by Ann B. Ross
Ida Lee welcomed me in and walked with me up the stairs to the bedroom where Mildred was ensconced in bed, a breakfast tray on a nearby table.
“Julia!” Mildred cried when Ida Lee announced me. “I’m so glad you’ve come. You can’t imagine how boring it is to lie abed all day with no visitors. Inez,” she said, turning to the tall, skinny, uniformed woman by the bedside, “take a break while I visit with my friend. This is Mrs. Murdoch. Julia, this is Inez Freeman, who’s taking such good care of me.”
The nurse and I exchanged nods on her way out of the room, while I wondered at the sour expression on her face. It wasn’t the tender, loving, and caring look that I had expected after hearing Mildred’s enthusiastic endorsement of her. In fact, her face was gaunt, careworn, and looked tired to the bone, although she strode out of the room with alacrity.
“Grady Peeples recommended her,” Mildred said as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did.
It was a brief and would’ve been a pleasant visit if I had enjoyed the litany of aches and pains and worries that Mildred had about her health. I gave her the package of Penelope’s cookies, which were put aside with Mildred commenting that her diet did not include empty calories.
“How is Horace doing?” I asked in an attempt to move away from discussing the odds of her having another attack. “I expect he’s glad to have you home.”
“He doesn’t know I’ve been away, much less in the hospital. But I’ll tell you, Julia, he is worrying me to death. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s getting up in the middle of the night, dressing himself, then trying to get out of the house. Grady found him last night going around trying every door. The poor man hardly got a wink of sleep.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said, thinking that Horace needed the sleep. “But maybe he’ll nap during the day.”
“How can he? He has to watch Horace like a hawk or he’ll be out and gone before we know it.” Mildred frowned, smoothed out the sheet, and went on. “I talked with one of the nurses at the hospital who’s had experience with senile patients. She called what he’s doing exit-seeking and said it was common to a phase of Alzheimer’s disease. She said these patients have an urgent need to go out to get something done. It can be anything that’s weighing on their minds—the need to get to work on time or to pick up children from school or to meet an appointment, things like that.” Mildred sighed heavily. “The only thing is, Horace has never had an urgent need to do anything, so where it’s coming from now, I’m sure I don’t know.”
Exit-seeking? I’d never heard the phrase before, but it reminded me to seek my own exit and get home to see how our Christmas tree looked.
* * *
—
Not very evenly trimmed, if you want to know the truth. It was heavily laden with ornaments up to about four feet, but sparsely decorated above that. Sam had built a fire in the fireplace, and he sat beside it smiling at the job he’d overseen. “I hung those two up near the top,” he said.
I laughed and congratulated him on the good job he’d done. “Where’s Lloyd? In fact, where’s everybody?”
“Lloyd took the little girls to play with the twins. He’ll have them back in a little while, and Lillian is upstairs doing whatever she does.”
I sat down in the wing chair across from him, then commended him on the fire. “There’s nothing like a wood fire, is there? The gas one in the library is certainly more convenient and less work, but I love a real one. Is that apple wood you’re burning?”
He nodded. “Yes, I got us a cord of it when they cleared an old orchard out beyond Edneyville. So they can build some apartment houses, I think, which is a shame even if it’s called progress.”
“Anything is called progress if there’re people against it. It’s supposed to make us feel bad.”
He smiled. “So how’s Mildred doing?”
“She’s fine, but not to hear her tell it. But it’s Horace who concerns me.” And I went on to tell of his latest attempt to leave the house. “Apparently the need to get outside and go somewhere is quite common. They just don’t know how to find what they’re looking for when they get out.”
I looked up as Lillian appeared in the doorway. “Miss Julia, Miss Etta Mae wants you to call her. She called right after you left.”
“Maybe,” I said, my heart lifting as I rose from the chair, “she’s had a response from Lurline Corn. I’ll call her from the library, but stay close, Sam, if you will.”
* * *
—
“Etta Mae? It’s Julia Murdoch,” I said when she answered. “Have you heard anything?”
“Hey, Miss Julia. Yes, but it’s the strangest thing. Mr. Blair said it’s real unusual, but he recommends that we go along.”
“Go along with what?”
“Well, you know we submitted another offer, going up a good bit more than her coming down only a thousand dollars, so now she wants more time.”
“Why?” I asked. “Twenty-four hours is what she gave us when she responded to our offer. What more does she want?”
“She wants the whole weekend—today and tomorrow until Monday morning. She claims that a personal matter has come up that prevents her from giving our offer the consideration it deserves—that’s what she wrote to Mr. Blair.”
“Well, for goodness’ sakes,” I said. “She may be hoping for more time to hear from Mr. Sitton, but we might as well give it to her. You know her better than I do, Etta Mae, what do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Etta Mae said in a troubled tone. “She didn’t come in to work yesterday, but that’s not real unusual. Just called me to make sure everybody knew what to do.” Etta Mae paused, then went on. “I’ve a good mind to call her and see if everything’s okay, but I’m kinda scared to. I’m not supposed to know she’s had an offer, so how would I know she needs more time to consider it?”
“That’s right. You’ll give yourself away unless you have a real good reason to call her on a Saturday.”
“Well-l,” Etta Mae said, drawing it out with a tinge of excitement underneath. “I might have one. Guess who’s back in town?”
“Who?”
“Bobby Lee Moser, and Lurline would expect me to tell her about it.”
Oh, my word, I thought with a sinking feeling. If I wasn’t careful, I could find myself in Lawyer Sitton’s situation—ready to buy a home care business but having no one to manage it.
“Etta Mae,” I said, realizing that I had no right to interfere in her personal life, but feeling an urgent need to issue a warning. “Etta Mae, are you in danger of taking your eyes off the prize? Because if you are, I need to know.”
“Oh, no,” she quickly said. “No, I’m not. Don’t worry about that. I know what Bobby Lee is like, and I know I have to think of my future. It’s just, well, he’s real exciting.”
I heard the little gasp in her voice, so her words did not reassure me. “He’s been away a good while, hasn’t he? Is he just visiting now?”
“No, he’s back for good because the sheriff wants him to run for sheriff next year when he retires. See, Miss Julia, Bobby Lee’s been working for the State Bureau of Investigation down in Raleigh, so he has a real good résumé and the sheriff wants to leave his office in good hands.”
“Well, that speaks well for both of them,” I said, but it did not relieve my anxiety that Etta Mae would lose her head again and turn up married to another footloose man. That wouldn’t prevent her from taking the helm of The Handy Home Helpers, but it could certainly divide her attention. “But,” I went on, “back to our original question. Call Lurline and tell her about this Bobby Lee person if you would ordinarily do so. Just don’t slip up and let on that you know she’s considering an offer.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. But I don’t know, Miss Julia, I might better not call her. She knows me so well that she might suspect something.
And she’s never liked Bobby Lee, anyway. She might wonder why I’d call to tell her he’s back.”
“Then let’s let her alone to consider our offer in peace. We’ll know the answer Monday morning, and it sounds as if you have enough to keep you occupied over the weekend anyway.”
“Yeah,” she said, blowing out her breath, “I sure do. Bobby Lee’s taking me to the Outback Steakhouse tonight.”
Chapter 39
“If it’s not one thing,” I said, sighing heavily as I returned to my chair across from Sam, “it’s two more. I’ve always been able to count on Etta Mae’s basic good sense and her tenacity when something has to be done. But apparently that assessment was made during the times that Bobby Lee Moser was out of town.”
“What’s he got to do with it?”
“Everything, maybe. Do you know him?”
“Know of him,” Sam said. “A good man from what I hear. Well-trained, in fact he may be the best-trained officer the county’s ever had. If he’s back on the force here, I’m glad to hear it.”
“Well, you’ll have a chance to show your approval next year. Etta Mae says he’s going to run for sheriff.”
Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Ah, so the old man plans to retire? That’s good news. But how does Etta Mae know about it?”
“Because Bobby Lee Moser is the one she’s lost her head over time and time again and probably this time as well.”
“Oh, yes,” Sam said, “I seem to remember that they were an item a few years ago. They were dating a good long while, weren’t they?”
“Well, yes, if dating is what you call it.”
Sam laughed. “Well,” he said, “I’m in polite company. But Moser shouldn’t affect your business plans.”
“Maybe not, but it worries me. Etta Mae seems quite vulnerable to a handsome man’s attention. I need her to stay focused, because now Lurline Corn has asked for extra time to consider our offer. She’ll let us know her decision Monday morning.”
“Hm-m,” Sam said, “that sounds as if she’s thinking of accepting.”
“That’s what I’m hoping, but tell me this. What will I do with a home care service if the new owner can’t get her head out of the clouds long enough to take charge of it?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. Etta Mae will come through for you.”
“I hope so,” I said, but I wasn’t totally convinced. “I just wish Bobby Lee Moser had stayed where he was, at least until Etta Mae had settled in. There’s no telling what the two of them will be up to now.”
“Oh,” Sam said with a wry smile, “I expect we could guess.”
* * *
—
Well, yes, I could guess, and it filled my head with worries all weekend. In fact, it took up so much of my time that I didn’t visit Mildred, and I didn’t call her. It was all I could do to put those concerns aside for just the hour and ten minutes of the Sunday-morning services.
Actually, though, I could’ve better used the time to worry than to listen to the new pastor tell us that faith without works is dead. I couldn’t disagree with that since it was Scriptural, but I could disagree with his definition of works. According to him they were made up of giving until it hurt to the church, to foreign missions, to the homeless, to the jobless, and to every professional nonprofit agency with its doors open and its hands out. And you don’t even have to think about it. Most of them will tell you exactly how much they’ve figured you can afford to give—just check a box and write your check. Or to make it even easier, put it on your credit card.
Not one word came from the pulpit about the real work of every Christian, which is to save souls by way of the Good News.
Ah, well, in my small way, I was doing what I could, which was to have Penelope seated beside me in the pew and occupied with a New Testament coloring book.
But as Monday morning drew near, I found myself getting more and more excited by the thought of Lurline Corn actually committing herself to selling for our most recently quoted price. What a coup that would be! Etta Mae would be Chief Executive Officer of her own business and set for life regardless of who moved back to town and who didn’t. I talked myself into believing that Bobby Lee Moser would be downgraded to at least second place on her list of concerns if Lurline would just sign that Offer to Purchase The Handy Home Helpers.
* * *
—
It was five of twelve, after I’d waited impatiently all Monday morning, before Etta Mae called to tell me what Lurline Corn had done.
“Mr. Blair didn’t hear from her until eleven thirty!” Etta Mae reported, the outrage obvious in her voice. “I had about decided she was just going to ignore us, and on top of that, she didn’t accept our offer! What’re we going to do?”
“Hold on, Etta Mae,” I said, although my hopeful expectations were fast deflating. “Did she just reject our offer or did she send a counter?”
“Oh, she sent another one,” Etta Mae said as if it were of no account. She told me what it was, and I did a fast computation in my head. “At least,” Etta Mae went on, “she’s come down more than the thousand she came down the first time.”
“Yes, and it’s sizable enough to have possibilities. Give me a few minutes, Etta Mae, to do some figuring. I’ll call you back within the hour.” Actually, I wanted to check my figuring with Sam before making another offer.
“Well, wait, Miss Julia, there’s something else. I think I know why Lurline needed the weekend to think. She didn’t come in to work this morning, so I’m holding down the fort, which always upsets the other girls. They have to add my patients to their lists, so they were about half mad about the added work and it being a Monday morning, too. Anyway, they were all talking about Bug—you know, Lurline’s worthless nephew. Well, he went on such a bender over the weekend that Lurline had to call 9-1-1 because he took her car and drove it through a cornfield and ended up nosedown in a drainage ditch because, he said, he was changing radio stations and missed the turn-off. And the cops came, too, and they arrested him even though Lurline wouldn’t swear out a warrant on him even though he’d ruined her car. But they say he went after a deputy with a tire iron, so they didn’t need a warrant. They put him in jail, and everybody in Delmont’s talking about it.”
I’m sorry to report that my heart gave a leap of renewed hope at that news. “Oh, my goodness, Etta Mae, you know what that might mean, don’t you?”
“She’ll have to go his bail?”
“No. I mean, yes, probably, but I’m thinking of something else. She may really want to sell now, or even need to sell. You see?”
There was a moment’s pause, then Etta Mae got it. “Oh, man, yes! If there’s one thing Lurline hates more than anything, it’s being gossiped about. She’s real close about her private life, but her reputation’s going down the drain when word gets around that her nephew is even goofier than we thought and, believe me, it’ll get around. I mean everybody already knows it anyway, but it’ll just kill her that it’s out in public now. She’ll be done in with people whispering that she’s not as high-toned as she makes out she is. I kinda feel sorry for her, because she really tries to keep up appearances.”
Well, don’t we all? But I let that alone, and said instead, “I’m sorry for her troubles, too, but it might play right into our hands. We’ll just do what we would’ve done anyway, which is to make another counteroffer. I’ll call you back within the hour.”
Clicking off the phone, I turned toward the library and called, “Sam?”
* * *
—
“We ought to strike while the iron is hot,” I said, leaning over to look at the figures on Sam’s legal pad. “I don’t want to take advantage of Lurline’s personal problems, but I guess that’s what we’re doing. But then again, we were already in negotiations before that boy ended up in jail, so it would be strange if we suddenly backed off, wouldn’t it?�
��
“Probably,” Sam said, nodding. “If Ms. Corn is as concerned about appearances as Etta Mae says, she might assume her unknown bidder had heard the gossip and didn’t want to do business with her.” Then he added, “Having kinfolk in jail wouldn’t deter most bidders, though. I think you should go ahead with whatever you would’ve done anyway.”
“Well, I had halfway planned to make one last offer this morning, and if she turned it down, I was going to tell Etta Mae that we were through. I just don’t want to appear to be taking advantage.”
“You won’t.” He pointed at the figure we had been discussing. “This is a good, reasonable offer, and she’d be smart to accept it whether her nephew is in or out of jail.”
“Good, I’m glad you agree. But I’d better be ready to deal with Etta Mae’s disappointment if Lurline holds out for more.” I leaned over and tapped the last figure on the page. “This offer, I’ll have to tell her, will be our best and final.”
Chapter 40
Steeling myself to stand firm in spite of an urge to meet Lurline’s price regardless of the consequences, I stiffened my intent to protect Etta Mae from a loan she could not repay. So, to prepare her for disappointment if Lurline turned us down, I made sure that she understood we were making our final offer.
“It doesn’t make sense to go any higher,” I told her on our next phone call. “You’d be strapped to make the loan payments, and I told you that I wouldn’t let you go beyond what the business will support. Of course,” I went on, adding a little encouragement, “if you expanded the business, it would, but we can’t count on that at this point. I want you to enjoy being the owner, not constantly worrying about making ends meet. And another thing, if this doesn’t pan out, we’ll look around for something else. In other words, Etta Mae, it will work out one way or the other.”
