by BL Miller
"Ronnie's her own person, always has been. She's always known what she wanted to be and where she was going."
"No, that's not I meant." Rose shook her head, trying to think of how to phrase her request. "Tell me about her. Something she did, something that happened to her, something about her."
"I'm not sure I should. You know it's the cardinal rule of housekeepers to keep what they see and hear private."
"Well you don't have to tell me her deep dark secrets, Maria," Rose chided. "Ronnie told me herself she was a hell raiser. I'm sure you must have a tale or two you remember. I'm sure she wasn't the example of a perfect child."
"Perfect? Hah!" the older woman laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a motherly way.
"Veronica was many things growing up but perfect wasn't one of them. That child had me running around more than her brother and sister put together."
"Oh, really? Do tell." Rose's eyes widened with expectation as she took a bite of her sandwich.
"Wait, let me get something to drink." Maria left and returned a minute later with a tall glass of soda and a coaster. She settled back into the chair and took a sip before continuing. "I remember a time when she was thirteen and her parents were out of town. Some friends wanted her to go to the mall with them. Now normally it would have been fine, but she had skipped school a few days before and her father grounded her while they were gone."
"What did she do?"
"What any kid her age would do, she snuck out. She went into her room and climbed out the window. I knew where she went, but there was no way I could go after her with Susan and Tommy in tow. He wasn't more than five or six at the time and a handful all by himself."
"So what happened?" Rose was listening intently, imagining a thirteen year old Ronnie slipping out to spend time with friends at the mall.
"She and a couple of friends of hers decided they wanted to try cigarettes. Well of course no store in the mall was going to sell three teenage girls a pack of cigarettes. Ronnie was tall for her age but still…. Anyway, they decided that if they couldn't buy them that they'd shoplift them."
"Oooh, did they get caught?"
"Not in the store. The silly girls were walking down Consaul Road smoking and wearing their school jackets. A policeman saw and picked them up."
"I bet you were furious."
"At first I was, but then I found out she took all the blame even though the cigarettes were found in one of the other girls' pockets."
"You mean she took the blame for someone else?"
Maria nodded and took another sip of her soda. "I didn't tell her father. I figured that being dragged down to the police station was enough to put a scare into her."
Rose sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought. It made perfect sense that Ronnie would try to protect others around her. She looked down at her broken legs and nodded. Always the caretaker, she thought to herself. "Maria, has Ronnie ever done something like this before?" She motioned at herself. "I mean, has she ever taken anyone in who had nowhere else to go?"
"Never," the housekeeper replied. Rose sensed hesitation on Maria's part and waited patiently for her to continue. "I was surprised when she brought Tabitha here and even more so when she called to say you would be staying. Ronnie is a very private woman." She looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it.
"I have a house to clean and you have some lunch to finish up. She'll be calling again soon." Maria stood up and retrieved the glass from the desk. "By the way, remind her Tabitha's appointment is tomorrow. They called today."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot." Rose looked around to make sure the feline wasn't around. "How long is she supposed to be there?"
"Just overnight," the housekeeper replied.
"Poor thing." The young woman's face took on a sympathetic look. "She won't even know what's going on. But I suppose it's better than letting her suffer through that heat again."
"Oh, don't remind me." Maria shook her head. "I was ready to throw her out in the snowbank with all that yowling."
"You weren't the only one. I thought for sure Ronnie was going to do it the night she wouldn't stop crying." Just then the subject of conversation sauntered in and jumped on the bed to claim her nap space.
"Enjoy it while you can, Missy," the housekeeper said to Tabitha, who responded by licking her paws and rubbing her ear.
"She's so cute," Rose said, reaching over to give the cat a pet.
"Cute, sure," Maria scoffed. "You try making dinner with her underfoot and tell me how cute she is." She leaned over and scratched Tabitha's head. "If you're a good kitty and stay in here while I get the mopping done I'll give you an extra cat treat before I go, how's that sound?"
"Oh, she likes that idea," the young woman said when Tabitha began to purr. "I'll keep an eye on her."
Once Maria left, Rose set the cordless phone on her lap and waited for Ronnie's usual after lunch phone call.
***************************
"There goes our bonus," Susan sighed before tossing the report back on Ronnie's desk. "I don't think I've ever seen a lower earnings quarter. Do you realize what a banner year it would have been without that?"
The executive opened the folder again, the numbers still incomprehensible. The losses in the Real Estate division were enough to make the entire year mediocre in terms of profit. Although all the members of the Board of Directors were family and knew exactly what was going on, the rest of the business world did not, and Cartwright Corporation had some serious explaining to do.
Ronnie ran her fingers through her hair and looked at her sister. "The whole year. He has wiped out everything we’ve done. You realize this is just the tip of the iceberg. What do you think those auditors are going to turn up when they go back to when he first took over?"
"You think he's been stealing that long?"
"No, the annual audits would have picked up something like that. When did he start missing deadlines and taking lots of time off?"
"I don't know…March, April maybe?"
Ronnie nodded. "Sounds right. He took that loan out in April." She picked up her mechanical pencil and rested the tip against her lips. The action had a calming effect on her, reminding her of the fair-haired beauty waiting for her at home. "I think whatever drug he's into he started doing back then. Probably crack or heroin."
"Crack? Ronnie, only junkies do crack."
"How do you think they became junkies, Sis? I don't think crack cares if the person is rich or poor so long as they have enough for the next bag, or hit, or whatever it is they do with it." She sighed and tapped the pencil rhythmically against her chin. "He needs help, Susan. Probably a rehab."
"That's pretty. When did you get it?" the redhead asked, changing the subject.
"Rose gave it to me for Christmas." Ronnie stopped tapping it and held it out to look at the marbled swirls of blue and green accented by a thin gold band. "It has a matching pen." Unbidden, a smile came to her lips, one that was not missed by her younger sister.
"So how's she doing?"
It was a subject they had not spoken of since the party and Ronnie looked at her sister in surprise.
"She's um…fine. Sees the doctor next week to have her casts changed. I think they're going to give her a short one for her right leg."
"Oh, that's good."
A silence fell between them. Ronnie usually could tell when her sister was just being solicitous but this time there seemed to be no hidden meaning, no secret agenda in her younger sibling's words. "Um…yeah. We stopped having her nurse come because she's able to get around pretty good all by herself." She paused and smiled. "The itching is driving her batty, though."
"Oh, I bet. Remember when you broke your arm? I don't know how many times Mother caught you trying to stick a hanger or a ruler down there to scratch." The redhead kicked her shoes off and sat down on the couch. "So, what did you get her? And come over here for a while. I'm tired of talking across the room."
Dark eyebrows raised. "Since when have y
ou wanted to talk about Rose?"
"I didn't say I wanted to talk about her, I just asked you what you got her for Christmas, that's all." Susan looked down at her fingernails, obviously avoiding her sister's gaze. Ronnie was hesitant to open up, uncertain about the sudden change of attitude.
"Some clothes and a couple of computer programs," she offered, making no effort to rise from her chair. "I didn't go overboard." The truth was that she had spent far more than originally planned, but the smiles Rose had given her were worth every penny.
"I didn't say you did, Ronnie." Seeing her sister was not going to join her on the couch, Susan stretched her legs out and let her stockinged feet rest on the far cushion. "Did she like them?"
"Yes, she liked them." The executive looked down at her pencil and smiled, turning the writing implement over in her hands.
"So things are going well between you two?"
"Susan, she's just a friend. I've told you that." She stared at the pencil for a few seconds before speaking again, this time in a lower voice. "It really is beautiful, isn't it?"
"It's very nice, Ronnie," the redhead agreed. "I guess it didn't take her long to figure out your habit for eating every pencil in sight."
"I don't eat them." A slight blush colored her features. "I bite them. There's a difference. I can't help it. I've done it since I was a kid and I'll probably continue to do it until I'm an old lady."
"Well Sis, I'm willing to bet you won't be biting that one."
Ronnie smiled. "No, it's too beautiful. Besides, I'd probably chip my teeth on it."
"You said it has a matching pen?"
"Yeah, right here." Ronnie reached behind her for the blazer resting across the back of her chair and fished the pen out of the inside breast pocket. "She even made sure it had blue ink instead of black."
"You know, I never saw anyone so particular about what color they write with." Susan rose and crossed over to the desk to get a better look. Ronnie reluctantly handed it over. "Oh, that is nice." There was silence for a moment before Susan handed the pen back. "I was thinking maybe Jack and I could come over some night for a visit. Nothing fancy--maybe one of those winter barbecues like you used to have."
"We haven't done one of those in what…two or three years now?" Ronnie shook her head. "I can't believe it's been that long."
"Well then, we should do it. It'll be fun and we'll get to meet Rose."
"You met her at the Christmas party, Susan," she pointed out. "As I recall, you weren't all that thrilled about it."
"Well…" A guilty look passed over the younger sibling's face. "Maybe I jumped to conclusions."
"Maybe you did," Ronnie agreed.
"So maybe I'd like a second chance," the redhead offered.
Silence fell between them for a minute before Ronnie reluctantly nodded. "We're right in the middle of the January thaw so this would be the perfect time for a winter barbecue."
"Exactly. I'll even leave the boys with the nanny so you won't have to worry."
"No, you can bring them. They haven't been over in a while."
"I'll bring their PlayStation over so they have something to do." Susan reached over and squeezed her sister's shoulder. "You know they love beating you up in that wrestling game of theirs."
"They still have that? I thought that was for that little black game system they had."
"Oh, they still have that one somewhere. They only use the PlayStation now. I just got them a new wrestling game. I don't know the name of it, of course."
"Doesn't matter. They'll have my guy on the mat in three seconds flat just like they always do, except Ricky. He likes to throw my guy out of the ring a dozen times and put him into a coma before counting me out." The sisters laughed, breaking the tension of the past few weeks.
"How about Saturday?"
"Sounds good. Excuse me." Ronnie pressed the button on the buzzing phone.
"Your mother on line two. Says it's urgent," Laura's voice said.
"Thank you." She looked at Susan. "Now what?"
part 8
Rose held the phone against her chest, debating for the fourth time in an hour whether she should call Ronnie or not. The executive always called her by two and it was now going on four. When the phone did ring, it startled Rose enough that she almost dropped it. "Cartwright Residence."
"Rose?"
"Ronnie?" A smile instantly crossed the young woman's face. The background sound of someone being paged for radiology was enough to wipe the smile away. "Where are you?"
"I'm down at Albany Med." The black-haired woman realized she was standing at the exact pay phone she had used the night of Rose's accident to call Frank. She shook the thought off as she heard her friend's voice come through the phone. "Oh sorry, lots of noise here. I'm fine, Tommy was in a car accident."
"Oh no." Rose's legs throbbed with the memory. "Is he hurt bad?"
"I don't know yet. The doctors are still with him and they haven't told us much. Apparently he lost control going around a curve and ran into a telephone pole. Hey, I've got to go. The police are talking to Mother."
"Okay, let me know what's going on, all right?"
"I'll call you later."
Once their good-byes were said, Ronnie hung up the phone and stood next to her mother, impatiently listening to the officer's words. "…excessive speed."
"Everyone speeds in that area," Beatrice snapped. "Perhaps if the State would take better care of the roads something like this wouldn't have happened," she said indignantly.
"The best roads in the world aren't going to help when the driver is intoxicated, Ma'am." The policeman pulled a note pad from his chest pocket and flipped to a page covered with writing.
"They found a dozen empty beer cans on the floor of the front seat. A breathalyzer taken at the accident scene showed his blood alcohol level twice the legal limit. You still want to blame the roads?"
Unable to protest and at a loss for words, Beatrice turned to her oldest daughter. The silent request was understood. It was time for the family caretaker. "Sergeant Mitchell," Ronnie said, stepping between the officer and her mother. "What happens to Tommy now?"
"After they get done stitching him up he'll be taken over to the County Jail and booked. If he gets there early enough, Judge Turner will set bail today, otherwise it'll be tomorrow." He shook his head. "I'll tell you this, Miss. If you don't get that fellow some help soon, you'd better plan on spending lots of time here." He put the pad away and took a step back. "He was lucky this time. There's something to be said for automatic seat belts and air bags. We could be looking at something far worse here than a few cuts and bruises."
"Yes, very lucky." From the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw Susan wrapping an arm around their mother, who looked torn between berating the officer and breaking down in tears. She understood her mother's struggle. This was a problem the Cartwright name and money could not fix. "Oh." She turned to the officer. "What about his car?"
"It's been impounded. We'll let you know when you can have it picked up. It's totaled, though."
"I want to see my son," Beatrice announced.
"Once they finish with him, he's going up to the jail. You can see him there once he's been booked."
"Sergeant," Ronnie gave him a soft smile, hoping to diffuse the tension in the air. "Would it hurt anything if she saw him for just a minute?" She saw him waver and moved in, lowering her voice so her mother wouldn't overhear. "I think she needs to see him now, not after they've cleaned him up, don't you?" He looked down at the floor for a second before giving a small nod.
"He's a mess, Miss. You need to get him help."
"I will," she promised.
"Just for a minute and I have to stay with you."
"Thank you." She turned to face her mother and Susan. "He's going to let us see him for a minute." As they moved to follow the policeman, Ronnie felt her sister's hand on her arm.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"No," Ronnie admitted. "But I don't think
hiding the truth from her is the best thing either. Maybe she does need to see him now, to see what he's doing to himself."
In her thirty-three years, Ronnie could only remember a handful of times when her mother had cried. No matter how much something upset Beatrice Cartwright, she kept it inside, a trait she passed on to her oldest child. Yet the sight of her youngest child in a hospital bed, his face bloodied and bruised, was enough to bring tears to the matriarch's eyes. He opened his eyes at the gasp and looked at his mother, his eyes taking a moment to focus before he let his head drop back down onto the pillow. "What'd they tell you?" he asked warily.
"That you had an accident, Sweetie." Beatrice walked over to the bed and took his hand in hers.
