by Delia Parr
“I told him just to fill in the hole. We won’t be needing a lock anymore.” Andrea gave up with the knot, got a pair of scissors from her drawer and snipped the string. When she lifted the lid and looked inside, her mouth began to water. She was also surprised to see there was a message written in pale yellow icing on top of one of McAllister’s giant, cream-filled crumb cakes. The message made it clear Doris had not brought a peace offering:
We did it! We have a sale on Locust Street!
She looked up at Doris, but she did not know what pleased her more—the sale of the house on Locust Street or the fact that Doris had used the word we instead of I. “They bought the house?”
With a proud smile on her face, Doris held up a signed agreement of sale that had two sets of signatures, the buyers’ and the sellers’. “Signed and sealed, but not delivered yet. Settlement is set for October tenth. We really do make a great team, don’t we?”
It took a few seconds for Doris’s announcement to really register in Andrea’s mind. “How on earth did you get all this done in a matter of hours?”
Doris tossed her briefcase on top of her desk. “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“My help?” Andrea chuckled. “Being late could have cost us a client and a sale. You were the one who saved the day, met the client, showed the house…and three hours later, you’ve not only got the buyer and seller to agree on a price, but a signed agreement, too? I’ve never had that happen so fast.”
“You made it easy for me. All the obstacles that normally slow down the process, like a report from an independent house inspection to a termite inspection? You had them all done and ready to show the client. He was impressed, I must say. It didn’t hurt that the sellers happened to be home, either, so I just drove over and got everything signed. We still need to get each of them their copies, though. I was so excited, I stopped at McAllister’s and had them make this up. I don’t care much for cake, but this cream-filled crumb cake is almost sinful.”
“You’re amazing,” Andrea murmured, and she meant it.
Doris looked at her warily. “Are you feeling okay?”
Andrea nodded. “Actually, I’m feeling like maybe we should have a talk while we dig into this crumb cake.” She rifled through her drawers looking for the leftover paper plates and plastic utensils, but came up empty.
Doris, however, ran across the street to The Diner and came back carrying a tray with real plates, stainless-steel utensils and two glasses of iced tea. “Caroline said to tell you to stop in sometime early this afternoon. She said something about the meeting for the Shawl Ministry. She needs to see you before you go.”
Andrea grimaced. “I forgot about the meeting. I’ll take the tray and glasses back then.” She cut a generous serving of the crumb cake for each of them, scooped a forkful of the cream by itself, and let it melt in her mouth. “You’re right. It’s almost sinful.” She enjoyed a bite of the crumb cake, then set her fork down. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she began.
Doris set her fork down, too. “About the office?”
“Yes. When we first started working together, I think I made it very clear that the position was temporary. I feel a little awkward—”
“You’re right. You did, and if I recall correctly, I also said I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to work full-time. It’s okay, really. You’ve been back on your own two feet again for a few weeks. I’ve been expecting you to tell me any day that you didn’t need for me to continue any longer. I’d like to take next week to tie up some loose ends, if that’s all right with you.”
“No, it isn’t. A week wouldn’t be nearly enough time. I was thinking of a bit longer, somewhere in the neighborhood of at least a year or two. Even longer, if you’re interested.”
Doris cocked her head. “You want me to stay…permanently?”
“I do.”
“But you—”
“I know. I’ve been really cranky, as my sisters have been quick to point out to me. I’d like to blame it on a lot of things, but mostly, it’s just plain been my fault, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you. First, to apologize.” She held up her hand when Doris tried to interrupt. “Second, I know we have very different styles when it comes to paperwork. At first, I thought you were just totally and hopelessly disorganized, but now I know better. Your desk might be chaos, but it’s an organized chaos. I don’t know how you do it, but you know precisely where everything is in that…mess. Unfortunately, I’m your classic fussbudget. I can’t operate on full steam unless I have complete order.”
Doris smiled. “Type A, superachiever. I know.”
Andrea chose not to respond. “Third, and this is really important, you really know your clients and you work very hard for them and for me. I’d really like you to stay because we balance one another well. We make a good team.”
Doris beamed. “We do, don’t we? To be honest, I told my sister, Betty, that I couldn’t wait much longer. I was going to flat out ask you if there was any way I could stay. Begging was on my list, too.”
Andrea’s eyes widened. “You want to stay, even though I’ve been so cranky?”
“You had a lot to contend with after your accident.”
“I wish I could use that as an excuse, but I can’t,” Andrea murmured. This was definitely not an occasion that called for her to play the cancer card. She knew she should tell Doris about the time off she would need each month, but she was not going to use her condition as an excuse for her behavior or as a plea to get Doris to agree to stay, either.
Doris took another forkful of the pastry. “I do have a few conditions, though. Mostly they’re minor details, like setting up a little firmer schedule for floor time, that sort of thing.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“We have to change the office arrangement, though. That’s a must.”
Andrea sipped her tea and tried not to smile. “Really?”
Doris’ expression turned serious. “We make a good team, but we don’t make good desk mates, if you get my drift. You’ve got two perfectly good rooms set aside as conference rooms that get dusted more often than they get used while the front office is crowded with our two desks. If we both have clients here at the same time, which has happened, or one of us has clients and the other doesn’t, we can’t help but overhear one another, and some of that information is or can be confidential. If I stay, which I’d very much like to do, we have to move things around a bit.”
Before Andrea could respond, Jamie Martin walked in with three of his friends. If she had told Jamie the precise moment to arrive, she could not have timed it more perfectly.
He smiled at both of them. “Hey, Mrs. Hooper. Mrs. Blake. You’ve got some furniture for us to move?”
Andrea looked at Doris and grinned. “I told you we made a good team.”
Four strong teenage boys made the work look easy, but they were sweating hard by the time they finished rearranging the entire office. They left with cash in their pockets and smiles on their faces, and they also left behind some news Andrea had not heard. By the fifteenth of October, the skateboarders would have their own place in Welleswood Park.
While Doris tried to decide where to put her flower arrangement in her new office, directly opposite Andrea’s office in the other former conference room, Andrea took a tour and made notes of the surprisingly few changes that still had to be made. The wing chairs and coffee table that had once been scrunched together in the corner now occupied the space where the two desks had been and looked much more inviting. Andrea planned to use the former office as a reception area. She made a note to have another telephone jack installed and another electrical outlet. She already had someone in mind to hire as a receptionist, but there was no rush to do that today.
Her own office had been set up perfectly. No changes needed there. Doris’s office, on the other hand, would require some new office equipment. Andrea knocked on Doris’s door and waited to be invited inside. When she found
Doris on her hands and knees, she chuckled. “You don’t have to resort to begging. Just ask. What do you need?”
Doris blew away a wisp of hair that had fallen in her face, looked up and winked. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to help me find two of those peacock feathers for me. I guess they got knocked out in the move.”
Andrea looked at the arrangement and made a face. “How can you tell there are two missing?”
“There were twelve when I got that ugly flower arrangement. Now there are only ten.”
“Did you say ‘ugly’?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend to like that arrangement for another second. It’s ugly, awful, terrible, unattractive, tacky or ghastly. Take your pick.”
“But I thought you liked it.”
“When I stopped in the shop that day, the owner insisted that I take it as a ‘Welcome to Welleswood’ present. What was I going to do? Say no? I was so shocked, she talked me into buying the matching desk set and had it all wrapped up before I realized what I was doing. If she stops in, she’ll expect to see the arrangement. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
Andrea spied the two peacock feathers in the corner, picked them up, and stuck them back into the arrangement. “Wait here,” she said, went to the storage closet in her office, and returned with a large black plastic trash bag. “Put it in.”
Doris scrambled to her feet. “The arrangement? I can’t throw it out!”
“No. I agree,” Andrea said as she bagged it up herself. She pulled the yellow drawstring closed and handed the bag to Doris. “Take it home. If the owner stops in, which I highly doubt, tell her you’re getting so much more pleasure having the arrangement at home. You will enjoy it more, say, on a shelf in your sister’s basement?”
Doris’s smile was not slow in coming. “Yes, I do believe I will. You’re one smart lady, Andrea Hooper.”
“‘Too soon old and too late smart,’ to quote my grandmother,” Andrea murmured. Thinking of her grandmother’s quote reminded her of the one Madge had used last night. “Before I take the tray back, there’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.”
She closed the door behind her. If she and Doris were going to really make a good team, then she needed to be totally frank about her medical condition and the time off she would be taking for her checkups and monthly treatments. She did not want to broadcast the news, only share it with someone whose help she might need and who had earned her trust.
Chapter Thirty-One
With Doris handling the office, Andrea walked the tray back to The Diner, which was almost empty at midafternoon. She covered a yawn as she walked. After little sleep last night and a hectic morning, she had every intention to get in a good nap this afternoon. She had even thought about skipping the meeting for the Shawl Ministry. She still hadn’t mastered knitting, but Jane Huxbaugh depended on her for a ride home so she had little choice and settled on getting to bed early tonight, very early.
When she got to The Diner, Caroline was at the cash register. She took the tray but refused to take Andrea’s money for the beverages. “My treat. I insist. Consider it a celebration gift,” she teased with a twinkle in her eye.
Andrea groaned. If Caroline said one word about celebrating Andrea’s first date in years, she just might cry. She was that tired.
Caroline took one look at Andrea and laughed. “Don’t get all defensive. We’re celebrating the fact that you crossed the avenue safely this time. The last time you were here, you got run over by a skateboarder, remember?”
“Only too well. Yes, I suppose I should celebrate that,” she admitted with relief.
“You thought I was going to mention your date, didn’t you?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
“Well, I won’t say a word about it, but I did hear a lot. I guess you’re not interested in knowing what I heard, though. Too bad.”
Andrea let out a sigh. “Go ahead. After seeing half the town last night while I was waiting for Bill to pick up his orders, I had a strong suspicion we’d become the hot topic of conversation today.”
“Actually, I think you’re ahead. I’d say it’s about sixty-forty right now. Maybe a little better than that.”
Andrea lowered her voice. “Sixty-forty for what?”
“A second date, of course. Now I’m a God-fearing, churchgoing woman, like you are. I don’t bet, and I don’t gamble, even if some folks at the senior center do. But if I were a gambling woman and I wanted to add a few dollars to the pot they’ve got started, I’d put my money on you. That man doesn’t stand a chance…not if you decide to set your cap for him.”
“We had a date. One date. Let’s let it go at that,” Andrea countered. The very idea that some of the seniors had started a pool and were gambling on whether or not Andrea would have a second date with Bill did not sit well at all, especially knowing she already had that second date set for Monday night. She changed the subject. “Doris said you wanted to tell me something about the meeting for the Shawl Ministry this afternoon?”
“Right. You usually take Miss Huxbaugh home, don’t you?”
“Usually. Why?”
Caroline looked around as if making sure no one could overhear and leaned forward over the counter. “She didn’t want anyone to know, but she had her doctor call the thrift shop where she volunteers. Of course, by now, most everyone knows, but I don’t want to be the one who gets blamed for spreading the news, but for all it’s worth, I thought you should know so you wouldn’t be caught by surprise at the meeting this afternoon.” She paused and looked around again before continuing. “She’s had a stroke. They transferred her to the coronary care unit last night. Word is she won’t be there very long, either. She’s had a bad heart for years, and the stroke only made matters worse. I thought maybe you’d want to visit her while there’s still time. She’s got no family and what friends she did have…She won’t even let the pastor come. She made the doctor call him and tell him.”
“I understand,” Andrea whispered. She hardly considered Jane Huxbaugh to be a friend, and she doubted Miss Huxbaugh felt otherwise. Even so, Andrea did not want anyone to spend their last days on this earth alone, even someone as thoroughly miserable as Miss Huxbaugh had been for the past fifty years.
“Thanks for telling me. Do you know what hospital she’s in?”
“Tilton Medical Center.”
Andrea nodded.
“Just don’t tell her I told you,” Caroline requested. “If she surprises everyone and does recover, I don’t want her charging in her and yelling at me. It upsets the customers.”
“No, I’ll make sure I don’t. Thanks again,” Andrea whispered. She returned to her office and replayed her conversation with Caroline in her mind. She did not blame Caroline or anyone else for being afraid of Jane Huxbaugh. The woman had had one nasty attitude for years. She had been abrupt with Andrea on more than one occasion, but never outright mean.
Andrea felt no obligation as either the woman’s real estate agent or as her friend, which she was not, to visit her in the hospital. With all that was going on in Andrea’s personal and business life, she certainly had a perfect excuse now to go home and get the sleep she needed.
Except for her obligation as a child of God to comfort one of the children He would soon call home. Andrea remembered the vigil that she and her sisters had kept for Sandra, as well as the vigils for Kathleen and Mother and Daddy. None of Andrea’s loved ones had been alone in their last hours…and she could not let Jane Huxbaugh pass alone, either.
She went back to the office and explained to Doris that she’d be leaving for the hospital immediately.
Regardless of location or size or the wealth of the patients, there’s a distinctive smell in every hospital. It’s not the scent of disinfectant, disease or medical lotions. It’s the subtle blend of hope and fear, despair and optimism, as some patients fight to live just a little longer while others pray for death to come.
Andrea hated hospitals. Maybe hated was too strong
a word. She was trying not to hate anything these days, anyway. Hospitals made her feel…uncomfortable. Too many memories, too many times when she would have to rush to the hospital in the middle of the night or leave hours or days later, with yet one less family member here on earth.
When she arrived at the hospital, she went straight to the main visitors’ desk and signed in. She checked her watch to write down the time. It was one-fifteen.
The elderly woman behind the desk put down her magazine and checked the sign-in log, saw Jane Huxbaugh listed as the patient being visited and Andrea’s relationship listed as friend and shook her head. “Sorry. No visitors. Just got that written down in the book so I don’t have to look it up.”
“Doctor’s orders or the patient’s?” Andrea asked.
“The patient’s orders. Don’t blame me. I’m just a volunteer, and even if you wanted to visit, you couldn’t. It’s immediate family only in the coronary-care unit, and she doesn’t have any family. I wrote that in the book, too.”
Andrea dismissed the gentle reprimand, but she did not have to feign disappointment. “Oh, dear. That’s a problem, isn’t it?”
“Not for me,” the volunteer receptionist quipped, and turned her attention back to her magazine.
Andrea did not know whether to ask to see someone else in charge or to try to see if she could get the woman to bend the rules. She did know she was not leaving, not without seeing Miss Huxbaugh. When Andrea noticed the old silver cross pinned on the woman’s sweater, she decided to try persuasion. “I wonder if you might be able to help me,” she murmured.
“Not unless there’s another patient you want to visit,” the woman replied without taking her eyes from the article she was reading.
“No, but it’s very important for me to see Miss Huxbaugh. I could lie and say I was her daughter. I could even get very insistent and demand to see someone higher in authority,” Andrea suggested. “I’d rather just tell you the truth and let you decide if you want to help me or not.”
