The Case Of The Not-So-Nice Nurse. Mabel Maney
girl with a darling short haircut checked her oil, brake fluid and tires and cleaned her windows.
“Great story,” the girl said, pointing to the book on the seat next to Cherry. “You’ll love the ending.”
“I can’t wait to finish it,” Cherry enthused, waving good-bye to the friendly girl. She put all thoughts of the two rude men out of her head and concentrated on the miles ahead of her.
So many peculiar things had happened to her in the last few days. “Once I get to San Francisco I can really relax!” she thought happily.
When Cherry pulled into the driveway of the tidy split-level house at 17 Badger Avenue, it was just after eight p.m. She knew her mother would be finishing the dinner dishes while her father sat in his easy chair, The Pleasantville Times in one hand and a highball in the other.
She wanted to surprise them, but Lady heard the car pull into the driveway, and her barking drew Mrs. Aimless to the screen door.
“It’s Cherry! Cherry’s come home!” her mother exclaimed as she flew out the front door with Lady at her heels. They raced across the front yard, Mrs. Aimless staying on the tidy brick path but Lady bounding exuberantly through the flower bed. Lady reached Cherry first, and in her enthusiasm muddied Cherry’s skirt.
“Oh, I wish I had known you were coming! Why, the house is such a mess! Oh, dear!” cried Mrs. Aimless, holding her daughter at arms length while looking her up and down. She brushed the mud from Cherry’s outfit. “Oh, I wish I could keep this dog out of my petunias. She’s ruined your skirt. Well, never mind; I never did like that shade of blue on you anyway!” The collie jumped around the two, barking with pleasure.
“And I must look a sight!” she added, taking off her apron to reveal an immaculately-tailored cream-colored shirtwaist with a scoop collar that set off her tan to perfection.
Cherry grinned. Same old mom! She hugged the older woman and assured her that she looked just fine. But Cherry was fibbing, for despite the deep tan and attractive coiffure, Mrs. Aimless looked tired. Cherry hoped her absence wasn’t putting those worry lines across her mother’s forehead.
“Is Father home?” Cherry asked, retrieving her luggage and purse from the car.
Her mother frowned. “He’s had a bad day at work, and he’s in one of his moods,” she warned. “I’d wait until he speaks to you before bothering him. Let’s go in the back way so we don’t disturb him.”
Cherry followed her mother to the back door. Once in the kitchen, they relaxed over some key lime pie and coffee. Cherry began chatting happily about her work in Seattle but was interrupted several times by questions from her mother.
“Do you have to wear those ugly white nurse’s shoes, dear?”
“Do all nurses have such short hair?”
“Have you met any attractive doctors?”
Each time Cherry tried to open her mouth, her mother interrupted with another question. Could it be that her mother didn’t want to hear about her nurse chums and their fascinating patients?
Cherry suddenly felt very tired. It had been a long drive, and her pleasure at being home had dissolved during her mother’s interrogation. A good night’s sleep will cheer me up, she thought, barely stifling a yawn.
Her mother shooed her off to bed. “There’s plenty of time for catching up, dear,” she said, kissing her good-night. “Why, we’ve got almost two whole weeks together!”
Cherry didn’t have the heart to tell her mother she was going to be in Pleasantville for only a day. She was glad she had agreed to deliver Nurse Marstad’s package. She didn’t feel quite as selfish, knowing she was going to do something important for someone else. Somehow she’d make her mother understand.
Cherry snuggled under the quilt Aunt Gertrude had made for her and yawned. Finally, it felt right to be home, safe and snug in her little attic bedroom with Lady sprawled at her feet. She was just drifting off to sleep when Lady jumped off the bed and raced to the door. “She seems awfully agitated about something,” Cherry thought as she slipped out of her warm bed, donned her pink chenille robe and fuzzy slippers, and quietly crept downstairs with Lady at her heels.
Once downstairs, the collie gave a little yelp and ran to the den, where Mr. Aimless lay fast asleep in his recliner, the pages of the evening paper scattered at his feet.
“It’s freezing in here,” Cherry shuddered, covering her father with a comforter from the davenport.
“Why, the window’s open!” she exclaimed, creeping across the room to close it, taking care not to wake her father. “Mother always closes this before she goes to bed; the wind must have blown it open. Good thing the noise woke Lady; otherwise Father might have caught a terrible cold—or worse!” She latched the window firmly.
But the collie still seemed agitated. She climbed on Mrs. Aimless’s favorite chair—an act which was strictly forbidden in the spotless Aimless house—peered out the window and growled. Cherry looked, too, but saw nothing but a quiet little street lined with majestic maple trees.
“That’s funny,” she thought. “It’s not windy at all.”
“There’s no one out there, girl,” Cherry said, scratching Lady behind the ears. “Hush.” She certainly didn’t want her father awakening in a grumpy mood, especially since tomorrow she would tell him she was going to visit her Aunt Gertrude.
“Let’s go back to bed,” she said, tugging gently on her pet’s collar. Cherry stopped in the living room long enough to find something to read, in case she couldn’t get back to sleep. All she could find stacked in tidy piles on the kidney-shaped coffee table were fashion magazines and several issues of Reader’s Digest. Nothing piqued her interest.
“I haven’t finished Lana’s book yet!” she suddenly remembered, going to the kitchen to get her purse. But it wasn’t on the table where she had left it earlier. “Mother must have moved it,” Cherry reasoned, noticing how tidy the kitchen was. But her purse wasn’t in the front hall closet, nor was it in the deacon’s bench in the entryway, where her mother stored her spare handbags. She found it in the tiny room off the garage that served as her mother’s laundry room. The contents of the purse, including the book, had been placed in a neat row on the ironing board.
“Mother is such a dear,” Cherry smiled. “She must have discovered that I spilled coffee in my handbag and cleaned it after I went to bed.” She took the book and crept back upstairs, pulling a reluctant Lady behind her. Cherry settled in for a good read, but before she could finish even one page, she was fast asleep. But for Lady, there was no such slumber. She maintained her guard all through the night from her station at the foot of Cherry’s bed.
She knew there was something out