by Ann B. Ross
Turning over one more time, I began trying out different ways to open the conversation I planned to have with Etta Mae. Her reaction would all depend on the way I presented this rare opportunity for her advancement.
I never decided on the ideal approach because the next thing I knew it was time to get up. I would have to play it by ear when the time came to present my plan. One thing, though, that I intended to stress—as a business owner, she would never again have to worry about being fired. That possibility seemed to be a constant threat to Etta Mae’s peace of mind, and the Lurline woman apparently knew it and used it, which to my mind was no way to run a business or to treat an employee, especially one as loyal and hardworking as Etta Mae.
There would be, of course, other, different worries as an owner, but her employment would no longer depend on the whim of someone else.
* * *
—
While I was dressing that morning I gradually came to the conclusion that Etta Mae would have to be talked into making such a huge leap. I doubted that it had ever occurred to her that she could obtain a large loan, own a thriving business, run it effectively, and eventually pay off the loan, as well as make a decent living for herself. She simply did not think, or dream, in those terms. But I had seen in her a fierce determination to better herself and a willingness to dare—with a little push now and then—to reach for more.
She would need that push because she was fearful of even trying to reach for anything she considered beyond her. She lacked confidence in her own abilities while everybody around her stood back in awe.
It would be up to me to see that she seized the day and reached for the prize. If she didn’t recognize her own abilities, I certainly did.
Of course it had crossed my mind that I was flipping back a leaf or two of what I had so recently decided to turn over. But that was my problem, not hers, and I intended to use every means of persuasion to get Etta Mae to at least look into buying The Handy Home Helpers. It would be for her own good.
So I called and invited her to lunch at my house the following day.
“Oh, I’d love to!” she said, as bright and perky as she always sounded. “And it’s the perfect day—the only one of the week that I have a full hour to eat between patients.”
I took that as a good omen.
“Can I bring anything?” she asked.
Bless her heart, she had just revealed how seldom she received a luncheon invitation.
“Oh, no, Lillian will prepare something for us. I just want to visit with you a while, maybe hear more about your employer’s plans, and yours, of course.”
She sighed. “That won’t take long because I don’t have any. And I guess I won’t until Lurline lets us know what she’s going to do. I declare, Miss Julia, it’s hard not knowing from one day to the next whether I have a job or not.”
That, to me, was an even better omen. I intended to put her mind to rest about that very matter.
“Lillian,” I said as I hung up the phone and turned to her. “I guess you heard me invite a guest for lunch tomorrow. What do you think we should have? It’ll have to be quick and easy because she doesn’t have much time.”
“I ’member Miss Etta Mae likin’ hot dogs, so . . .”
“Well, I don’t, but she is accustomed to fast food. What about hamburgers?”
“I can do that and have ’em all ready as soon as she gets here. You want to eat here in the kitchen or in the dining room?”
I thought about it for a minute, then said, “Let’s do it here in the kitchen. She’s almost like family, and I think she’ll be more comfortable without making a big fuss over it.” I thought about it for a while longer, then said, “And I might need you to help me out.”
She frowned. “Help you out how? What you tryin’ to get her to do?”
“Something that will put her mind at ease and maybe eventually put her on easy street. Don’t worry, Lillian, I have her best interests at heart. I just might want you to chime in occasionally to help her see what a golden opportunity she has before her.”
Lillian frowned so hard that she was practically glowering at me. “I don’t know, Miss Julia. Sounds to me like you tryin’ to talk her into doin’ something she might not want to do.”
“That’s only because neither of you know what it is. And I think when you do, you at least will know that it’s perfect for her. She, however, might need a little urging, a little push, to step out of her comfort zone. So to speak.”
“Uh-huh, you gonna try to talk her into doin’ something that you want done, but she might not. I might not want to be a part of that.”
“Just wait until you hear what it is. I declare, Lillian, you can sure throw cold water on the best-laid plans, because I’m telling you that what I’m going to suggest to her is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And the only thing that would keep her from jumping at the chance is the fear that it’s beyond her, that she doesn’t deserve such an opportunity. I want you to help me convince her that she has what it takes to do whatever she wants to do.”
“That,” Lillian said, scrunching up her mouth, “sound to me like it’s gonna cost some money.”
“Oh,” I said, waving my hand, “everything costs money. Which of course I’ve thought about and have plans for, as well. It’s just a matter now of getting her agreement to proceed.”
“I don’t know, Miss Julia,” Lillian said again. “You better not be countin’ on me. I’m not much good at talkin’ people into doin’ something they don’t want to do.”
“Well, that’s just it,” I said, somewhat sharply, “I don’t want to talk her into doing something she doesn’t want to do. I want to talk her into wanting to do it.”
Chapter 14
“Wha-at?” Etta Mae’s jaw dropped and so did her hamburger—one stayed open and the other landed on her plate. “Miss Julia,” she said, looking tired as she leaned back in her chair, “I don’t have a pot to use when I need it. How in the world could I buy Lurline’s business?”
“It’s easy,” I said. “People do it all the time. You borrow the money, and the business pays it back. Plus, of course, making a profit for you to live on. Now, look, Etta Mae, I am going to invest some money somewhere, either with you or with someone else. That’s a given, so don’t think I’m doing this just for your benefit. I’m looking for a sound local business run by someone I know and trust. The Handy Home Helpers and you seem to fit the bill. Because, number one,” I continued, “if Lurline Corn is buying a half-a-million-dollar condo in Florida, then The Handy Home Helpers is a profitable enterprise. And number two, I know you, and I know what you’re capable of, and if I hadn’t trusted you in some of the tight spots we’ve been in, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
“That’s the truth,” Lillian chimed in as she leaned on the counter, listening to us. “No tellin’ where she’d be if you hadn’t been around to get her outta trouble. Pro’bly in the hospital or the jail, one or the other.”
“Well,” I said with a wry twist of my mouth, “I wouldn’t go quite that far. But that’s beside the point. The point now, Etta Mae, is simply for you to be willing to take on a business and run it so that it continues to make a profit. And that brings up the next question—could you step into Lurline’s place so there’d be no interruptions to the patients or problems with the employees?”
“I think maybe I could,” Etta Mae said softly, as if she were thinking out loud. “Lurline put me in charge for a couple of months when she had her gallbladder out. But she wouldn’t let me see the books. I had to take everything to the hospital so she could sign payroll checks. But I managed the schedules and brought in two new contracts while she was out.”
“Well, see,” I said. “You already know how to run the day-to-day routine. As for the books, Lurline will have to make them available so an accountant can look them over for you. You want to be sure that
the business is making a profit and that you’re not taking over some long-term debt that the business has incurred.”
“It’s the long-term debt I’d be incurring that worries me,” Etta Mae said.
“I don’t blame you,” Lillian said. “That’s what I’d be worried about.”
“Lillian, for goodness’ sakes,” I said, “don’t be a pessimist. Now, listen, Etta Mae, what you need to do is go to see Mr. Blair—he’s a realtor who specializes in commercial real estate. Lay all your cards on the table for him, except for one thing—where you’re getting a loan. There’s no need to bring me into it at all. Just assure him that you have access to a loan if the price is right. You’ll also want him to go over the books with you and tell you what he thinks. At that point, you and I both may decide that The Handy Home Helpers is not as thriving as we think it is. But Mr. Blair will find out what Lurline is asking for the business, and he’ll help you decide if you want to make an offer, although I’ll want to have some input on that, as well.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I said, my usual skepticism coming to the fore, “make sure that he understands that Lurline is not to know who is inquiring. It wouldn’t surprise me if she wouldn’t want to sell to you. I don’t mean you, specifically, but to anyone who has worked for her.”
“Oh, it would be me, specifically,” Etta Mae said, somewhat sadly. “She’d hate for me to take her place. She’d probably raise her price if she knew it was me trying to buy it.”
“Well,” I said, “that’s why you use a realtor, and along the way, a lawyer, too. Now, Etta Mae, I don’t want to talk you into something you don’t want, but if you’ll just see Mr. Blair, study the books, and get his advice, we’ll know if it’s worth pursuing. At any point during that process, you can decide against it and drop out. In fact, I’d want you to if it doesn’t look as good as it sounds. I am not interested in putting money into something that’s dying on the vine. So,” I went on, “you don’t have to make a decision now. All you have to do now is begin to look into it. Just keep my name out of it. You and I will come to an understanding when we know what we’re getting into. How does that sound?”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” Lillian said. “’Cause she don’t have to say one way or the other right now. She can just wait an’ see.”
“Right,” I said, “that’s exactly right. We’d both be foolish to decide right now. But we should look into it. When can you go see Mr. Blair? You ought to go as soon as possible, because didn’t you tell me that somebody else may be interested in it?”
Etta Mae nodded. “The Dollar Store, which had Lurline practically dancing in her office. But then we heard they’re looking to build on a larger lot, so I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s another thing to ask Mr. Blair to find out for you. And you’ll want to know if the business and the property are being sold together or separately. I can’t imagine the Dollar Store would be interested in anything but the property. But it’s the business that we’re interested in, although I would not turn my back on two lots on a main street, even in Delmont.”
“Would you . . . ,” Etta Mae began, stopped, bit her lip, then went on. “Would you go ahead and buy the business even if I backed out?”
Knowing that she was asking how much I was depending on her, I looked her in the eye and gave her a straight answer. “I would buy the property without you if it’s being sold separately, because real estate is always a good buy in my book. But I would not buy the business without you, because I know nothing about running it and don’t know anybody as capable as you to do it. Look, Etta Mae,” I went on as I leaned toward her, “I’m really not interested in a caregiving business with or without you. I’m interested in investing in you because you would be a good investment. That’s as plain and as simple as I can make it, because I don’t give money away to just any Tom, Dick, or Harry.”
“She sure don’t,” Lillian said.
Etta Mae took a deep breath. “So you think Lurline’s business would make enough to repay the loan and make a living for me, too?”
“If it wouldn’t, we won’t do it.”
“Let me think about it,” she murmured.
“Of course, but don’t think too long. If the Dollar Store makes a good offer for the property, Lurline will jump at it. Even,” I went on, “if it means closing the business and putting her employees on the street.”
She nodded, got up from the table, and put on her coat. Thanking Lillian and me for lunch, she said she had to get back to work. I walked her to the door, urged her to talk with Mr. Blair, then went back to the kitchen.
“Well, Lillian, what do you think?”
“I think she didn’t eat her lunch,” she said, pointing at half a hamburger left on Etta Mae’s plate.
* * *
—
I couldn’t sit still or turn my hands to anything else all afternoon. I kept thinking of what I should have said to Etta Mae, something more enticing than I had said. All I’d had to do was to draw her in far enough to speak with Mr. Blair, then an informed decision could be made. I wasn’t sure that I had done that and kept planning what else I could say that would sway her to at least look into the possibilities.
The telephone interrupted my mental plans.
“Julia,” Mildred Allen almost demanded, “do you know what that Tonya has done now?”
“Well, no, I guess I don’t.”
“You won’t believe it anyway,” she said, then began to cry.
“What is it, Mildred?” I said, gripping the phone for I had never known Mildred to cry about anything. “Tell me.”
“Do you,” she asked with a loud, wet sniff, “do you remember my telling you that I’d never have a grandchild?”
“Yes, of course I remember.”
“Well, it seems that Tonya has produced one for me.”
Chapter 15
Stunned, all I could say was, “How?”
Then, stung that I had responded inappropriately to such happy news, I quickly said, “Why, that’s wonderful, Mildred. I am so happy to hear that.”
But Mildred was barely listening. After a few deep, sobbing breaths, she began her tale of woe. “She’s sending the child to me, and what on earth am I going to do with it?”
“Wait,” I said, “wait a minute. There’s already a child? I thought you meant she was expecting one.”
“Adoption, Julia,” Mildred said with a wearing sigh. “She’s adopted a child which she’s too busy to look after. So she’s sending it to me. As if I don’t have my hands full with Horace.” Mildred blew her nose.
“That’s . . . ,” I said with a gasp, searching for a word, “unbelievable.” And selfish and presumptuous and a display of absolute gall, if you ask me. I said none of that, of course, but I had never known anyone to be so thoughtless as to do something this impulsively outrageous and expect someone else to pick up after her.
“So,” I said, trying to get the conversation on track, “we keep saying it. Is it a girl or a boy, and how old is it?”
“It’s a girl. Penelope, if you can believe, although I should be grateful for a normal name and not something like Blue Sky or Ashram or some other outlandish name. I keep thinking that maybe it’s a sign, a good omen or something, because Penelope was my grandmother’s name. But she’s about seven years old, which, if you don’t know, Julia, means that her personality and ethical sense are already formed and probably set in stone. And Tonya has had her only a few months—without one word to me again—so that child will be completely untrained, and for all I know, untrainable. What in the world am I going to do with her?”
“Oh, my, Mildred, what a shock it must be for you. But, listen,” I went on, trying to find a bright side for her, “you will be so good for that child, and she will be for you, too. Remember how upset you were at the thought of never having a grandchild. Well, now you have one.”
> “It won’t be the same,” Mildred said mournfully. “Daddy would turn over in his grave at the thought of someone of unknown heritage sharing in his estate. I’ll have to work on my will again.”
Not wanting to get onto that subject, I posed another question. “Did Tonya say why she couldn’t take care of the child? It seems strange that she’d be too busy so soon after getting her. I mean,” I quickly added for fear of offending, “most new mothers want to be at home for the first few months anyway.”
“Oh, Julia,” Mildred moaned as if in pain, “it’s just beyond belief. Do you know what she’ll be doing? Of course you don’t, so I’ll tell you. She’s making—and I mean, starring in one of those reality shows on television. It’s going to be The Real Housewives of Somewhere. I don’t know where and I don’t care as long as it’s not in Abbotsville. I mean they have Real Housewives in half the cities in the country but they’d better not come here.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I said, fairly certain that Abbotsville would not be considered.
“Oh, I know, but I’m just saying. But I ask you, have you ever known a housewife like any of them? Not a one of them has ever mopped a floor or cleaned a toilet. Not that I have, of course, but I don’t walk around made up for a camera all day long, either. It’s to be a weekly show, so Tonya’s time is fully booked and guess who she turns to when she needs something. To me, that’s who.
“Anyway,” Mildred went on as if she needed to tell it all, “she’ll be living in Los Angeles or somewhere—maybe Cabo—for the next year or so while they film two seasons. And while I take care of the child she’s picked up from somewhere.” She paused, then added darkly, “And from somewhere out of the country, too, because Tonya is sending no papers, no documentation, nothing. She said they’re in the mail and you know what that usually means.”
