Abide With Me (24 page)

“For prospective tenants, but also for clients and employees,” she suggested.

They turned, walked up one block and approached the old schoolhouse from the rear. He pointed to the schoolyard. “We’ll resurface the blacktop after the construction work is done.”

She noticed the rusted chain-link fence had been removed. “You’ll have parking for what? Thirty or forty cars?”

“Thirty-five, plus allowances for handicapped parking,” he replied as they crossed the pitted blacktop and followed a concrete path to the front of the brick building.

When they paused to take in a full view of the renovated school, she liked what she saw very much. The brickwork on the three-story building had been repointed. The oversize, rotting windows had been replaced with custom-made thermal windows. The old marble steps that led to a double set of doors had been repaired and polished. Even the concrete inset with the name of the school had been sand-blasted to look brand-new, and the new name of the building had been engraved directly below the name of the school.

She read the inset:

Walt Whitman School

Where the Future Begins

Whitman Commons

Where Dreams Shape the Future

All she could say was “Wow.”

“I’m glad you approve. Does being here bring back memories?”

She shook her head. “My sisters and I went to Welles School, on the other side of town. As the community grew, they built this one later. Now they’re both obsolete. I wish they’d been able to save my school instead of tearing it down. Can we go inside now? I’d love to see what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything. I’m just the dreamer. The contractor and subcontractors do all the work.” He got them inside to the inner foyer where the smell of new wood and paint drying on drywall hung heavy in the air. Tools, sawdust and drywall dust littered the floor. “Follow me, and
watch your step. They weren’t expecting tourists,” he teased.

From the inner foyer, he led her from the first floor to the second and third. He showed her where he would have his office on the third floor. The windows faced west, providing a skyline view of Philadelphia that would be even more magnificent at night. “What do you think so far?” he asked.

“I like what you’ve done here, but I like the fact that we’ve gotten to keep this building even more. I wouldn’t worry. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting tenants,” she assured him.

He shook his head. “I’m a little busy at the moment trying to recruit clients for myself. You wouldn’t happen to know a good broker, someone who might be interested in being the exclusive rental agent for Whitman Commons, would you?”

She laughed. Her hunch had been correct. “I had a feeling you’d be mentioning something like that.”

“Well? Will you do it?”

“Sure. I’ll have to do a little research first, maybe make a comparative study between rents here and in Philadelphia, as well as complexes nearby before I can suggest a fee schedule. I’ll also need a list of all the suites, square footage, that sort of thing.”

He grinned and patted his jacket pocket. “I’ve got that done. I thought we could look at the figures over lunch. We can stay in town or take a drive. I found a great little restaurant about an hour north of here we could try.”

She furrowed her brow. “That depends. What are you driving?”

“Not the Jeep. Definitely not the Jeep. I’ve got my own car. My very reliable, well-running car.”

“Then let’s head north to this restaurant you’ve discovered,” she suggested. Not because she did not want anyone in town to see them together again. Just because she liked the idea of spending the afternoon alone with this very nice…friend.

T
rue and lasting friendships were like blessings, Andrea thought. Old or new, they never disappointed. They never judged. They just existed, waiting to be affirmed and reaffirmed, over and over again, and became more precious as time passed. To Andrea, some friends like Trish Montgomery, even become sisters-by-affection, as close as real sisters and just as special.

On Monday morning, Andrea said goodbye to Trish and hung up the telephone. Trish had switched into lawyer mode the minute Andrea had explained Madge’s situation. She had promised to call Madge that afternoon after reviewing a few cases she had handled in the past that were, both fortunately and unfortunately, remarkably similar. Trish could not promise to have Sarah’s adoption completed within a matter of weeks, but she did suggest it was not impossible.

Andrea bowed her head, turned the timing over to God and made a quick call to alert Madge that Trish would be calling her later that day.

On Tuesday, Jenny arrived first for another Sisters’ Breakfast, this one marking Kathleen’s birthday. But this time, Jenny did not have to drag herself to The Diner after working a full shift in the hospital emergency room and plop herself, half-asleep, into the corner booth. She did not have to feel guilty for not getting home in time to have breakfast with Katy and Hannah, either. She had fixed breakfast for Michael and the girls before she left home. Katy and Hannah had not eaten very much. They were too excited about their cousin, Sarah, coming over to play.

Instead of waiting for Madge, who now had a perfect excuse for being late, Jenny had left to be sure she would arrive first to get the full effect when her sisters saw her new look. Fully rested, though considerably rounder than when she had been here in July for Sandra’s birthday, Jenny caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window and smiled.

No more ponytail. Staying home gave her more time with the girls. She had more time to spend on herself, too, like twenty minutes with a blow-dryer. The shoulder-length cut she had gotten yesterday at the hair salon was easy to manage and a lot more flattering. She had even painted her fingernails for the occasion, and her toes, too. She did not need makeup. Joy and contentment gave her all the glow she wanted or needed.

The Diner was usually busy today, but Caroline had still saved the booth for them. In between waiting tables and
ringing up tabs at the cash register, she brought Jenny a cup of decaf and put an empty plate in the center of the table. “That’s for the treats from the bakery that Madge will bring. What were Kathleen’s favorites?”

Jenny laughed. “She had two, sort of. Knowing Madge, she’ll get too much of both. We’ll probably need another plate, but you can wait to bring it over. I’m not sure whether or not Madge will remember both.”

Caroline looked at the waitress three tables up from them and shook her head. “Madge can remember something from twenty years ago, but these young girls I have to hire can’t get the orders straight thirty seconds after they take them. I’ll bring the plate.”

When Andrea arrived a few minutes later, Jenny wished she had brought a camera to record the look on her sister’s face. Eyes wide, Andrea slid into the booth across from Jenny. “You look wonderful! You cut your hair!”

Jenny held out her hands and wriggled her fingers. “I painted my fingernails, too.”

“And your toes, I imagine.”

Jenny laughed. “And Katy’s and Hannah’s. Michael drew the line, though. Speaking of looking good, you’re not doing so bad yourself, for an old lady, that is. Tell me! Tell me! How was your date with Bill on Sunday?”

“It wasn’t a date. We had a perfectly ordinary business meeting over lunch. He’s asked me to handle renting the other offices in the building.” She paused when Caroline delivered her usual glass of iced tea and left another empty plate on the table. “Naturally, I said yes.”

“Naturally,” Jenny quipped. “And just where did you have this business meeting?”

Andrea shrugged and added some artificial sweetener to her iced tea. “Just a restaurant. I’m sure you haven’t heard of it. It’s in a little town called Bayville, and the restaurant is right on Barnegat Bay. They have a place for boaters to pull in and dock during the summer, but it’s getting too cold now. We saw some sailboats out on the bay, though. The water looks so dark now, when the sails caught the sunshine, they were a brilliant white that I’ve never seen before.”

Jenny took a sip of coffee. “Yep. That sure sounds like a dull, ordinary business meeting to me.”

“Don’t start,” Andrea warned.

Before Jenny could press for more details, Madge arrived in a whirlwind of apologies for being late, two bakery boxes and gushing compliments about Jenny’s new look. “Sorry I’m late. Sarah slept a little later than usual today, and Russell had to leave earlier than usual to meet some deliveries for the store. Before I forget,” she added as she slid in beside Andrea, “Michael said to tell you not to rush. He’s going to take all three girls on a nature walk to collect leaves. Maybe after breakfast we can all go shopping and get the girls each a little scrapbook, the kind with the plastic pages?”

“Shop away, ladies. Some people have to work for a living,” Andrea teased.

“We’ll still have to press the leaves between waxed paper,” Jenny cautioned as she slipped the string off one of the bakery boxes. She looked inside, saw half a dozen jelly doughnuts, and put three onto a plate. “Do you remember how to do that?”

Madge opened the second box, put two extralarge corn
muffins on the second plate, and winked. “I don’t forget anything, little sister.”

Caroline appeared with a cup of decaf for Madge and to take their orders. She saw the two plates filled with doughnuts and muffins and grinned at Madge. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. What’s your pleasure today, ladies?”

Once she took their orders and left, Jenny followed tradition and did the honors. She cut the jelly doughnuts in half, just the way Kathleen had taught her. She sliced straight through the entire jelly center so each side was the full length of the doughnut. Next, she sliced the corn muffins, top to bottom, into six thin slivers. She used a spoon to scoop a bit of jelly from the doughnut and spread it on each slice of muffin.

They each took a piece and held it up as a toast.

With memories untouched by the passing of time, Jenny was able to speak from her heart through the tears that blurred her vision. “We remember you, Kathleen. Your sweet smile. Your sweet disposition, and the sweet sound of your laughter. Happy birthday, honeybun,” she murmured. Her voice caught when she used the nickname she had given her sister. Kathleen had always laughed and said in return, “If I’m your honeybun, then you’re my sugar cookie.”

Jenny had not been able to eat sugar cookies for a long time after Kathleen’s passing eight years ago.

“No tears today. That’s the rule,” Andrea teased. “Sisters’ Breakfasts are supposed to be happy, remember?”

Jenny brushed away a tear. “I’m pregnant. I get weepy. I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Andrea replied. “You were closer in age to
Kathleen than we were, so why don’t you start today with a story. A funny one,” she suggested before nibbling at her jelly muffin.

“And not the bunny story. You told that last year,” Madge cautioned between bites.

Jenny took a couple of deep breaths, glimpsed her pink fingernails and smiled. “A funny story? Okay. How about the time Kathleen decided to play a joke and painted everyone’s toenails while they were asleep? That was pretty funny.”

Madge choked on her muffin. “That was not funny! She painted every one of our toenails a different color!”

Andrea nodded. “And those were the days when it took a lot of elbow grease to get that polish off.”

Jenny frowned. “She painted Daddy’s toes, too, and
he
thought it was funny.”

“Daddy never got mad at anything,” Andrea countered.

Madge shrugged. “We were sisters. We always got mad at something one of us did, but we got over it.”

“Or we got a lecture from Mother,” Jenny said.

Madge volunteered to go next, but she had to wait to tell her story until Caroline had delivered their breakfasts. “Once upon a time, you were just a baby, Jenny, so you don’t remember this, but Andrea should. While the ‘big three’ were in school, Kathleen was home with Mother and you. Kathleen was helping Mother with the laundry. Mother had just gotten her first dryer, remember?”

Andrea smiled. “I remember. If she had turned down that dryer, I think I would have cried for a month of wash days.”

Puzzled, Jenny stopped eating her omelet to listen as Andrea explained. “Mother and Daddy couldn’t afford a dryer,
so she used to hang her wash outside to dry. Summer or winter, it didn’t matter. Unless it rained. Then she’d hang it downstairs in the basement to dry.”

“Until we got old enough to help,” Madge continued. “Usually, that meant coming in from school and taking down the wash. When you were born, that meant diapers. Lots and lots of cloth diapers. Disposable diapers hadn’t been invented yet.”

Andrea shivered. “Come winter, those diapers would freeze on the line and so would our fingers when we took the diapers down and brought them inside. They’d be as stiff as a board before they thawed enough to drape over the chairs in the kitchen to dry. That’s why I wanted that dryer.”

“Who gave it to her?” Jenny asked.

Madge giggled. “Her friend, Mrs. Riley, better known to her fellow fans at the racetrack as Bettin’ Betty.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “The poor soul was addicted to gambling, and she loved horse races the best. She’d slip over to the track during racing season, catch the first couple of races, and get home before the children got in from school. She won the Daily Double one day, used her winnings to buy a dryer and had it delivered to Mother as a surprise.”

“Mother didn’t know what to do,” Andrea murmured. “The dryer was a gift, but it was bought with ‘ill-gotten’ gains. Daddy tried to talk her into accepting the dryer, but she had to talk to the pastor before she’d accept it, thank God.”

“Actually, I think the pastor said, ‘Thank God and say a prayer for Mrs. Riley every time you use the dryer.’ So that’s what Mother did,” Madge explained.

Jenny resumed eating her omelet. “That’s a good story about Mother that I’ve never heard before, but I don’t see how that involves Kathleen, and it’s not funny, either.”

“I got sidetracked, but I’m not finished,” Madge replied. “Okay, so now Mother had a dryer and Kathleen would help her. She decided that your plain white diapers were a little boring, so when Mother was busy setting the dial on the dryer, Kathleen tossed a handful of crayons inside on top of the wet diapers, and shut the door. When the load was finished drying, the diapers certainly weren’t white anymore. Mother never did get all of the crayon out of them.”

Jenny laughed out loud, but if either of her two girls had done that, it would not have been quite so funny.

“There’s a theme here, one I hadn’t realized about Kathleen before,” Andrea suggested. “She loved color a lot, didn’t she? I remember now how she loved her crayons and paints. That’s all she ever asked for as presents.”

“Maybe that’s why she dreamed of becoming an interior designer,” Madge murmured. “She never had much of a chance to make that dream come true. She was sick for so long…”

Jenny swallowed hard. Kathleen was first diagnosed with leukemia when she was a senior in high school. She had fought the disease, off and on, for the next seventeen years of her life. She had never finished college. She had never married or had children. She had been too busy trying to survive. Jenny took a deep breath and stifled her fears for Andrea’s health and her own worries that cancer might one day invade her own world with Michael and the children. “Kathleen had a dream, but it never came true for her.
Maybe…maybe that’s why it’s important for us to hold on to our own dreams and to work as hard as we can to make them come true and to know how blessed we are when they do.”

Madge nodded. “I thought I had my dream of a happy marriage, but now I know I took that dream for granted.” She paused and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I still have that dream and with God’s help, Russell and I will make our marriage happy and whole again. It’s not easy right now. I know I’ll never be able to forget what he did. I just keep praying I’ll be able to forgive him completely. I’m just very, very grateful right now that Andrea’s friend has agreed to help us get Sarah’s adoption handled quickly.”

Andrea smiled and reached down to take Madge’s hand. “You both know my dream—good health. When I find myself growing weary of the battle, I try to remember Kathleen’s strength and her sense of humor and her sweet smile when she told us she could no longer win the war.”

The mood was more somber than usual as they finished eating. Jenny thought maybe it was because Kathleen had been gone for so long now and they realized how time was making their memories fade just a little. Maybe it was because so much had happened in the last three months since they had gotten together for Sandra’s birthday.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the older they got, the more they all realized how precious dreams could really be and how little time they had to make those dreams come true.