Edwina (16 page)

“Daddy,” Edwina interrupted before he called
for the moving truck, “I can’t live with you and Victoria, you know
that. I’m too used to living on my own. There are plenty of
apartments... I’ll find an efficiency and a part-time job to cover
expenses. I’ll need up-front money for my classes and books, that’s
all. I don’t want to use my savings.”

“Good decision on all counts. When are you
coming? September is barely a month off.”

“I know. Let me get my thoughts together.
I’ll let you know as soon as I know.” Edwina put the phone down.
Perhaps she should have spent time looking for a job locally before
making her decision to further her education. She could always
start the second semester. Dipping into her savings was not an
option.

For two weeks she pounded the pavement
dropping off resumes, dressing for success, and making the
necessary appointments. She even made an index card for each
attempt. There were two offers, both unacceptable for one reason or
another.

Cecelia called and said the Gillespies were
due to arrive Thursday afternoon. Would she come and help out?

“Yes, I need a break. You’d think since I’m
not working every day I would have all the time in the world, but
I’ve been searching for a job.”

“A job? I thought you decided to go back for
your master’s.”

“You’ve talked to Father then?”

“Mother, but that doesn’t matter.”

“
Well, I’m not sure yet. I
might change my mind and find a new job.”

Edwina heard the disapproval in her sister’s
well- educated, well-modulated voice. She believed in a good
education too, but it wasn’t everything. She was finding out
nothing was certain, not even a bachelor’s degree and a job she’d
hoped to grow old in.

“They’ll arrive here at O’Hare on Thursday at
8:30 a.m., so if you want to come on Monday, I could sure use the
help. Spencer is on vacation, and the house is an absolute fright.
He returns Wednesday, thank heavens.”

Edwina’s calendar was empty. All loose ends
had been tied up long ago, so it was an easy decision. “I’ll be
there early, so I can clean your already immaculate apartment.”

“Oh, you have no idea, Ed—Look, someone’s
beeping in, and for heaven’s sake, Edwina, bring a few nice
clothes. We’ll be entertaining the Gillespie’s, and this production
thing just has to be perfect.”

“It will be fine.” Edwina spoke to dead
space. Her sister had already clicked to the other call.

“At least I’ll be busy, and I can call home
for messages in case I get an interviewing call,” she said to the
air. Then, “I need to get a cat.”

On the way to pack, she stopped in the hall
and stared at her face in the mirror. It looked pale. Hooking her
thick hair behind her ears, she knew it was time for a makeover.
But how should a recently unemployed librarian look anyway?

She rubbed her eyelids and smoothed the skin
beneath her eyes. Yes, maybe a new hairstyle would lift her
spirits. Her long, straight hair was mostly pulled back with combs
or secured primly in a ponytail at the base of her neck. A simple
style for a simple librarian.

Edwina shrugged and said aloud, “But I’m not
a librarian anymore, so maybe I should consider a new look. . . .”
Her thoughts trailed off, already forgotten. She hated to worry
about things like style and perms and greasy lipstick, not to
mention blush. Why did a female need two pink dots on her cheeks
anyway?

“Hmm, a few nice clothes.” Those were
Cecelia’s exact words. Exactly what did that mean? She pulled the
black dress from the closet first and packed her new black flats
and the Birkenstocks. She had learned from her sister those shoes
were more important than gold to the gold diggers in 1849. History,
she knew. Style, she didn’t have a clue.

Monday morning started early. Up and showered
by six a.m. she was ready to pack. Twenty minutes later she was
still rifling through her meager stack of skirts. Two were
acceptable, but even they were a little outdated. Now tops, she had
a slew of those. The local Goodwill store was an eleven-block trek.
Every single top she owned had come from that store. Perhaps—she
checked her watch. Yep, still time to make it, if she walked
quickly.

Today was her lucky day, at least that’s how
she felt leaving the store. They’d had a new shipment since her
last visit, and even she thought her choices outstanding, not to
mention prices. Half-price sale day. She’d missed that in the
newspaper, what with all the job searching and everything. She
never missed half-price sale days.

The best find had been a long flowing skirt.
It had a cream background with soft purple pansies and green vines.
Then when a cream colored top appeared right before her eyes, she
snatched it up immediately. An armful of clothes today—twice the
value for half the cost.

She’d walked out laughing and talking with
the sales lady. They were pretty good friends, and the woman loved
to read.

Humming, she climbed the stairs with the
bagful of purchases and unlocked the door. It was an especially
beautiful day. First came the sorting of clothes and a gentle wash
in the machine.

Rhythm and blues played from the old radio
she’d gotten for a mere five dollars. She tuned to a more upbeat
station and laid out her clothes. She knew not to pack too many.
She would surely receive Cecelia’s disapproval on most every- thing
anyway and would no doubt be carted off to Marshall Field’s, just a
few blocks from her condo, to purchase another dress that cost as
much as her monthly car payment.

This felt like a small adventure. Not as huge
as Scotland had been, but a venture out into something new, no
less. And it would be good to see the Gillespies.

With everything folded neatly into one small
case, she sat down at the table as the sun was heading downward
toward the horizon. A grilled cheese sandwich filled her up after
her one excessive purchase that afternoon in town—a small sack of
Charlie Chaplain from Veni’s Sweet Shop, her favorite corner
chocolate shop in the center of town. Chocolate, marshmallow, and
pecans. Even now she wished she’d saved a piece.

Edwina noticed that clouds hung heavy in a
dark blue sky. “It’s going to storm and after such a nice day...,”
she murmured as she slipped her feet into her old flats. She would
keep the well-worn shoes forever. The case came down in one trip,
along with her red umbrella and were stashed in the front seat. A
breeze stirred the blue-green air that was charged with
electricity. She could envision the white streaks zigzagging across
the sky any minute.

The white Volkswagen pulled out of the drive
and she was off. A sense of gladness at her freedom washed over
her. With a push of a miniature button, she searched and found an
easy-listening station. It seemed to match her melancholy, yet
happy mood. She turned on her windshield wipers. Things were bound
to change. She could feel it in her bones.

Chapter 28

T
he loss of her job had swung her first into a nervous frenzy,
then into a strange calm. At least her life was not like it had
been for three years running. Exactly the same thing every day,
every night, every weekend. The trip to Scotland had been the
catalyst that began the change in her present life. She’d been
thrown into the situation, wasted her vacation, which she now knew
was a gift she couldn’t have possibly planned, and finally realized
that indeed things had worked out well enough—at least for the
present time.

See, things are not that
bad
.

An hour later and fifty miles behind her, the
sun came out from behind the dark clouds. Rolling down the windows,
she let the rain blow off the vehicle, the moistness spraying her
face and frizzing her hair.

Safely parked in Cecelia’s lot space, she
drug the heavy suitcase to the elevator, which brought her to the
twelfth floor. Setting down her case, she fished in the secret
compartment of her purse and found the key. Needing to use the
bathroom, she quickly put the key in the lock. Nothing. She twisted
and tried again. It would not open.

“Now what?”

A door opened down the hall, and she swung
around. A man’s head popped out.

“Thought I heard something.” He came out the
door, a long-handled duster in his hand. “Cece changed the locks.
You Ed?”

“Yes.” Her face turned pink. More than
anything she needed to use the bathroom.

“Come in down here if you don’t mind. I’m in
the back forty.” He swung his arm for her to follow.

She hurried behind him, suitcase bumping
behind her.

“Sorry, I should have gotten that for you,”
he said and dropped the duster and handed her the bag. “Where would
you like it?”

“Anywhere’s fine.” She shot past him.

“Spencer Hallman’s the name,” he called
out.

“Hi Spencer, back in a minute.” She slammed
the door.

It had taken extra time to arrive because of
the weather. Too long.

Sheepishly, she made her way toward the sound
of foot- steps in her sister’s bedroom.

“I’m sorry. Long drive.”

“No problem. Spencer Hallman’s the name,” he
said again and pulled off rubber gloves, sticking out his hand.
“Cecelia’s housemaid—houseman, if you want to be proper.”

“I thought you were on vacation.” She caught
his eye. “Cece said you were going to be out of town.”

“Change of plans.”

His smile was full-faced. Edwina liked him
immediately. He was probably thirty-something.

“So what brings you here?” she asked. “I mean
to clean for Cecelia?”

“Ah, a poor college man with a degree and a
dump load of tuition to pay back.”

“Sounds familiar.” She picked up the glove
he’d dropped without noticing.

“
Thanks.”

“I’m Edwina Blair, Cecelia’s sister.
Stepsister,” she corrected before she recognized the look of
surprise that such a beauty and such a plain Jane could possibly be
related. She hated the fact that she felt compelled to explain.

“Oh, the sister with the degree and no
job.”

“How’d you know?” Edwina planted her hands on
her hip bones.

Spencer shrugged. “Cecelia talks. You should
know that.”

“I do,” Edwina admitted. “But you should also
know she’s livid.”

“Livid? What did I do?”

“It’s not what you did, it’s what they did to
you.” He pointed at her, laughing.

“Me?”

“Of course. Cecelia’s a fighter. When she
sees a wrong done, she loves a good battle and the thrill of
victory. Believe me, she’d like to come to that town of yours and
fight city hall with her bare hands.”

“She’d win too.” Edwina smiled lightly. “I’m
starved. Think I’ll get out of your way and get something to eat.
It’s almost two o’clock.”

“Hold on. I just cleaned the kitchen. It’s
perfect, just like Cecelia likes it. You’d better let me handle
messing it up again.”

“Oh, well... I’ll just go out. There’s a
pizza place not far.”

“No need. We can steal a sandwich. I made a
bucket of chicken salad for the luncheon. Besides, I could use a
break myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Sure enough to know I’m starving. Least she
could do is share a couple of sandwiches.”

Edwina watched while he pulled off his work
gloves, washed his hands in Cecelia’s elegant pink and crème bath-
room, then led the way to the kitchen.

Edwina noticed his slender build, quick step,
and blond hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. Much
the way she wore hers.

“You like your bread toasted or plain? White
or wheat?”

“Wheat and toasted.”

“Good, me too. We’ll get along just fine,” he
said, reaching inside the refrigerator.

“So, you have a degree. What did you
study?”

“I’m a chef. A work in progress,” he said and
shrugged. “Nevertheless, I’m a food connoisseur. Studying under
Francois Maxwell—the best.”

“The best,” she agreed. “Compliments via
Cecelia?”

“Of course. She knows everybody, and can
sweet-talk any chosen subject to do her bidding. Including me.”

“You know my sister well.” Edwina sat on the
chair he pulled out.

“I’ll muss, you discuss.”

“Discuss what?” She couldn’t help but smile.
She certainly had nothing to tell. Her life was too
predictable.

“Anything your heart desires. I like to
converse when I’m preparing.”

“Well... where did you get your hallowed
degree?”

“The Cooking and Hospitality Institute here
in Chicago.”

“Ah, the best.”

“Always the best. My parents would never
settle for anything less than the best. I’m the only son out of
five siblings. They’ve got me pegged for their major financial
provider.”

“Oh boy. I pity you.”

“
You pity me! I pity
myself. I am expected to have my own restaurant and a name as big
or bigger than Emeril or Wolfgang Puck, whichever is
greater.”

“Poor thing.” She felt humor rising up from
somewhere inside.

“You got that right. All my sisters are
waiting for me to land the big one, so my parents tell me. College
tuition, you know.”

“And you must perform exquisitely.”

Spencer looked up from the toast he was
spreading with a thin coat of butter as though it were a work of
art. “Right again.”

His face was handsome. And he worked out. She
could see the muscles beneath his shirt. Bright blue eyes caught
her blue ones for a second. They’d connected. Her heart did a
flip-flop. Where had that come from?

“So... what’s your favorite meal to fix?” She
couldn’t let the dead silence keep filling the room.

“Ah, now that’s a toss-up. First choice is
shrimp cream sauce over linguini. Second choice is pizza, but I
never, ever say that on my résumé.”