by Ann B. Ross
—
I woke on Christmas Eve morning more determined than ever to lock down the purchase of The Handy Home Helpers and to do something about a sad little girl. My musings on exactly what could be done about either were interrupted by a phone call from Etta Mae, who still needed reassurance that The Handy Home Helpers would soon be hers.
“Miss Julia,” she said as if trying to catch her breath, “sorry to bother you, but would you just tell me one more time that Lurline really said she’d sell to you and that you will really own it and that you will really sell it to me?”
I laughed. “It’s really true, Etta Mae, or will be when we close, and she’s committed to closing the sale.” At least, I thought, Lurline has said she’s committed. But if she couldn’t get Bug out of jail and she didn’t get the signed offer back to Mr. Blair by three o’clock, I had a big decision to make. I didn’t, however, share my concerns with Etta Mae.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I just wanted to be sure. I keep trying to picture Lurline deciding to actually sell. I mean, after telling me she was putting Bug in charge. Something really changed her mind, because she dropped him so fast, his head must still be swimming.”
“I think she just came to her senses, and lucky for us that she did. Now,” I said, so she’d know I was changing subjects, “can we expect you and your friend, Deputy Moser, for dinner on Christmas?”
A certain, very pregnant pause ensued. “I didn’t RSVP, did I? Oh, Miss Julia, I am so sorry. You’ll never trust me with a business if I can’t do the right thing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I knew you had a lot on your mind, so the two of you just come on. Your places are already set and waiting for you.”
“Well, thank you, but I want you to know that I do know better, and I feel awful about it.”
“Oh, I counted on you both because Granny Wiggins is coming, and I assumed she’d be coming with you. And I’m looking forward to getting to know your friend better.”
She giggled. “I am, too.”
After hanging up, I was more determined than ever to hold Lurline’s feet to the fire. If Bug played on her heartstrings long enough, she could try to renege on her commitment to sell. And if she did, I decided then and there, I would sue her up one side and down the other. I was through playing around with that woman and, as my patience ran out with her, I thought of another woman I was also through playing around with.
Chapter 51
There were still many last-minute things to do to prepare for our Christmas guests, but I was undaunted in my intention to tell Mildred exactly what I thought of the way she was treating her grandchild. Just because it was Christmas Eve didn’t mean that I had to be merry and bright all day long.
“Mildred,” I said when she answered her phone, “I know you have a lot on you right now, but—”
“Oh, Julia,” she broke in, “I’m so glad you called. You won’t believe what I’m doing. I’m sitting here in Horace’s office where he keeps his datebook, his calendar, and all the golf and tennis trophies he won at various country clubs. And,” she went on with a sigh, “also, photograph albums, old notes from friends, and all kinds of mementos from the past. I never knew how sentimental he was to have kept all this stuff, and I have to decide what to send with him and what to throw out. But it’s heartbreaking to look at the things he so obviously treasured.”
Hearing that was almost enough to deter me from adding more to the burden Mildred was already bearing. But not quite enough.
“Mildred,” I said again, “I know this is a poor time to bring it up, but time has almost—”
“I found it, Julia,” she said so softly that I barely heard her. All I knew was that her mind was still stuck on the track it had started on, and that she was not listening to me.
“Found what?” I asked, being too easily deterred from my intention.
“Her picture,” Mildred said, her voice muffled. “He’s kept it all these years. And the minute I saw it, I remembered.”
“Well, listen, Mildred, there’s only one day left to shop and you really should—”
“She was a tiny, little thing,” Mildred mused. “Everybody said she had a waist like Scarlett O’Hara’s, but I remember Horace saying that she looked like an underfed waif to him, which was just to put me off because he’s kept her picture all these years.”
“Who, Mildred? Who’re you talking about?”
“Jane Smith,” she said and began to sob. “I’m talking about Jane Smith, the girl . . . the girl he thought he’d married. Well,” she went on, obviously regaining control, “he can just dream on. I’m tearing this up right now. He’ll have to get along on his memories if he has any left.”
“Mildred . . . ,” I began, hardly knowing what to say.
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m not having it in my house and I’m not sending it with him. The idea of still mooning over a girl who has to be sixty years old if she’s a day is just unbelievable. And, Julia, this just proves I was right. He was seeing her while we were engaged. He denied it, but I knew in my heart after that last debutante ball that he was smitten. But I thought he’d gotten over her when we married because he never gave me any cause to worry after that.” She stopped to blow her nose. “Of course that was after Daddy had a talk with him.
“Still,” she went on, “it’s just devastating to find out that she’s still on his mind, and . . .” Full-fledged sobbing was all I could hear.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” I said, losing all sympathy and recapturing my reason for calling. “Get over it, Mildred, and count yourself lucky that you’ve had a faithful husband. Some people, as you know, haven’t been so fortunate. And, besides, Horace is no longer responsible for anything he does or has done in the past. Tear up that picture if you want to, but let the rest of it go. You have more important things to think about, and the main one is your granddaughter. You have just today to shop so she can have a halfway decent Christmas from you.”
“You mean,” Mildred said with more than a touch of bitterness, “the granddaughter foisted on me by a thoughtless daughter who I barely even know anymore? You mean the one who chopped off so much of her hair that I can hardly bear to look at her?” Then just as quickly, Mildred’s voice took on a self-pitying tone. “I am trying my best, Julia, to put up with what I have to deal with, but it’s just one thing after another. I don’t know how I can stand much more. So the idea of going shopping today, and where, I ask you. Walmart? No, thank you. I have a couple of things for her, some socks and sweaters and a nice coat I ordered some while back. Penelope or whatever her name is will just have to understand that this is not the time for celebrating anything.”
“Oh,” I said, “I think she already understands that.” And I hung up.
And, still steaming, called right back. “Sorry, Mildred, but I didn’t finish. All I want to say is that Santa Claus needs to stop at your house tonight, and you need to make sure he does. You simply cannot let Penelope get up on Christmas morning and find that it’s just another day of mourning over what should have been for you. In other words, start thinking of someone besides yourself, and if that makes you mad, then so be it. But get up from there and get that child some Christmas presents before the stores close. And now I’m hanging up again.” And I did.
Still in the throes of righteous anger, I could barely recall what I’d actually said to my longtime friend from what I’d left out but wished I’d said. But at least something got said that I hoped would redound to Penelope’s benefit.
Unless, I thought with an awful sinking feeling, I’d made Mildred so angry that not only would our friendship be ended, but Penelope would suffer the consequences as well.
And I immediately began to regret lashing out as I’d done. I should’ve stayed out of the business of other people just as I’d promised myself I would do. But then I thought of Ett
a Mae and how happy she was because I’d been involved just a little in her life. And that reminded me that we were still waiting on Lurline’s official acceptance of my Offer to Purchase.
So, as the afternoon began to lengthen even the Christmas carols playing on Lillian’s kitchen radio couldn’t lift my spirits. All afternoon, I fretted over Mildred’s state of mind and over the possibility of Lurline changing hers. Had I ruined a friendship and, in the process, made things worse for Penelope? Had I given Lurline too much rope and Bug had latched onto it? I declare, I was fast losing all the Christmas spirit that had been building during the week.
But then the phone rang, and it was Mildred. At least she was still speaking to me, unless she’d called to let me have it with both barrels.
Instead, she murmured, “I just called to remind you that I do have a couple of things for Penelope. I have Doreen wrapping them now. And I’ve been thinking that maybe you’re right, and I should make it a better Christmas for her. There’s no use making her miserable just because I am. I know it’s getting late, but do you know what will be open?”
“Walmart,” I said, “just as you said. That is, if they haven’t sold out of everything. Go now, and get Ida Lee to go with you. I promise you, Mildred, you’ll feel better when you make sure that Santa Claus comes to your house.”
There was a long pause, then Mildred said, “You know what I could do? I mean, since I didn’t put up a tree? I can have a treasure hunt, so Penelope has to follow clues all over the house to find her gifts. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Sorry to cut you off, Julia, but I’ve got to get busy.”
Not at all minding being cut off, I hung up with a smile on my face. And it stayed there until Joe Blair called at three o’clock.
“Ah, Mrs. Murdoch,” he said, somewhat hesitantly, “I’ve just had a call from Ms. Corn, calling from her car. She’s on her way back from South Carolina, and wants me to tell you that she has the signed offer with her. She’ll drop it by my office in about an hour. She hopes you’ll forgive her for being late, but it couldn’t be helped. Her nephew . . . well, you know.”
If it had been just me without Etta Mae’s involvement, I would’ve dropped The Handy Home Helpers then and there. Some people can just push you to the edge, you know, and I was teetering on it. But I controlled myself and said, “Tell her that this is the absolute last extension, so she’d better not have a wreck on her way. And tell her I want a copy of that offer with her signature on it before five thirty. After that I’m going to church and Ms. Corn can look for another buyer.”
“Uh, well, she really wants to know who the buyer is now. She says nobody can figure out your signature. Do you mind if I tell her?”
“I certainly do mind! She’ll find out at the closing, which you can set up any time she wants—the sooner the better. But for now, she has to be satisfied with the price she’s getting unless she comes up with another delay, in which case she’ll never find out because I’ll be through.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll bring you a copy as soon as I get the offer.”
* * *
—
He was ringing my doorbell about an hour before the Christmas Eve service was to begin. I quickly scanned the copy, smiled at Lurline Corn’s very neat and very legible signature, and wished Mr. Blair a Merry Christmas.
Showing it to Sam, I said, “I’d love to show this to Etta Mae, but I don’t want her to know how much I paid for it.”
Sam smiled. “That’s between you and the Lord, right?”
I smiled back, and went upstairs to put the finishing touches to my attire for church when the phone rang again.
“Julia,” Mildred said in a tone that got my attention in a hurry. “You won’t believe what’s happened now. I sent Ida Lee and Doreen to Walmart to buy some toys for Penelope. They went in my car because it has a trunk and Ida Lee’s doesn’t. You have to be careful about theft at this time of year, you know. And I was just too tired to face the crowds, and now Ida Lee just called to say that they’ve been in an accident. Somebody ran into them just as they pulled into the parking lot, and my new car’s torn up and the police are there and the EMTs are on the way, and I am about to lose my mind!”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Were they hurt?”
“Well, Ida Lee was able to call me, so I guess she’s all right. Doreen, though, is being looked at, whatever that means. And on top of that, I’ve just been notified that Horace’s evening sitter can’t come, which means he’ll be on his own until the next one comes at eleven. See, Julia, what I have to put up with? I hire sitters, then they don’t come, which is a poor way to do business even if it is Christmas Eve.”
When she paused to take a breath, I jumped in. “Can we do anything? You want us to go see about Ida Lee and Doreen?”
“No, I don’t think they need that. Ida Lee is so capable, you know, and even though she’s a little shaken up I think she has things well in hand. It’s just a matter of waiting to get the accident report, and waiting on a tow truck—the car can’t be driven—and waiting for a taxi to bring them home. I expect they’ll both need to rest and unwind when they get here—whenever that’ll be. I don’t know what I’ll do if either of them need hospitalization. But the reason I called is that I just cannot spare Penelope tonight. She can go to church with you another time, but without a sitter, I need her to keep an eye on Horace. She can read to him until somebody shows up.”
A dozen things to say flashed through my mind, but I was so dismayed and disappointed that I couldn’t get anything out. I finally managed to express my condolences on the loss of her new car, the evening sitter, and the constant attendance to her needs by Ida Lee and Doreen.
After hanging up, I stood by the phone for a few minutes, trying to sort through the situation. Of course I was sorry about the accident and glad that Ida Lee and Doreen weren’t hurt, but that didn’t negate the fact that Penelope would miss not only the Christmas Eve service but the arrival of Santa Claus, as well.
Then I thought of something. “Sam?” I called, tracking him to the living room. “Do we have time to go to Walmart before church or would it be better to go afterward?”
When I told him what had happened, he folded the newspaper and stood up. “Let’s go now. The midnight service is the best one, anyway.”
Chapter 52
As Sam turned in to the huge Walmart parking lot a few minutes past six o’clock that evening, we passed a tow truck pulling out with Mildred’s injured Town Car hiked up on its hind wheels.
“My goodness,” Sam said, slowing to get a good look, “they really got whacked. Must’ve been a Mack truck to bend the frame like that.”
“I guess it was a good thing that Mildred wasn’t with them. I’d never hear the end of it.” Then, feeling bad for sounding so unsympathetic, I said, “I’m glad, though, that Ida Lee and Doreen are all right.”
We found a parking place seemingly two miles from the front of the Walmart store, and went in to find the place still full of anxious, single-minded shoppers. You’d think that people wouldn’t wait till the last night to do their shopping, wouldn’t you?
“Where to?” Sam asked as he disengaged a cart from the few remaining ones.
“The toy department,” I said. “Mildred already has some clothes for her.”
“Okay,” Sam said, making a left turn with the cart, “but somehow this all seems strangely familiar.” And we smiled at each other, recalling a similar shopping trip when Lloyd was so achingly young.
But that meant that we were experienced last-minute toy shoppers, so I led us straight to the almost empty bicycle display.
“My word,” I said, surveying the leftovers, “I hope we can find something suitable. It’s a settled fact there won’t be anybody to help us. Look for a girl’s bicycle, Sam, a small one, maybe one or two sizes up from a tricycle. I don’t care if she outgrows it in a year.”
We fo
und one and only one without the masculine bar, but it was complete with streamers on the handlebars and a bell that dinged quite pleasurably. Unhappily, though, it wasn’t pink, but at that stage of the game, blue seemed perfect especially since it was the only small one left. I liked to think that it had been waiting for us.
I took over pushing the cart because Sam pointed out that it wasn’t safe to leave the bicycle unattended as we shopped. Other eyes were already scanning the empty display area with disappointment and zooming in on our bicycle with envy, so he ended up pushing it up one aisle and down another as I filled the cart as best as I could from the depleted shelves.
“I already have a baby doll and a crayon set,” I told Sam, “and a good thing that was because the only dolls left are too mature for Penelope.”
“Um-m, too mature for me, too,” he said, eyeing the shapely dolls still waiting to be bought.
I placed in the cart a few boxes of toys and games of one kind or another—things Penelope might enjoy on rainy days—a couple of I Can Read books, and a large paint set on the assumption that she would not have bought the same for someone else unless she liked it herself.
“One more thing, Sam,” I said, “then we’ll be through.”
“Good, I’m getting tired of pushing this thing.” And he wheeled the bicycle quickly out of the way of a harried-looking woman with a glint in her eye.
When we reached the jewelry counter, I was relieved to find a saleslady ready to help us. She was the only one I’d seen in the entire store, but her being there made sense because jewelry was too tempting to be left unlocked for the perusal of the shopping public.
I selected, with Sam’s approval, a small—I hoped not too small—simple gold bangle, then, after looking with longing at a necklace with a tiny gold cross, bought it, too.
“You don’t think we’re getting too much?” Sam asked in his uncritical way of suggesting that I reconsider what I was doing.
