Percival looked relieved that what he had bought for Winnie was okay. “For you, Esmeralda, we picked this denim jacket and jeans.”
The jacket had looped brass buttons, and the jeans also had looped brass buttons down the side of the legs—much too stylish for my taste, but they were my size and I was glad to have anything to wear.
Percival was showing us several pairs of shoes with pocketbooks to match. Out of the lot Winnie and I each found a pair we could wear, and I was especially glad to have a new bag to replace my bottomless pit. “We’ll leave what we can’t use for the maids,” Winnie said.
“When do you think they’ll let us leave?” I asked Percival.
“Tomorrow. The captain of the Amsterdam has Alphonso Pasquali in custody ready to be turned over to the authorities in Vancouver, and Chief Kline said as soon as Rollins and Dixon return with the other fellow, we’ll be free to go. The only thing he asks is that you keep him informed of your whereabouts in case he needs to get in touch. I took the liberty of buying our tickets for a flight out of here tomorrow at 11:41.”
I gathered up all the empty boxes and bags and stacked them in a corner. “Percival, you must be tired. Why don’t you stretch out on the couch and rest a while?”
Well, he wouldn’t do that, but he did sit in a chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. Winnie and I, dressed in our comfortable jumpsuits and bedroom slippers, sat down to talk.
“About letting Chief Kline know where we are,” I said. “Right now I don’t know where I’ll be.”
“Oh, you’ll be with me,” Winnie said confidently.
“No. Once we get back, I want to see what I can do about getting work like I had before—housemother in a ministry for women.”
“Oh no. I want you to come with me. Do you know where I’m going? I’m going to move to Live Oaks, South Carolina. I want to make friends with all those nice people you’ve told me about.”
I nearly dropped my teeth. I couldn’t imagine the wealthiest woman in America fitting in with my friends—not with Clara and them other Willing Workers. They would think Winnie was too strange to be living on the same planet, much less in Live Oaks. “What in the world would you do there, Winnie?” I asked.
“I have it all planned. I’m going to go into business there. I’ve learned all about it from TV. There used to be this show that took place in a diner, and the way the waitresses called out the orders—you know, they’d yell, ‘Shipwreck,’ meaning scrambled eggs; ‘BLT,’ for bacon, lettuce, and tomato; ‘Big boom booms, make ’em cry,’ meaning big burgers with onions; or ‘Hold the mayo!’ All of that fascinated me. There was this cook in a big white apron and wearing a chef’s hat working behind the counter, and even though there was this order wheel full of tickets, never once did he look at the tickets; he kept all the orders in his head. You’d see him pouring waffle mix onto the waffle iron, popping toast in the toaster, slapping hamburger patties on the grill, minding the waffles, scrambling eggs, flipping the patties, tending the deep fryer, slapping the meat onto hamburger buns, putting cheese on this one, tomato and lettuce on another—all in a kind of steady rhythm. How he kept all the orders in his head is beyond me, but he did. With a burger he’d add fries hot out of the grease, quick wrap the bun in paper, and then you’d hear this ding-ding, which meant, ‘Pick up order.’
“I’m going to buy a diner and hire you, Esmeralda, as the short-order cook. It’ll be fun, I tell you!”
I rolled my eyes at Percival. “I don’t think so, Winnie.” The more Percival and I thought about that, the funnier it got. We laughed so hard Winnie realized her dream of having a Live Oaks diner was out of the question.
“Well, if not a diner, could you and I just live in Live Oaks? Esmeralda, I really need you to help me get over my drinking problem, and I think living in Live Oaks away from drinking people would help me more than anything else. I would build a big house, but if you wanted your own place, I would build you a cottage next door.”
“No, Winnie. Unless the Lord made it clear that he wanted me to do such as that, it wouldn’t work. As for your drinking, only Jesus can help you, and what Splurgeon said is true, ‘He will never cease to help us until we cease to need.’”
Percival took his feet off the coffee table, leaned his elbows on his knees, and asked, “Esmeralda, how’d it come about that you started calling Mrs. Winchuster Winnie? Never before have I ever heard anyone call her Winnie.”
“That’s because no one ever has,” Winnie said. “I always wanted someone to call me Winnie, but even Esmeralda took a long time coming around to doing it. Percival, I’m sick and tired of being looked up to as someone important. I’ve never done anything in my life that was worth a dime.”
“Well,” he said, “you’re not by yourself. I’m sick and tired of being Percival. I want to go back to being me, if you know what I mean.”
“You want us to call you Marvin?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but there’s more to it than that. This role I’ve been playing is not for me. A man ought to be able to be himself—to live in the real world without pretense or shame.”
“You’re not going to resign, are you?” Winnie asked.
“I don’t know for sure. I don’t think taking care of you and the dogs is what I want to do for the rest of my life. You can understand that, can’t you, Mrs. Winchuster?”
“Winchester,” she repeated. “Yes, I do understand, but Percival—”
He corrected her. “Marvin.”
“Okay, Marvin. I do understand, but I don’t know how I can manage without you.”
“You’ve been good to me, Mrs. Winchester, and I will always be grateful, but…” He placed his hand over his heart. “I don’t feel good in here living this lie. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes. I think I do. Have you been reading the Bible you bought?”
“I’ve read the Gospel of Matthew, but it’s raised more questions than it’s answered.”
The phone was ringing. I answered it.
“Hello, Esmeralda? It’s Roger Elmwood.”
“Oh, hello Roger. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well. Esmeralda, Mabel wants to speak with you a minute.”
Mabel was so excited she could hardly talk, telling me how happy Live Oaks was that I was safe—how Pastor Osborne had held special prayer services for my release, etc., etc. I thanked her—told her I’d tell them all about it someday.
Then Roger got on the line again. “Esmeralda, yes, we are all thankful that you’re okay. We want to hear all about it later. Right now I have some important business to discuss with you. Are you free to talk?”
“Yes, I’m free.”
“The board has asked Nancy to be the director at Priscilla Home.”
“Oh, that’s fine. You couldn’t have picked a better person.”
“Yes, but she will only accept our offer on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Nancy said she will take the job only if you agree to be the resident manager.”
“You mean housemother?”
“Well, whatever. The same job you had before. Now, I know these younger board members let you go because they thought you were too old for the job, but you know me well enough to know I never thought that.” He chuckled. “After all, I’m about your age, and I’m still going strong.”
I was quiet, but what was welling up inside of me was pure joy! I could have danced a jig!
“Well, Esmeralda, you don’t have to give me your answer tonight, but—”
“Roger, count me in. I’ll be back in two weeks, maybe in ten days.”
“Thank you, Esmeralda. I’ll call Nancy right now and give her the good news. In the meantime, keep in touch and if there’s anything we can do for you, let us know.”
“Okay, thank you, Roger. Good-bye.” And I hung up.
“What was that all about?” Winnie asked.
“They want me back at Priscilla Home.”
&nbs
p; “Are you going?”
“Yes, I am.”
Her face fell.
“Winnie,” I said, “I’m taking you with me. Priscilla Home is where you need to be. With Albert teaching the Bible, you’ll find all the help you need in Jesus.”
She stared at me. I don’t think she could believe what I had just said.
“I mean it, Winnie. You’re going with me.”
She got up out of her chair, came over to me, and hugged the breath out of me!
Marvin smiled. “What about me? I’d like to study the Bible. Do they take men?”
“No, but I think I know a way to get you what you’re looking for.”
“How’s that?”
“Albert Ringstaff, our Priscilla Home Bible teacher, lives up the road from us. He and his wife, Lenora, have a large house and another small guesthouse. The last time I talked with him he asked me to be on the lookout for a man who can drive and who can also do the yard work. Would you be interested in that?”
“You say he’s a Bible teacher?”
“Yes, and a very learned one, I might add. You two would get along good.”
I could practically see what was turning over in his head. “What will we do with Desi and Lucy?”
“I think the Ringstaffs would welcome them. The women at Priscilla Home also need a dog; two would be even better. Lucy and Desi will be no problem.”
“Then you call him. Ask him if the job’s still open.”
I did call, and Albert remembered meeting Marvin the day he came to Priscilla Home and showed Albert all about the Rolls.
“Bring him on,” Albert said. “We really need him.”
“And he needs you, Albert.”
So, it was settled. The next day we flew out of Juneau for Vancouver. There was not a peep out of Winnie about being afraid of flying. She and I were in big seats up front, and since there were no other passengers sitting up there, I was humming. Winnie heard me, and she started singing the words. “Dem bones, dem bones… Now hear the Word of the Lord…”
Acknowledgments
I am indebted to Tod Benoit, author of Where Are They Buried? How Did They Die?, for information on deceased persons and burial sites, and to John Heilig and Reg Abbiss, coauthors of Rolls-Royce: The Best Car in the World, for descriptions of the Mulliner Park Ward Touring Limousine. Dr. Bradley Bethel of Laurinburg, NC, shared his personal experience as an owner of a Rolls-Royce.
The following individuals graciously corresponded with me concerning the Amsterdam, flagship of the Holland American line: Christopher Wilson, Erik Elvejord, and Hilda Cullen.
Of the four five-star hotels visited in this novel, explanations of facilities and services were given by Mike Gregory, Karen Hunter-Lowery, and Jeffrey Zimmer of the Gaylord Opryland Hotel, Nashville; Kate Duffy of the Peninsula, Chicago; Shannon Short of the Grand America, Salt Lake City; Ms. Joanna Tsparas and Lisa Irwin of the Wedgewood, Vancouver, Canada.
The greeting card poet, Arthur Reimer, wrote the poems attributed to Mrs. Winchester. Nancy Daughtry, one of my former students, served as research assistant.
My longtime friend, Alvera Mickelsen, critiqued the manuscript and improved it immeasurably. My sister, Jennie Free, an avid reader, helped by giving me a reader’s viewpoint on this story.
Joyce Hart, my agent, and the hardworking professionals at Baker Publishing Group have done more for Esmeralda and me than words can tell. Thank you, one and all!
Margaret A. Graham is the author of seven nonfiction books, one work of juvenile fiction, and five novels. She conveys her deep love of the Scriptures as a speaker, Bible teacher, and newspaper columnist. Graham resides in Sumter, South Carolina.
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