Leota's Garden (20 page)

Nora itched to grab her car keys and drive to Oakland. She wanted to tell her daughter what she thought and how she felt. The hot words were already bubbling, the steam building. Oh, the sacrifices she had made. And did Anne even appreciate them? No! It was bad enough that Anne refused to go to college. It was bad enough that she had run out on all of the wonderful, painstaking plans made for her. It was bad enough that she had gone off to live like some bohemian in the city. But
this . . .

“She’s gone to visit with her grandmother in Oakland.”

It was nothing short of betrayal.

Annie drove across the Bay Bridge, the portfolio of Great-Aunt Joyce’s work on the seat beside her. Grandma Leota had insisted she take it. “It’s been up in the attic all these years, dear. You take it home with you. It’s part of your heritage. Maybe looking at those pictures will encourage you with your art.”

And she had given her a thin box that contained an exquisite hand-embroidered handkerchief with lace edging. “Your great-grandmother made it. She sold things like that. She wasn’t able to do anything else because of her poor health. Just hankies and embroidered pillowcases and the like. She made crocheted lace, but I don’t have any of that left to show you. She’d send me down to a fancy millinery shop a few blocks from where we lived and have me sell it to the lady there. I can remember my mother sitting by the front window where the sunlight would spill in on her. All day she would sit there and do needlework.”

Annie had never seen such beautiful work and said so. Her grandmother had been so pleased. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? I knew you’d appreciate it.”

It would look wonderful pinned to black velvet and put in an antique frame. The next time she went down to the art supply store on Market, she would buy what she needed.

When she entered the flat, Barnaby let out a screech. “Call 911! Call 911!”

“Oh, hush, you dumb bird!” Susan said from the bathroom, where she was brushing her hair. “You’ve gotten us into enough trouble today!”

“What happened?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Annie laughed. “That bad?”

“Worse than bad. Catastrophic.” She stuck her head out the door. “But there’s no time to tell you about it now. We have to leave for work in fifteen minutes. Are you going to have something to eat?”

“I took Chinese to my grandmother’s.” She added some bits of fruit to Barnaby’s bowl. “Here you go, my fine, feathered friend.”

“Polly wants a cracker.”

“Dumb bird,” Susan said, coming out of the bathroom. “Your name is Barnaby, and you don’t eat crackers!”

“Polly wants a cracker.”

“Tough,” Susan said. “Fruit it is, buddy.”

“Call 911!”

Annie laughed and headed for the bathroom to change her clothes, while Susan stood glaring at the rainbow lory. “What is it with this bird?” Susan said. “It’s getting so I say anything and he’s calling for the police.”

“He doesn’t think you like him.”

“Oh, now, where would he get an idea like that?” Susan glowered at the bird pacing back and forth on his perch.

“Call the cops! Murder she wrote.”

“Maybe we should put a hood on him when the telephone rings. You know, the kind they put on a falcon. That might shut him up.”

“911!”

“If you were a dog, Barnaby, I’d have you in a choke collar so fast your head would spin!”

“Polly wants a cracker!”

“Starve, you mangy buzzard!”

“She doesn’t mean it, Barnaby,” Annie crooned, coming out of the bathroom in her straight, black skirt and white blouse. She’d brushed her hair quickly and was doing a French braid. “I’ll be ready in just a minute, Suzie.” She came over and stood near the bird as she finished her hair. “You’re a pretty bird, Barnaby. A very pretty bird.”

“You might not think so after I tell you what he did today. Your mother called.”

Annie turned and looked at her. The rueful look on her friend’s face was warning enough. “What happened?” she asked as they left the apartment.

“She heard Barnaby calling for the police. So she called my mother, and my mother called me. She wanted to know if it was true I was about to be arrested.”

“Oh, Suzie.” Annie closed her eyes.

Susan laughed. “Still think Barnaby’s a pretty bird? Want to go back in and wring his neck?”

“I’m sorry.” She was always apologizing to someone about something her mother said.

“Why’re you apologizing? You’re always doing that, Annie. It’s not your fault.” She came down the stairs.

“What did you tell your mother?”

She shrugged. “I told her we were throwing beer busts and orgies and running track lighting so we can grow pot in our living room. What else?”

“You didn’t!” Annie went cold inside at the thought of what
her
mother would make of such a statement.

Susan laughed. “Of course, I did. She knows me better than that, Annie. She didn’t believe me for a second. In fact, she laughed. Especially when I told her about our bird.” Her smile turned rueful. “A pity
your
mother doesn’t know us as well.”

The mailman came shortly after Annie left. Leota opened the door and reached out, pulling the sparse bundle from the metal box mounted on her wall. She closed the door and locked it again.

Well, well. She had won one million dollars from some publishing clearinghouse, and they were sending it to her bulk mail. What did they think? She was born yesterday? She walked into the kitchen as she sifted through the rest of the mail. A mailer advertised carpet cleaning. Forty-nine dollars to shampoo the rugs in two rooms. Highway robbery. She’d rented a machine five years ago for less than ten dollars and done the whole house.

Of course, it had been days before the rugs were completely dry, and the work had almost killed her.

She looked at the gray rug. Was it five years? Maybe it was longer than that. Six? Seven? Too long.

On the other side of the advertisement for carpet cleaning was a notice about a missing girl. Stranger abduction. Missing since December 15. Not a day went by that Leota didn’t find one of these depressing notices in her mailbox. What was happening to the world that so many children were missing?

Two envelopes were from charities, undoubtedly looking for donations. One of them was from the organization that had sent Corban Solsek. She should have known she would end up on their mailing list. Maybe she’d send them a check for ten dollars, rent that rug-cleaning machine at the grocery store again, and have Corban Solsek shampoo carpets for her. Oh, wouldn’t he greet that idea with a happy smile. She
couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. She would suggest it the next time he came just to see the look on his face.

If
he came back . . .

Dumping most of the mail into the recycling bin, she tore open her bank statement and sat down at the kitchen table to study it. Everything looked in order. Social Security had deposited her monthly check. A dividend had been added. Twice a year, enough to pay taxes, plus some. She was saving in case the house needed repairs. But not this year. She wrote so few checks, balancing the statement was always easy. She was even making interest, enough to buy stamps to send in the few bills she had. Utilities. Water. Telephone. Fire and theft insurance.

Pushing the statement aside, she gazed out at the garden again. Time would tell if Annie had been serious about bringing the garden back to the way it was. Whatever happened, it had been a sweet thought, sweet enough to spark something inside Leota for the first time in a long time. Her mouth curved.

“And there isn’t much spark left in this old gal, Lord.” But what a day. Perfect, in fact.
Annie’s wonderful, isn’t she, Lord? It makes me feel good knowing a little of my blood runs in her veins.

The telephone rang. Who would be calling her this time of day? Annie, perhaps, just to let her know she had arrived home safely. Leota made it to the telephone by the seventh ring.

“Mother, is Anne-Lynn with you?”

Leota blinked. “Eleanor?” When was the last time she had called?

“Nora, Mother. Remember?
Nora.
I
hate
the name Eleanor. That’s why I never use it.” She huffed as though striving for calm. “I’m calling for Anne-Lynn. Is she there?”

“No. She isn’t here.” Leota tried to push down the hurt feelings that rose again. Her daughter had never understood, never even tried . . .

“
Was
she there this afternoon?” Eleanor spoke as though talking to a small child.

“Yes. She left over an hour ago. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t take care of.”

“How have you been, dear? It’s been a long time since—”

“Just hunky-dory.” Eleanor’s tone was filled with mockery. Her anger radiated through the telephone lines. “I’ve been busy, very busy.”

“You’ve raised a wonderful daughter. You should be—”

“I can imagine what you two talked about today.”

Anger rose through the pain. “No, I don’t think you can.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Mother, but I don’t have time to talk with you right now. I need to talk with my daughter.”

Leota had no doubt in her mind what that meant. “Try not to say anything you’ll regret, Eleanor.”

Her daughter hung up.

Leota put the receiver back slowly and sat down in her recliner. She should have held her tongue. Eleanor never would listen to anything she had to say. Why had she even made the attempt? She put her head back and closed her eyes, all the joy from the day with Annie dissipating.

I didn’t need that, Lord. I didn’t need that one bit.

Corban thought about Leota Reinhardt’s question for several days. In fact, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Why did he want the elderly singled out and settled in one area? He thought of all kinds of practical reasons. Medical care would be more readily available. More services at lower costs could be provided. He couldn’t think of one negative about his idea for facilities financed by private money and assisted by government funding. What had she seen in it that he was missing? Why had she made that crack about Professor Webster? Why should anyone be horrified by his ideas? They were sound. They were compassionate.

She abhorred the ideas he had presented. Why?

He obsessed about it so much, he finally called Leota Reinhardt and told her yes, he’d like to come by on Wednesday to talk with her again. She sounded surprised to hear from him and said he could come as long as he would walk with her to the bank. “They open at nine. Come early.”

“All right.” He was unable to keep the annoyance from his tone. He’d been hoping to sit down, talk for an hour or so, and leave. Now, it seemed he would be making another trek to Dimond.

“I think we can walk and talk at the same time, Mr. Solsek. Be here at ten. Anytime after that and I’ll already be on my way.”

The next morning, he rang her doorbell at nine thirty sharp, sure that if he got there any later, she’d have left just to irritate him.

“Good morning,” she said, letting him in. “You look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

He knew how he looked. He had been so bleary-eyed this morning, he’d nicked himself while shaving. “I was up late working.”