Miss Julia to the Rescue (4 page)

“No, you don’t want that.”

“I don’t?”

“No,” he said in a knowledgeable, almost a know-it-all, manner, “they’re hugely expensive and nobody does them anymore. What we’ll do is put in one of those ready-made fireplaces that comes in a kit, and all you’ll need is a flue that runs up to the roof. It’ll serve your purpose and save you a mint.”

So this was what Mildred was talking about. “Stick to your guns,” she’d told me, “or he’ll talk you out of getting what you want.”

“But it’s what I want,” I said.

“Believe me, you don’t,” Mr. Caldwell said with such firmness that I had to take myself in hand. “You won’t be able to tell the difference from inside. We’ll use a reeded surround and an Adam mantel on it, and you’ll be pleased with all the money you save.” He busied himself sketching an elevation of one wall with a fireplace to show what he was talking about, hardly bothering to look up to see how I was taking it.

“Mr. Caldwell,” I said, and waited until he’d put down his pen and looked up. “Let’s work it this way: you do what you do best, which is to design a plan of what I want, and I’ll do what I do best,
which is to pay for it. And what I want is a Williamsburg chimney because I care about the outside of my house as well as the inside. And because such a chimney would have a greater aesthetic impact than a metal pipe sticking up through the roof.”

He tapped his pen on the desk, staring at me the whole time. I knew what he was thinking:
here’s a live one
.

“And besides,” I went on to stop that kind of thinking, “I’ve already investigated the cost of the workmanship required to build a huge chimney, so I’m quite prepared to have what I want at a price that I’m willing to pay.”

“That being the case,” he said, suddenly deciding that a Williamsburg chimney was a grand idea, “I’ll have the preliminary plans in a couple of days. When would be convenient for me to do the measurements?”

We decided on a date and a time, and I stood to take my leave. “One more thing,” I said, “because I’ve not worked with an architect before: I will pay you for today’s consultation, but it’s my understanding that you are not fully engaged until you produce a set of plans that meet my approval. Is that correct?”

He assured me that it was, and I left feeling that not only were we now reading from the same book, but we were also on the same page. I didn’t want to have to fight him every step of the way, so it had been necessary and proper that he know with whom he was dealing.

Adam Waites came rolling in the next morning, ladders tied to the roof of the camper shell on his pickup and the inside loaded with the tools of his trade. I watched from the kitchen window as he stepped out of his truck and fastened a work belt around his hips. He was a fine-looking young man, lean but muscular, with a shy reticence about him. He wore jeans that fit—no rear bagging, I was happy to see—and a gray T-shirt with a lion and a lamb printed on it, surrounded by the words ridgetop evangelical campground. As he walked to the back of the truck, I noted his
heavy-duty high-top work boots, remarkable for the green patch on each tongue, which had the image of a yellow leaping deer. I recognized it as the logo of a plow and tractor maker. He looked capable and ready for work.

I counted myself fortunate for having reached him at just the right moment, when he was between jobs for that Whitman woman. My intention was to set him to work dismantling Hazel Marie’s room, stripping the wallpaper and replacing it with a soothing, bedroomy paint color—just as soon as I could figure out what that was.

I waited for him at the back door, but Mr. Waites was not singing as he approached. He was humming. I didn’t remark on it as Mildred had, but it was a tune I knew but couldn’t at first dredge up the name of it. Don’t you just hate that?

Finally, it came to me. I’d learned two dozen verses of “This Little Light of Mine” years before when I’d been talked into helping with Vacation Bible School, learning at the same time that I had not been given the gift of patience with thirty-some-odd boisterous five-year-olds. The only good thing that had come out of the experience was being able to say the following year, “Let somebody else have a turn. I’ve had mine.”

Up close, Mr. Waites looked younger than I’d expected—late twenties, most likely—with a clean-shaven face and an open manner. He was pleasant enough, seemingly agreeable to all I pointed out that needed to be done both in Hazel Marie’s room and in the sunroom.

“Let’s build cabinets all across this wall under the windows,” I said as we stood in the sunroom. I pointed to the hand-drawn plan that indicated the number, placement and color of the cabinets I wanted. “I want pullout shelves in some and file drawers in others. Then let’s build bookcases on this other wall all the way to the ceiling. You’ll want to match the crown molding and the baseboard. Will that be a problem?”

“No’m,” he said softly.

I then directed him to the pink room, pointing out what I
wanted done. He nodded and went right to work moving Hazel Marie’s furniture to the middle of the room and covering it with a heavy painter’s cloth.

“Don’t worry about the carpet,” I told him. “That’s coming up next. Of course, we’ll have to do something with this furniture to get it out of the way.”

Mr. Waites scratched his head. “I can bring some of my brothers and we’ll move it if you have a place for it.”

“Hm,” I said, thinking. “Maybe we can put it in the sunroom temporarily, then shift it back when you finish in here—what’s left of it anyway, because I’m giving some of it away. All that moving could be a big job. How many brothers do you have?”

“There’s five of us, all sons of The Carpenter.” He glanced sideways at me, perhaps to see if I got the allusion.

“Oh, so you learned your skills from your father?” I asked, deciding not to bite.

He smiled beatifically. “Yes, ma’am, we learned ’em from our earthly father and our heavenly father.”

“Well, how nice.” I knew, of course, that Joseph had been a carpenter and his young Son had worked alongside him. But if Mr. Waites wanted to play on words to test my scriptural knowledge, I would just let it go over my head. As long as he did good work, he could think what he wanted. I’d been around too many scripture-quoting contests to want to engage in one myself.

It was still quite early the morning I returned home from taking Sam to the Asheville airport. I was feeling a little blue from watching his plane lift off, so I was comforted to find Lillian busy in the kitchen as the coffee made its last sighing perc.

“You get ’em off?” she asked.

“Finally,” I said, pulling out a chair at the table. “I declare, it takes an act of Congress to get on an airplane these days. I’m just glad I didn’t have to go through all that rigmarole. You wouldn’t believe it, Lillian.”

“What all they do?” She set a cup and saucer before me, pushed the cream forward and sat down with her own cup.

“Well, first off, we had to take Emma Sue with us, which put a crimp in our good-byes. Pastor Ledbetter had already arranged to go with the Dillards and they didn’t have room for Emma Sue’s luggage, so she ended up riding with us. And, Lillian, that woman talked the whole way to the airport, and a mile a minute, too. She was so excited she couldn’t see straight, kept saying that she’d known the Lord would prepare a way for her if she’d just be patient. She went on and on about trusting the Lord’s timing, going so far as to tell me that I should exercise more patience about Lloyd moving in with his mother. It was all I could do to hold my tongue.” I took a sip of coffee and tried to exercise a little patience about Emma Sue. “Actually, though, I’m happy that she was excited about going and I hope she enjoys every minute. I just wish
she’d given a little credit to those who made it possible by carrying out the Lord’s will. I mean, he didn’t, himself, leave a bag of money on her doorstep. It had to come
through
somebody.”

“Yessum, an’ I ’spect I know who that somebody was.”

I smiled. “She thinks it was a group that contributed, which was the way I wanted it so she wouldn’t feel obligated or embarrassed about it. But still, she could’ve expressed some gratitude to whoever was in the group. I’ve just never been comfortable with people who think there’s a direct line between them and the Lord without any third-party help.”

“Preachers is bad about that. Everybody dig down till it hurt to raise they salary, and they act like it found money come down from heaven ’specially for them.”

“That’s the truth,” I agreed. “But, Lillian, that wasn’t the end of it. They almost didn’t let Emma Sue get on the plane. She’d packed some things she wasn’t supposed to, so they unpacked everything right out there in front of everybody, and I mean everything. She was just mortified when they pulled out some feminine hygiene products that hadn’t even been put in Ziploc bags. Which I wouldn’t have known to do, either, but somebody should’ve told her how and what to pack. I can’t imagine what’ll happen when they change planes in New York and a full-body scan has to be done. But the worst of all was the pastor, who tried to defend her while halfway acting like she wasn’t with his group. I really blame him for the whole embarrassing episode.”

“Well,” Lillian said, “I hope the pore little thing have a good time if she ever get there. And if she do get there, Mr. Sam’ll look after her.”

“I expect he’ll have to.” I sat back with a sigh at the thought of his being gone for a couple of weeks. “Why, good morning, Lloyd,” I said, as the boy pushed through the swinging door from the dining room and Lillian got up to go to the stove. “Big day today, isn’t it?”

He groaned. “Last day before exams is always a big day, but I could sure do without it. We’ll be reviewing all day and studying
all weekend—finals start on Monday. I wish it was this time next week.”

“Scrambled or fried?” Lillian asked. “I already got some of them little link sausages you like. Miss Julia, which you want?”

Lloyd and I answered at the same time. “Scrambled.”

“Mr. Sam get off okay?” Lloyd asked as he sat at the table to await breakfast. “Y’all sure did leave early.”

“Yes, and we needed every minute of it, too,” I said, able to laugh about it now as I told him about the search of Emma Sue’s luggage, leaving out, of course, any mention of specifics. “I did feel sorry for her because it was such a public search, and of course she was weeping the whole way through it.”

“I guess I would be, too,” Lloyd said, “especially if they went through my underdrawers. Kinda embarrassing. Anyway, I think I’d like to go on one of those trips overseas one of these days.”

“Why don’t you plan to go to a college where they offer a junior year abroad? I might even come to visit if you were gone that long.”

“Huh!” Lillian said, as she spooned scrambled eggs onto our plates. “I like to see you get on a airplane.”

“You just might,” I said, coming right back at her. “Because if I go, you’re going, too.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Lloyd said before she could respond. “I’m not even in high school yet, so we have a long time to figure it out. Besides, I’m going to Chapel Hill if I can get in and I don’t know if they have that junior year.”

“Chapel Hill has anything you want, and you’ll get in, don’t worry about that. You just keep up your grades the way you’ve been doing, stay with your tennis and maybe some volunteer work and they’ll take you. And, Lloyd,” I went on, “let’s put getting your Eagle Scout ranking at the top of the list. That’ll look good on an application.”

“Yessum, but I still have a few more badges to get before I can start my project. It might take another year or so.”

“That’s fine, just don’t let it slide. Starting high school next year
is just the time when a lot of boys give up Scouting. I know you’re getting tired of it, but you’re too close to let it lapse now.”

“No’m, I won’t.” He took a last bite, wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “Thanks, Lillian. I better get going or I’ll be late. Miss Julia, we might get out early today, so I’ll probably be home around two. I could start packing up some of my stuff this afternoon, ’less somebody wants to play tennis. I’ll let you know.”