Rose Hill (31 page)

Maggie knew Hannah
wanted everyone she knew to be paired up and making babies. She would not, could not understand why Maggie didn’t want that, too. Nevertheless, she was Maggie's best friend in the world, and knew her better than anyone. She might not understand, but she loved Maggie, despite her pricklish nature, and would accept whatever Maggie decided to do, regardless of whether she approved or not. She owed Hannah the truth.

“He was waiting for me when I got back last night,” Maggie began, and then told Hannah all of it.

Hannah said, “Mm hmm,” in all the proper places, and didn't interrupt, keeping her eyes on the road.

When Maggie finished recounting the events of the evening, ending with Skip's timely interruption, she concluded by saying, “And that's what he wants to talk about when I get back.”

“I don't think it's talking he wants to do, little missy, and neither do you,” Hannah cackled.

“I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“You want him,” Hannah said, “but you don't want to marry him.”

“No, I d
on’t,” Maggie said. “And there’s no half way with that man. If I sleep with him he'll have Father Stephen over to breakfast the next morning, giving us premarital counseling over coffee and doughnuts.”

“I know this seems simple, and you've probably thought of it already,” H
annah said slowly, as if she were talking to a child, “but do you think maybe you could just tell him all this? And talk about it? You know, like adult people?”

Maggie shook her head.

“I will, but he won't listen. He still thinks being in love solves everything.”

“He should know better from marrying Sharon.”

“He’ll say that wasn't meant to be and this is.”

“Well, you can't lead him on,” Hannah said.

“I won't lead him on,” Maggie protested. “You know I'm not like that.”

Hannah shook her head, saying, “What a mess.”

Maggie nodded in agreement.

“Poor Drew, too,” Hannah said.

Maggie, who hadn't thought it possible, felt even worse.

Several minutes later Hannah, who was singing “Brown Eyed Girl” (loudly and off key
), along with Van Morrison on oldies radio, suddenly stopped and interrupted Maggie’s reverie.

“Hey, why are we going to talk to Ruthie about Enid and Margie?”

Maggie told Hannah what Scott suspected about Margie.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Hannah yelled. “Our little town is a haven for blackmailers, murderers, and mail-tamperers! This is a job for Tiny Trollop, the crime-fighting kitten! Turn on the slut signal, Mary Margaret!”

Pendleton was about twelve miles west of Rose Hill and Hannah took the scenic route to get there rather than the faster highway. The curvy, two-lane black top wound through a narrow gap between the hills, covered with hardwoods and evergreens, all frosted with snow. She waved at almost every vehicle they passed, and Maggie kidded her about it.

“These are my constituents,” Hannah said. “My job is a politically appointed position, you know.”

Maggie didn't remind Hannah she was continually re-appointed because no one else wanted the low-paying, thankless, nigh impossible job.

Pendleton was much bigger than Rose Hill was, with a Mega Mart and sev
eral fast food restaurants right outside the city limits. The Mountain View Retirement Home was on Main Street, situated between a medical office building and a funeral home.

Hannah pointed to the businesses on either side
of the retirement home and said, “It’s like an assembly line.”

Hannah pulled the truck into the semi-circular drive as if to drop Maggie off, and Maggie said, “Aren't you coming with me?”

“No thanks,” Hannah said. “These places are like no-kill shelters for old people. I like to see my grannies in their natural habitats.”

“Wait ‘til your old man dies and Alice can't remember how to pull up her own panties; you might feel differently.”

“Thanks so much for the visual. Now get out!”

Maggie entered the lobby through two sets of automatic doors which formed a windbreak. Just inside was a large, airy room with a semi-circular reception desk, decorated much like a hotel lobby, and a large sitting room area just beyond. There were several people seated in soft chairs and wheelchairs in the sitting room, watching a morning talk show on a big screen television. A cheerful woman dressed like a hotel reservationist asked Maggie if she could help her. Within minutes of her request Maggie's old friend Ruthie was hugging her and offering to show her around.

“Scott called me,” Ruthie said. “He said you were coming by to talk about Enid.”

Ruthie took her down to the end of a long hallway that led through the “north wing,” where there was a physical therapy room, a craft project room, a full service hair and nail salon, and a gift shop. The “south wing” held a huge dining room, a meeting room, and a snack bar with game room. Both wings enclosed an atrium garden area with benches and tables. Beyond the atrium, Ruthie told her, in the west wing, was the more hospital-like extended care facility.

Maggie’s first impression was it looked like a luxury hotel for people in wheelchairs. She had secretly been anticipating abandoned-looking old people drooling and yelling in the hallways, and was ashamed of herself now she saw how nice it was, and how friendly everyone seemed.

Ruthie bought her a soda in the snack bar and took her back to the office, which she shared with several other people. Nurses were dressed in colorfully printed scrubs and office workers wore identical khaki's, white shirts, and navy blue blazers. Ruthie had on the office worker uniform and her badge said, “Intake Registrar” below her name.

“I'd like to move in as soon as possible,” Maggie said, as she sat down across from her old friend at her desk.

Ruthie laughed.

“We're lucky,” she said. “Our owners are really dedicated to good care. Our ratio of caregivers to residents is one of the highest in the industry. We hope they never sell us.”

“It must cost a fortune,” Maggie said.

“It is expensive,” Ruthie admitted, “but we have a waiting list of people wanting to get in.”

“How could someone like Enid Estep ever afford it?” Maggie asked.

“Some people deed their homes over to the company to pay for it,” Ruthie said. “If Enid owns the house she and Margie are living in, that's definitely a possibility. Otherwise, we have a program funded by grants and bequests for people who have limited means, and she would probably qualify for that.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” Maggie asked.

Ruthie frowned and leaned forward, saying in a quieter voice, “Many times. I work part-time here as an intake nurse and part-time as a home health nurse, and I see Enid at least twice a week, depending on our rotation schedule. I don't want to imply she is in any way neglected…”

Ruthie paused here and Maggie filled in, “But?”

“I don't know exactly what Enid's late husband's pension payments are, or what his social security benefit is, but my mother has the same pension plan from my dad having been a fireman in Rose Hill, plus his social security, and she lives a whole lot better than Enid.”

“So what do you think is going on?”

“Her daughter has drummed it into her head that they’re poor and can't afford anything, but I think Margie must be squirreling away money, or spending it somehow. I told Margie about a new drug treatment program that may help her mother's arthritis, but she shut me down, saying it was just another way for the drug companies and doctors to get rich, and they couldn't afford it.”

“Won't her insurance pay for it?” Maggie asked.

“They will pay the larger part,” said Ruthie. ”Enid would have to pay the rest, but if it would improve her quality of life? I can only tell you if it were my mom I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I haven't been in their house,” Maggie said. “What's it like?”

Ruthie looked around to see who was nearby before speaking in even more hushed tones.

“It's not exactly squalor;
not bad enough to say she's being abused,” she said. “But it's depressing as hell, and she's so isolated.”

“Would she leave it, though?”

“When I told her about this place she said it sounded wonderful, and she wished she could afford it. She didn't say, 'oh I could never leave Margie,' or 'I could never leave my home.' She said she would love to come but can't afford it. She also said she wished Margie wasn’t stuck there at home with her.”

Maggie and Ruthie stared at each other thoughtfully for a moment, and then Maggie said quietly, “Scott is investigating Margie for something bad she may be doing, and it could be Enid will need somewhere to live as a result.”

Ruthie’s eyebrows popped up.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I'll let you know,” Maggie responded, and then made the lock motion with her fingers in front of her lips, the same way they had as children, when promising to keep a secret.

“Don't worry,” Ruthie said. “I won't tell a soul.”

As she walked Maggie back out to the lobby Ruthie asked, “Who do you think killed Theo Eldridge?”

“Hard to tell,” Maggie said. “Lots of people hated the guy.”

“I had the biggest crush on his brother Brad,” Ruthie said. “Gorgeous George, we used to call him, do you remember? He hated that.”

“I had forgotten that,” Maggie said. “George Bradley Eldridge.”

After Ruthie hugged her and walked away the full import of her offhand comment sank in for Maggie. It was then she realized Gwyneth was not the only “G” Eldridge her brother Sean could have been writing to.

When Maggie got back to the lobby, she could hear Hannah's voice. She followed the sound to find her friend, who was in the sitting room handing out small kittens to anyone willing to hold one. The delighted looks on the faces of the residents as they held and stroked the little gray-and-black-striped balls of fur were touching to see. The kittens mewed, purred, and rubbed their little faces on the hands and arms of those who held them.

Maggie bumped her friend with her hip and Hannah said, “What?”

One of the caregivers asked Hannah if she would come back sometime and Hannah said, “Sure, I'm through here all the time, and there's no shortage of kittens in Rose Hill.”

Maggie was visibly aghast at this response and bumped her again, but Hannah just looked at her and repeated, “What?”

Eventually Hannah gathered up the kittens and put them all in a vented carrier lined with shredded newspaper. Everyone thanked her repeatedly, and made her promise to come back soon. Before they left Hannah suggested in a low voice to the caregiver that everyone should maybe wash their hands pretty soon, and the caregiver showed her the bottle of hand sanitizer s
he was carrying in her pocket. As they left she was squirting a dollop of it in everyone's hands, one by one.

Maggie held her tongue until they were in the cab of the truck, with the crate of mewling kittens seat-belted between them.

“What changed your mind?” Maggie asked.

“The visual of my mother you gave me, thank you very much,” Hannah said disgustedly. “Cause
you know none of my lazy, good-for-nothing sisters-in-law are gonna take that crazy woman in. I thought I better check out my options.”

“What did you think?”

“I think it's the nicest raisin ranch I've ever seen,” Hannah said. “I put down a deposit on a cheap room for Alice.”

“You did not.”

“No, I didn't, but mark my words, the first time she can't remember my name I'm packing her bags and leaving her on their doorstep with a check pinned to her sweater.”

“What's the story on the kittens?” Maggie asked.

“Mama got hit by a car, so they need to be hand fed for a few more weeks, and then I'll try to find homes for them.”

“Good luck with that, right?”

“I thought I heard you say you'd take two.”

“No way,” Maggie said. “My eyes are itching just being this close to them.”

“You let Duke sleep in your kitchen all the time.”

“Duke only crashes at my place occasionally. We’re just friends; it’s not a serious commitment.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and said, “Heaven forbid.”

Maggie ignored the dig.

When they stopped at the grocery store, Hannah left the truck running to keep the kittens warm and hurried into the IGA to get Maggie's pepperoni rolls. Maggie used a nearby pay phone to call Scott and tell him what Ruthie said.

“Thanks,” he said after she was through. “I'll go to the bank now and get somebody to show me Margie's account, try to see where Enid's money is going.”

“Don't you need a warrant?” Maggie asked.

“I’ll just mention to Knox that I know what Theo had on him,” Scott said.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Maggie asked. “I’m just thinking of what happened to Anne Marie.”

“I’m not afraid of Knox.”

“Just don’t drink anything he offers you.”