Heiress. Irene Brand
“Even Celestine? I’ve already asked her to call me by my given name.”
His widening smile made his face relaxed and generous. “Celestine is in a different category—she mothers all of us. We can always count on her to smooth over the ill feelings.”
He dropped a tip on the table and stood up. “I have to be on my way, Miss Sayre. I’m expecting a telephone call at ten o’clock, and I must be home by then. May I drop you off at the hotel?”
“No, thank you. I’ll finish my tea before I call a taxi.”
“Very well. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”
Allison stared down at the teacup and blinked her eyelids to hold back the tears. She thought Benton’s behavior was downright rude, but she had to admit she had brought it upon herself. She shouldn’t have asked to join him. After working ten hours, he had probably had enough of Page Publishing for one day, but that didn’t keep her from feeling lonely.
After returning to the hotel, Allison took a sheet of stationery from the drawer and wrote a short note to her sister, Cleta:
Don’t say anything about this to the others, but please look in that photo album I showed you, remove the picture of Donald and me with Benton Lockhart and mail it to me. You’ll know which one I mean.
This encounter tonight had almost convinced her that she had not found the Benton Lockhart she had admired, but she wanted to take another look at that photo.
Adra was watching for Allison the next morning, and moving quickly for a man with his age and girth, he hustled down the front steps when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house and opened the right-hand door.
“You can park in the driveway to the left of the house, Allison. That belongs to you, and it will be a lot safer than if we try to unload here on the street. Neil Avenue has a lot of traffic on Saturday mornings.”
He closed the door and she eased the automobile into the narrow driveway that led to a one-car garage separated from the house.
Minerva opened and closed the kitchen door as Adra and Allison emptied her car and carried her things upstairs. When they’d finished, Allison said, “Should I put my car in the garage?”
“Our truck is in there now, but we can move it out,” Adra offered.
“Oh, no, my car is used to sitting out in the weather.” She locked the car doors, and they went into the warm kitchen, where Minerva had some hot chocolate for them.
The sun shone through the windows while they sat at the round table in the alcove, and the friendliness of these two people softened the hard core that had been around her heart since last night’s episode with Benton. They chatted as if she were family—they didn’t seem to think an employer-employee relationship was so important.
The McRameys had no children, and they had sold their farm and moved to Columbus several years ago. “I miss being in the country,” Adra said, “but our property was right at the edge of the city and developments kept edging closer, making the property so valuable that we couldn’t afford to pay our taxes. So we sold out, and when we were looking for a place, we were directed to Mr. Page. He needed some help and we needed a home. It’s been a good life for us.”
“What was the nature of Uncle Harrison’s illness? No one has told me.”
Minerva tapped her chest. “Heart trouble. He had a series of heart attacks that damaged his heart. The last few months he had to have oxygen and constant monitoring, and he chose to go to the nursing home, although we would have taken care of him.”
“I believe Aunt Sarah’s trouble was multiple sclerosis?”
“Yes, she was very young when the doctors diagnosed her. She was an intelligent woman and talented, but she hardly left the house after we came here, and he stayed close by her in the evenings, waiting on her hand and foot,” Minerva said. “He acted guilty sometimes, as if he blamed himself for her sickness and couldn’t do enough to make up for it. She died seven years ago. His life wasn’t easy.”
“I wish I could have known them,” Allison said as she stood up. “I must get busy if I’m unpacked and ready to go to work on Monday. My time will be limited after that.”
“If there’s anything we can do, let us know. I cleared everything out of the closets and chests in your room and the other bedrooms have empty closets. For storage, there are rooms on the third floor we don’t use.”
“Perhaps we can store the boxes up there after I’ve unpacked.”
“Just let Adra know. I’m simmering a pot of soup in our apartment. Plan to eat lunch with us, and I’ll prepare your dinner down here. There’s a small door you can take from the second floor to access our stairway. Come on up when you’re ready to eat.”
Allison had organized her garments by seasonal wear and marked the boxes accordingly. She unpacked her winter clothes and hung them in the room she would occupy, and carried the boxes of spring and summer clothing into one of the spare bedrooms. She would leave them packed for the time being. She stopped at noon and took the stairs to the McRameys’ quarters.
The small stairway opened into their living room, a central squarish area that accessed the other major rooms. The kitchen was marked by a spire that served as a skylight over the McRameys’ table. Their two bedrooms featured dormer windows. After lunch Minerva took Allison into the storage area—odd-shaped rooms that provided plenty of space. The rooms were crowded with castoffs, and Minerva said, “When you have time, you may want to go through here and throw away a lot of stuff. Some of it is junk and should never have been stored.”
Rubbing her hand along a dusty dresser, Allison said with a laugh, “If it’s been here for years, I’ll not worry about it now. If I learn how to manage Page Publishing, I’ll have all I can do for a long time.” And she was determined to learn the business, whether or not Benton was willing to help her. “I’ll have my sister and brother come for a visit sometime and turn them loose up here. They’ll carry away everything my mother will let them have.” She had been thinking about her parents off and on all day, and she said slowly, “My mother didn’t want me to move to Columbus.”
A note of wistfulness must have crept into Allison’s voice, for Minerva’s arm circled her shoulders. “Mothers are like that,” she said. “We all have to cast off on our own eventually. You’ll be all right.”
“I want to spend some time looking around this house, getting to know what is here. Perhaps that way I can learn something about my aunt and uncle.”
“A good idea. You’ll find lots of reminders of them.”
“I’m going to telephone my parents and tell them where I am, and then I’ll get busy again.”
She went into the library to phone and was relieved when her father answered, for she felt better able to cope with him than her mother.
“I’ve moved into Uncle Harrison’s home, Daddy, and I want you to have my telephone number.”
“Are you living there alone?”
“No, a fine couple who have worked for Uncle Harrison for years will be staying with me. I like them, and we’ll get along well, I’m sure.”
“Do you like the house?”
“It’s unbelievable, and not as I would have expected a hundred-year-old dwelling to be. It’s in excellent repair. Uncle Harrison had it refurbished over the past several years. There are ten rooms besides the third floor where the McRameys live, and a full-sized basement—certainly more room and luxury than I need, but Mr. Curnutt thought I should live here for a few months before I make any decision about selling it.”
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