. This was so not the time to worry about that. Sarah tuned back in to the conversation.

  “...suppose I’ll have to let my maid go when I move,” Miranda was saying.

  “Oh, have you found a new place?” Violet asked. “I do hope you find something as wonderful as I did. I just love it here. My room is so gorgeous. That wonderful wallpaper with the roses is perfect. I feel right at home. And it’s one of the real historic houses in Crowley Falls, you know. I feel as though I’m part of history when I walk through these rooms.”

  From the look on Miranda’s face, she did know. Sarah suppressed a snort. The well-known feud between the Gaults and the Crowleys had started in Gold Rush times, and Sarah wasn’t sure it was over yet. She certainly didn’t care, nor did her mother, but one could never be sure of Miranda.

  Miranda had always considered the Crowley mansion to be head and shoulders, or roof and chimneys, above the large, comfortable Gault house. It had been the town’s showplace until it had burned down twenty years or more ago. Sarah had been living in Kansas City trying to be happily married, but her mother had written all the details.

  “So nice that you’re content here, Violet,” Miranda said.

  She didn’t really sound pleased at all, Sarah thought. If only she weren’t such a prickly person, they could invite her to move in and their financial woes would be over.

  “I’m still looking for something suitable,” Miranda continued. “I’ve been considering buying a house, but I don’t really want all the work that would go with it. Really, you know,” and she looked down her nose in that obnoxious I’m-accustomed-to-the-best-and-you’re-not way she had, “If only there were a really decent apartment building in town, I’d be happy to buy a penthouse.”

  “Oh, goodness, Miranda,” Violet said with one of her titters. “You haven’t found anything yet? I think every apartment in town has been rented already. Such a rush, you know, when we were evicted.”

  “We were not evicted, Violet.” Miranda drew herself up and looked down her nose at Violet. “We were told that the building was to be destroyed. And I cannot believe that my banker did not inform me of this nefarious plot. But then, he’s new in town, and I suppose one can’t expect real service from an outsider.”

  An uncomfortable silence greeted this statement, and Sarah wondered if her banker told Miranda details about his other clients. Or if his failure was revenge for that incident with his son. His son, who had suddenly been enrolled in boarding school and wasn’t around town these days.

  “But what are you going to do?” Violet asked. “You’ll have to move in a couple of weeks. They’ll have those great big bowling-ball things crashing right through your living room wall whether you’re there or not.”

  “I am well aware of that.” Miranda sat a bit straighter and put her nose in the air. “I have been considering all the possibilities. I would really like, I think, to live in a house again. I am a bit tired of the apartment house milieu.”

  Sarah swallowed a snort. Oh dear me. Perhaps Buckingham Palace would do. Oh, but that’s not in Crowley Falls. No, be nice. She’s a poor—well, a rich—old lady with no one to care for her. What else does she have but her pretensions?

  “But you don’t want to buy. Very wise, I think,” Hilda said. “I know that the upkeep here drives Sarah to distraction at times.”

  “But it must be so much easier here, when the burden is shared,” Miranda said.

  Oh my God. It hit Sarah like the proverbial ton of bricks. Of course. Miranda was angling for an invitation to move in.

  But why would Miranda want to live here? Sarah stared at her, fascinated as a snake watching a snake charmer, and realized that it was simple. Miranda was lonely.

  “Oh, Miranda, don’t be silly,” Violet tittered. “I don’t share any of the work. Hilda, and Sarah, of course, are just doing me the greatest favor by letting me live here.”

  “But you must pay them something,” Miranda said, making a kind of question out of it.

  “Well, I share expenses, of course, but it’s not like rent, or anything, because I don’t know how legal that would be, and I certainly don’t want to get Hilda and Sarah in any kind of trouble when they’re doing me such a favor, and it’s really so wonderful to be here. And I can give them extra money as a non-taxable gift. Rob explained that all to me. So you see, it all works out.”

  “I see.” Miranda’s scowl deepened.

  Sarah frowned and wondered if Miranda had planned to blackmail her way in if all else failed. The thought wiped out some of the pity she’d been feeling.

  “Oh! Hilda, Sarah, you must say if you thing this is a bad idea,” Violet burbled. “But why couldn’t Miranda move in here? There are several empty bedrooms on the second floor, and an extra bathroom, and oh, Miranda, wouldn’t it be delightful to have you here? Just like the sleep-overs we had when we were schoolgirls. I know you’re looking for someplace more elegant, but this really is quite comfortable, and it’s so wonderful here...” Violet ran out of breath and looked around with wide eyes.

  The silence that followed was anything but comfortable. Sarah closed her eyes, imagining Miranda in the house twenty-four seven. No. No, no, a thousand times no. But th
e money... She opened her eyes and looked at her mother.

  “Well, that certainly is an idea, Violet,” Hilda said. “But Miranda is used to far more luxury than she would find here.”

  “This is a very comfortable house, Hilda,” Miranda said. “Nothing like Crowley House was, of course, but quite one of the nicest homes in Crowley Falls.” She did that looking-down-the-nose thing again, the one that drove Sarah up the wall. “Very comfortable indeed.”

  After an uncomfortable pause, Hilda said, “Miranda, do you actually want to move in here? You’ve never had a kind word to say about this house, as I recall.”

  Good Heavens. Was Miranda blushing? Hard to tell under all the powder on her face, but Sarah thought she just might be.

  “Perhaps I was a bit hasty, Hilda,” she said now.

  Sarah was afraid she would choke on the words. It was the closest thing to an apology anyone had ever heard from Miranda Hogbinder. “But what about Fred and Casey? They are part of the family here, you know.” She looked up and met her mother’s gaze. Damn Violet anyway. They should have had a chance to discuss this. At length. In private.

  Hilda raised one eyebrow.

  “Fred and Casey? Oh, yes.” Miranda paused and Sarah thought she looked uncertain. “But of course they are. Such well-trained animals are a joy to be around.”

  Sarah swallowed a snort. When she’d come in, Miranda had whisked her skirt away from Casey as though the dog were rabid, and she’d walked a wide circle around Fred.

  “Of course I would expect to make a small contribution to expenses. Not rent, of course, but...” Miranda named a figure that sounded like a small fortune.

  Sarah thought about the pile of bills on her desk, about the new stack of bills that would come with Christine’s baby. “It’s your decision, of course, Mama,” she said, but she nodded. Just a tiny tilt of her head, and just once, but enough to seal their fate.

  “Of course you’d be welcome, Miranda,” Hilda said. “And if you’re not comfortable here, you could find something better at your leisure.”

  “How very kind of you, Hilda,” Miranda said. “Do you know, I think that is rather a good idea. Yes, I believe I would like to come here. Just as a trial, of course.”