“That’s nice.” The room fell quiet; I kept folding clothes. To make conversation, I asked if her mother was going to fly to Vancouver.
“No, she doesn’t like to fly.”
“Going by train?”
“No, by car.”
“I take it she’s got a good car.”
“It’s ten years old, but it runs good.”
“ Oh.” That told me more than she wanted me to know. If her mother was riding around in a ten-year-old car, all that flapdoodle Barbara had told us about her family being rich was just that—flapdoodle. Why, my Chevy was only twelve years old when it gave up the ghost. “Will your mother do the driving?”
“No. She doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
So that’s it—she’s looking for some birdbrain to drive her mother across country in a rattletrap that’s sure to be falling apart.
“Will you pray about it?”
“About what?”
“About going as a companion with Mother. Besides all your expenses being paid, you can name your own salary.”
Yeah, right, I thought. Or else she’s planning to pay with drug money. “Barbara, I appreciate your wanting to help me out, but I’ll manage. I don’t know what the Lord has in store for me, but something will turn up. Don’t you worry about it. Now run along to bed so you won’t be caught up after lights out.”
“I wish you would consider it. Mother needs somebody like you.”
I couldn’t get the suitcase closed. Barbara helped me push down on the lid, and I snapped it shut.
“Why not, Miss E.?”
“Like I told you, Barbara, I am not no nurse. I never been on a boat, never got seasick, and I plan to keep it that way.”
“You can name your own price, Miss E.”
“Run along, Barbara.” I heard the screen door slam downstairs and then footsteps on the stairs. I gave her a wink. “I think I hear a ‘putty cat.’”
“Oh, her, that old battle-axe of a director.”
I smiled. “Now, now, be sweet!” She gave me a hug and left. I closed the door behind her, glad that was over.
Two days later, I had all my stuff packed and ready to go. I was going into town the next morning to rent that apartment if it was still available. Even so, I felt like Abraham must have felt when he “went out not knowing whither he went.” My severance pay would keep me going a couple months, but after that, well… I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
2
Albert came over that night, bringing us a mess of fish, and the girls took them to the canning room to clean. He and I walked up to the front porch and sat down in the rockers. “You catch them fish?” I asked.
“Not this time. I bought them at the trout farm.”
Through the years, Albert and me had spent many an evening sitting on that porch talking, and it hurt to think that this might well be the last time.
Albert leaned his elbows on his knees and twirled that little German hat on his fingers. Reminded me of that day we went up on Grandfather Mountain. I still have a picture of him we took that day. He was wearing that same little hat with the feather on the side.
“Say you didn’t catch those fish?”
“No, I didn’t. Truth is, I’ve been having bouts of vertigo. I never know when it’s going to hit me, so it wouldn’t be smart to wade in the stream fishing. The doctor made all kinds of tests but didn’t find anything. My wife is pushing me to take it easy, but there’s a lot of work to keeping up our place. As much as I enjoy doing the work, I have to admit I’m not always up to it. When this comes on me, I shouldn’t be driving, but since Lenora doesn’t drive, I have to.” He paused. “Say, Esmeralda, do you know of a man I could hire to help out?”
“No, I don’t, but I’ll keep it in mind.” A chipmunk was scurrying around in the flowers. “Albert, have you heard anything about Dora?”
“Yes, I have. I saw in the New York Times that she has a concert next fall in Lincoln Center. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“Amazing? It’s more like a miracle. When you gave her that big harmonica, did you ever dream she’d wind up a recording artist and playing that high-class music on stage?”
He shook his head. “Never. We knew she had talent, but we never dreamed she’d do anything more than play for her own pleasure.”
“I tell you, Albert, the Lord does wonders, don’t he? We saw Dora on TV one time—she was still wearing that old hunting coat she wore when she was here.”
Albert got up and walked to the edge of the porch, propped his hands on the banister, and looked up the driveway.
“So, what are your plans, Esmeralda?”
“I found a little place in town, and if it’s still available I’ll rent it tomorrow.” I tried to sound upbeat. “As soon as schools let out, tourists will be flocking up here, and it shouldn’t be hard to find a job in one of the restaurants.”
He turned around, leaned against the banister, and folded his arms across his chest. “Lenora and I would like for you to come live with us. We have that guesthouse and we’d love having you.” He smiled. “Maybe you can teach Lenora how to cook.”
“Thank you, Albert, but I believe the Lord has work for me to do somewhere.”
“Any idea where?”
“Can’t I serve the Lord as a waitress?”
“Of course, but you are best suited for a ministry such as this one here at Priscilla Home.”
“The board don’t think so.”
“I wish they had asked me. The way you run circles around these younger women amazes all of us. The board probably acted in haste.”
“Well, it’s all over and done with now. There are not many places like Priscilla Home to apply to.” I laughed. “The only job offer I’ve had is from one of the residents. And she’s just trying to help me out.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Barbara wants me to sign on as a companion for her mother. She says her family is rich, but I have my doubts about that.”
“Oh, the Winchesters are wealthy, all right. Philip Winchester is one of the wealthiest men in America, and his wife comes from a family that has been wealthy for generations.”
“Really? Well, they might be rich, Albert, but Barbara’s mother sounds like she’s nutty as a fruitcake.”
“Mrs. Winchester? Well, you’re probably right about that.” His eyes crinkled at the corners; he was tickled about something.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, it is funny. Several years ago, as was his habit, Philip Winchester was off on his yacht with a bevy of young women, and Mrs. Winchester had his picture plastered on billboards all across the country, advertising him as a missing person ‘last seen in the company of several swimsuit models.’”
We laughed. “How did he take it?” I asked.
“Matter-of-fact, he enjoyed it. Came on TV and said he was the envy of every CEO in the country.” Albert sat back down. “According to the gossip columnists, Mrs. Winchester won’t get on that yacht with him at the tiller. I guess there’s more to it than that. The jet set lives in a different world than the rest of us.”
“Well, tell me, Albert, if they’re so rich, why does Barbara’s mother drive a ten-year-old car?”
“That’s probably another one of her eccentricities. She travels by herself a lot. They say she won’t fly, even though Philip has private jets that would fly her anywhere she wants to go. Once in a while she makes the gossip columns or the headlines, usually because of some prank she pulls, like the one about putting his picture on billboards.”
The more I heard about that woman, the more I was convinced she was wacko.
“So Barbara wants you to live with this woman and take care of her?”
“No. She wants me to drive her across the country and go on a cruise to Alaska with her.”
“Now that sounds interesting. You would enjoy seeing Alaska.”
“I don’t need a vacation, Albert. I need to find a job. I’d have to be nuts to get be
hind the wheel of a ten-year-old rattletrap and drive across America with a loony tunes lady to take care of.”
“Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Winchester would have a driver.” Albert leaned back in the rocker, his hands behind his head. “Esmeralda, a trip like that shouldn’t last more than a few weeks. You’ve never seen much of the country, and this would be a chance to see some of the states between here and Alaska… Besides, you could use the money, couldn’t you?”
“How much do you think they’d pay me?”
“I don’t know, but I daresay they’d pay you a lot more than you expect.” He stood up to leave. “Esmeralda, if I were you, I’d take it.”
“You would?”
“I would.” He was halfway down the steps. “What have you got to lose?”
I watched my friend walking across the lawn to his car and wondered if I should reconsider the offer. I sat there mulling it over. Like he says, a few weeks is not a long time… I could sure use the money… I can put up with anything if it don’t last long… Like Albert said, what do I have to lose?
My sanity, probably!
I stood up to go inside.
That night after supper, I was reading my Bible, hoping some Scripture would show me whether or not I should sign on with Loony Tunes. It don’t always happen that way, but as I was reading in John there was this verse that I had counted on before: “When he puts forth his own sheep, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him for they know his voice.”
“He goes before them,” I repeated. “To Alaska?”
I closed my Bible and sat there thinking. After a while, I went upstairs to Barbara’s room. “Tell me, Barbara, does your mother have a driver?”
“Oh, sure, Percival Pettigrew.”
I hesitated. Then I said, “Well, you can call home and see if she wants me, and if she does, make the arrangements. I’ve decided I’ll go with her.”
3
Nancy went shopping with me to find a dress that would be okay for evening wear. The Nearly New shop had only one in my color, blue, with puff sleeves and a wide sash that tied in a bow in back. “We’ll go to the Thrifty Nifty,” she said. “That’s where rich women dump their duds so they can buy new.”
Well, we found a blue silk gown with the tags still on it. “Never been worn,” the clerk told us. It fit perfectly, and, if I do say so myself, I looked great in it. I had a strand of pearls that would set it off nice.
Nancy found a beaded bag that matched the dress, and I tried on a pair of pumps with a heel low enough for me to wear. That’s all I needed. I had everything else—a parka, sweats, sweaters—all the like of that.
So I was all fixed, dressed in my navy blue suit, ready and waiting the morning Mrs. Winchester was to arrive. All the girls were crowded onto the porch to see me off, laughing and talking—giving me all kinds of advice about finding a fellow and the like. I checked my bottomless pit to make sure I had everything—sunglasses, wallet, rain bonnet, umbrella, three Gospels of John; digging around in those little compartments, I found my lipstick, comb, brush, compact, stamps, address book, note pad, pencil, pen, tissues, and checkbook. But I couldn’t find my nail file. I had to go through several pockets again before I found it. Satisfied that I had everything, I closed my pocketbook and sat there holding it on my lap with both hands and trying not to fidget.
One of the girls hollered, “Here she comes!” A vehicle was turning in the driveway.
“Looks like a limo,” somebody said.
It was long, I tell you. Longer than a hearse! “What kind of a car is that?”
“It’s a Rolls,” Barbara told me. “A Rolls-Royce. A touring car.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me her car was a Rolls-Royce?”
She grinned. “I was afraid you wouldn’t take the job.”
There was a man in a uniform behind the wheel and a ugly-looking dog on the seat beside him. The driver looked straight ahead and did not so much as glance our way as he drove around back. The girls picked up my luggage and piled off the porch, leaving me to bring up the rear.
I did not like the looks of this—this blue, streamlined automobile and a dog on the front seat! It gave me second thoughts. Can I handle this?
The chauffeur was standing straight as a poker at the rear of the car, ready to load my two bags. Although he was skinny, his uniform fit. If it had been khaki, he could have passed for a World War I private. With a long nose, a neat little mustache tucked under it, and a chauffeur’s cap and black kid gloves, he looked like something out of a Hollywood movie.
Where’s Mrs. Winchester? I wondered. Then I saw her deep inside the backseat, nearly hid; on the other side of her was another one of them ugly mutts staring straight ahead.
I grabbed Barbara’s arm. “Now, see here, Barbara, if you think I’m gonna ride in that car with two big dogs all the way to Alaska, you’ve got another thing coming!”
“They won’t hurt you, Miss E. They’re guard dogs—Afghan hounds.”
“That figures—they’re terrorists!”
She laughed. “No. Mother won’t have bodyguards, so the dogs are the next best thing.”
“Now see here, Barbara—”
“Percival, this is Miss Esmeralda McAbee. Take good care of her.”
The chauffeur stiffened, tipped his cap, and held his nose in the air. “Good morning, madam.” Plainly, he thought he was too good for the likes of me. Well, nobody can snub me and get away with it. He opened the door for me to get in, but I let him stand there waiting while I took my time hugging each of the girls and saying my good-byes. I wasn’t done when here came Albert’s station wagon down the drive. He parked in back of the Rolls and got out wearing that pin-striped suit he wears when he’s going to fly from Greensboro to New York for a board meeting or something. “I see you’re ready to go,” he said to me.
“Yes, I guess.”
Barbara introduced him to Percival, and that nozzle nose did not hesitate to reach out and shake hands with Albert. Seeing I wasn’t ready to get in the car, he shut the backseat door and began showing off the Rolls to Albert.
“Is this the Silver Spur model?” Albert asked him.
“Sir, this is the Mulliner Park Ward Touring Limousine.” Nozzle Nose was so proud he could have split his britches. “This motorcar is two feet longer than the Silver Spur II.” They walked around to the front to look at the fancy grill. On the top was the figure of a shapely woman with wings in skin-tight drapery. “The flying lady,” he said, “distinguishes the Rolls-Royce as the finest motorcar in the world.”
Albert nodded. “I’ve known several maestros who own the Rolls, and I must say the ride is superb.”
“This model, sir, is the product of the world’s finest craftsmen. The coach builders of Mulliner Park Ward required fourteen months to sculpt the metal and wood that went into this luxurious motorcar.”
He opened the door on the driver’s side, and that hound, staring straight ahead, did not so much as look his way.
I whispered to Barbara, “You sure them dogs are housebroke?”
She giggled. “Maybe.”
That didn’t help my jitters one bit.
Percival was showing off the interior of the car, pressing his palm down on the soft leather seat. “Sir, the material that goes into this model is the kind dreams are made of. This leather, made of champagne-colored hides perfectly matched and hand-stitched, required the hides of eighteen cows.”
Albert nodded and began admiring the instrument panel. Nozzle Nose fell all over himself explaining. “All the woodwork is Lombardian walnut, burled walnut with silver inlays.”
“It’s really a magnificent car.”
I stood on one foot then the other, anxious to get this show on the road, but Percival wasn’t done. “Sir, this odometer is designed to record one million miles.”
“So I’ve heard,” Albert said. “I understand the Rolls has built-in security. Is that correct?”
“That is correct, sir.” And Nozzle Nose was off t
o the races. “The pin tumbler door locks are designed using an Egyptian model used four thousand years ago to seal the tombs of the pharaohs.” He paused for that to take effect. Albert nodded again, so Percival went on. “The odds for forging a key for these doors are one in twenty-four thousand. One in twenty-four thousand,” he repeated. “That is not all, sir; when I remove the key from the ignition, the transmission automatically locks.”
I could tell that Albert was ready to leave, but Nozzle Nose kept right on talking. “This motorcar is equipped with a minibar, refrigerator, silver-plated cocktail flasks, crystal glasses, a vanity set, and a marvelous entertainment console.”
“Thank you,” Albert told him and threw up his hand to me. “Esmeralda, enjoy yourself. Lenora sends her love. We’ll be praying for you.”
“Good-bye, Albert. Take care of that vertigo.”
I turned to say one last good-bye to the girls. There were tears in our eyes; we were too full to say much.
Percival opened the door for me, and, sad as I was, I slid in beside Mrs. Winchester. Percival fastened my seat belt. I wiped my eyes. There was no turning back now.
The mutt didn’t even notice me as I settled in my seat. Some guard dog.
Barbara opened my door a bit and poked her head inside. “Mother, this is Miss Esmeralda. We call her Miss E. We all love her very much, and I know you will too.”
“How do you do,” Mrs. Winchester said in a small voice. “I am Winifred Winchuster.”
“I see,” I said. So this is the way it’s gonna be—Mrs. Winchuster, my eye! Here’s somebody who won’t be calling her Mrs. Winchuster. I am nobody’s lackey.
Barbara tried to speak with her mother, but her mother had nothing to say to her. “Mother is shy,” Barbara explained. Then she pecked me on the cheek and closed the door.
I’d never heard anything so crazy. Why would any mother be shy around her own daughter? Whatever this Mrs. Winifred Winchester was, she didn’t strike me as being shy. Dressed in an elegant linen suit with a chiffon scarf and a broad-brimmed hat with feathers, she had to be the queen of the world. It made me feel good to see that her outfit did not hide the fact that she was heavier than me. As for her face, I couldn’t see much of it because of that hat and the dark glasses, but what I could see put me in mind of a Cabbage Patch doll. What nose she had was pressed in between blubber cheeks. But I must say her perfume was nice. Must be Evening in Paris, I thought.
Land Sakes Page 2
