“I’m glad to be here, Aunt Grace,” Evvie said.
“Don’t start this visit off with a lie, child,” Grace said. “You’re willing to be here, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Don’t be hard on the girl,” Clark said. “She’s tired and hungry.”
“And I’m lonely and bored,” Grace said. “We’ll get along famously.”
“I hope so,” Evvie said. “I’ll certainly try my best.”
“Good.” Grace gave Evvie’s hand a squeeze. “Now that I’ve seen you’re actually here, you can go. Sleep well, child. It’s your mother’s old room, but we’ve changed the sheets once or twice since she left.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Evvie said. “Good night, Aunt Grace.”
“Good night,” Grace replied.
Evvie slipped out of the room. She stood in the hallway shaking, not knowing whether she should laugh or cry. Instead of doing either, she decided she would eat a sandwich, and go to bed with the sound of the ocean lulling her to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Evvie left her room the next day, she met Mrs. Baker in the hall, carrying a tray. “Good morning, Mrs. Baker,” she said, smiling. “Were you planning to give me breakfast in bed?”
“It’s Miss Winslow’s breakfast,” Mrs. Baker replied.
“I’ll bring it in to her,” Evvie said, and took the tray.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Baker said. “What would you care to have for breakfast?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Evvie said. “Juice, I guess. After I take this in to my aunt, I’ll go downstairs and see what I can find.”
“I’d be happy to make you your breakfast, miss,” Mrs. Baker said.
“Tell you what,” Evvie said. “We’ll negotiate breakfast when I get down there. And in the meantime, could you start calling me Evvie? This miss business makes me nervous.”
“Certainly, Evvie,” Mrs. Baker said, and smiled. Evvie smiled back. Mrs. Baker, at least, seemed nice enough. And she didn’t seem to loathe Aunt Grace. Maybe the summer held some possibilities after all.
Evvie gave knocking on the door her best shot, and then maneuvered it open with her elbow. She’d ask Mrs. Baker for some tips on tray carrying, she decided, if she were going to do it for the rest of her visit.
“Good morning, Aunt Grace,” Evvie said, and carried the tray over to her aunt’s bed. “I hope you don’t mind my bringing your tray in to you.”
“Just as long as you didn’t make my breakfast,” Aunt Grace said, struggling to prop herself up. Evvie put the tray down on a night table, and helped her aunt. She even fluffed a pillow or two. When Grace got into the right position, Evvie lifted the tray and put it on her aunt’s lap. Grace took a sip of coffee. “Good,” she said. “This is definitely Mrs. Baker’s coffee. It took me five years to train her to make my coffee just the way I like it. I’d hate to think you stayed here for just one night and ruined all that good work.”
“I’m terrible in the kitchen,” Evvie admitted. “I have no domestic skills.”
“Hire servants, then,” Grace said. “That’s always been my solution.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Evvie said.
Grace took a bite of her toast. “Did you sleep well last night?” she asked. “I hope the room was satisfactory.”
“The room is wonderful,” Evvie replied. “And I slept very well, thank you.”
“Good,” Grace said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any sort of houseguest, let alone a teenager. I’m sure there must be things you’ll want, rock-and-roll records perhaps, but I didn’t have much advance notice you were coming, so I couldn’t send Mrs. Baker out to shop for you.”
“I’m fine,” Evvie replied. “There’s a radio in my room. And I brought along a couple of books to read. I thought I might ask if I could take books out on your library card.”
“So you read, do you,” Grace said. “I didn’t think people your age knew how. I thought you watched television and listened to rock-and-roll records instead.”
“Some of us know how to read as well,” Evvie said. “I can read out loud to you if you’d like.”
“Why should I like?” Grace asked, and began eating her eggs.
“I don’t know,” Evvie said. “Isn’t that something invalids enjoy? Being read out loud to?” She was sure she’d seen that in a movie once, along with pillow fluffing.
“So I’m an invalid, am I,” Grace said. “Well, I suppose I am. Stuck in this bed. The Bradford boy’s been my only visitor.”
It took Evvie a moment to realize that “the Bradford boy” was Clark. “That’s why I came,” she said. “So you wouldn’t get lonely.”
“And you propose to entertain me by reading out loud,” Aunt Grace said.
“That’s what Megs used to do when one of us was sick,” Evvie replied. “She still does, to Sybil and Claire.”
Aunt Grace humphed. “Megs,” she said. “I assume you’re referring to my niece, Margaret.”
“She’s my mother, Megs, as well,” Evvie said.
“And that father of yours, you call him something ridiculous as well?” Grace said.
“Nicky,” Evvie said.
“Normal children call their parents Mother and Father,” Grace declared. “I called my parents Mother and Father and we never had a moment’s difficulty.”
Evvie smiled and resisted the temptation to dump Aunt Grace’s eggs over her head.
Grace sat still for a moment and looked out her window to the ocean. “Well, perhaps a moment or two of difficulty,” she admitted. “But never over what to call them.”
Evvie laughed. “May I sit down?” she asked. “I feel uncomfortable hovering like this.”
“Certainly,” Grace said, and gestured to a chair. “Have you had your breakfast yet?”
“Not yet,” Evvie said. “I figured I’d visit with you first.”
“And get your obligation over with for the day,” Aunt Grace said. “It is a lovely day for the beach. Did you bring a bathing suit?”
“I did,” Evvie said. “But I don’t plan to run out of here the minute I’ve finished my breakfast, and then show up for dinner. I’m here to help out, to keep you company. The beach is secondary.”
“Very well,” Grace said. “So how is Margaret? I spoke to her on the phone yesterday, but we mostly talked about me and my condition.”
“She’s fine,” Evvie said. “We just moved into a new house, you know, so she’s been busy decorating it.”
“Is it a nice house?” Aunt Grace asked.
“Nice enough,” Evvie said. “Once Megs is through with it, it’ll be beautiful. The kitchen has a lot of potential.”
“What difference does that make?” Grace asked. “What do people do in kitchens besides prepare meals?”
“You can entertain in them,” Evvie replied.
“No one entertains in a kitchen,” Aunt Grace declared. “Do you have your own bedroom?”
“I’m sharing this time,” Evvie said. “There’s one small room—Claire has it at least for the summer—and I’m sharing the large room with Thea and Sybil.”
“And how are the girls?” Aunt Grace asked. “It’s been a long while since I’ve seen them.”
“They’re fine,” Evvie said. “I have a picture of them in my room if you’d like to see it.”
“Certainly,” Aunt Grace said.
Evvie got up and went to her bedroom. She hadn’t unpacked the night before, and it took some digging before she could locate the picture. She enjoyed the break from her aunt, and wondered how many more of them she’d be able to manage a day.
“Here we all are,” she said, returning to Aunt Grace’s bedside. “It’s just a snapshot, but we don’t have many of all six of us.”
Aunt Grace took the photograph and examined it carefully. “Margaret looks older,” she said. “Is she developing cataracts?”
“The sun was in her eyes,” Evvie said. “She was squinting. Her eyes are very light se
nsitive, but Nicky didn’t want her wearing her sunglasses for the picture, so she ended up squinting. Thea’s eyes are the same way, but she wasn’t staring straight into the sun, so she isn’t squinting as much.”
“Claire looks like her father,” Aunt Grace said. “And is that Sybil over there? The one who looks like a potato?”
“Sybil doesn’t look anything like a potato,” Evvie said. “It isn’t a very good picture.”
“Nonsense,” Grace said. “You look exactly like yourself. Nick seems to be in fine fettle. When your mother sends photographs, she never includes one of him. There’s no gray in his hair. I assume he touches it up.”
“Not that I know of,” Evvie said, wishing she’d never subjected her picture to such scrutiny. “He isn’t that old, Aunt Grace. There’s no reason for his hair to turn white. Clark’s hair hasn’t.”
“Clark hardly has any hair,” Aunt Grace pointed out. “And the Bradford hair always stays that same shade of mousy brown no matter what their age. They’re born with it and they die with it. Terribly unattractive. I’d rather be all white, the way I am, than that dreadful boring brown.”
Evvie supposed that was the kind of thing old people worried about, what shade of gray or white their hair would turn out to be. It wasn’t a question she’d given much thought to. “Megs is still a blond,” she said. “We have her coloring, except for Claire.”
“Claire is very beautiful,” Grace said. “That was the only thing one could say about Nick, that he was an extraordinarily handsome man. His eyes actually sparkled. Do they still?”
“On occasion,” Evvie said.
Grace examined the photograph even more closely. “I have a magnifying glass in that drawer over there,” she said. “Bring it to me.”
Evvie did. Grace used it to check out the faces in the picture.
“He had a slight scar right by his ear,” Aunt Grace said. “His stepfather hit him with an iron skillet once and it left a scar. I can’t see it. Has he had surgery to remove it?”
“He still has the scar,” Evvie said. “I didn’t know that was how he’d gotten it, though.”
“You must have asked him,” Aunt Grace said. “What did he tell you?”
“That a dog bit him,” Evvie admitted. “When he was a little boy.”
“I hired detectives,” Grace said. “It was a skillet. I never told Margaret, because she wouldn’t have seen it for the vulgar thing it was. She would have felt sorry for him instead. Although he might have told her the truth himself. Nick was never adverse to using the truth when it might further his own interests.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t insult my father all the time,” Evvie said, taking the picture from Grace.
“No?” Aunt Grace said. “How about part of the time?”
“None of the time would be best,” Evvie said. “I know you don’t like him.”
“It isn’t a question of like or dislike,” Aunt Grace declared. “He entered this house as an uninvited guest, promptly stole Margaret’s heart, forced her to choose between her life with me, the life she’d been born to lead, and a life with him that has been insecure at best, near criminal at worst, and has caused her nothing but heart-break. He alienated her from me, and I know his only hope is that I’ll find it in my heart to forgive him, so that I’ll leave Margaret my estate, and he’ll be able to live off it for the rest of his life.”
Evvie sighed. Things didn’t sound so great for Nicky in the will department.
“I don’t hear you rushing to defend him,” Grace said.
Evvie shrugged. “There isn’t much point,” she said. “You look at my parents and see heartbreak. I look at them and see love. You see insecurity, I see adventure. You think she’s alienated from you, and I know how much she still loves you and worries about you. And Sybil doesn’t look anything like a potato.”
“A turnip then,” Aunt Grace said. “Tell me something, Evvie. Is the life your mother has the one you want for yourself?”
“I don’t know,” Evvie said. “I don’t know yet what I want. It’s what Thea wants, I know that.”
“What books did you bring to read this summer?” Aunt Grace asked.
“Jane Eyre,” Evvie replied. “Vanity Fair. And the complete works of Jane Austen.”
“I like murder mysteries,” Grace said. “I was hoping you’d brought some murder mysteries I hadn’t read yet.”
“Sorry,” Evvie said. “There was something nineteenth century about this trip, so I only took nineteenth century books with me.”
“I was born in the nineteenth century,” Aunt Grace declared. “I still remember New Year’s Eve, 1899. My mother let me stay up until midnight to see the new century come in. I was a very little girl, and I was so excited. I took a nap that afternoon, so I wouldn’t be sleepy, and I had supper in the nursery with my older brother Alden. Marcus, my baby brother, was still an infant. I was terrified of falling asleep. Alden told me if I wasn’t awake at midnight, I’d sleep through the entire twentieth century. Alden was a nasty boy, but there are times I wish his prophecy had been true.”
Evvie smiled. “Did you manage to stay up?” she asked.
“Of course I did,” Grace said. “My parents gave a ball … the ladies were so lovely, and the band played waltzes, and at midnight all the church bells of Boston rang. It woke Marcus up, and he started crying. Nanny was very cross. She blamed it on the Irish, those church bells waking up Marcus.”
“My grandfather wasn’t born yet,” Evvie said.
“No, he came later,” Grace replied. “After Marcus there was a little girl, Amelia, and she died when she was two. Then five years later, Reggie was born. Alden died in the First World War.”
“I remember Marcus though,” Evvie said. “From when I was little. He was a big man, and he had a wife and children and grandchildren, and they all frightened me.”
“Marcus enjoyed making noise,” Grace agreed. “He also enjoyed making shrewd investments. Thanks to him, we weathered the Depression. I suppose Margaret should have gone to live with his family when Reggie and Clarissa died, but Marcus and Anne already had six children of their own, and Margaret was such a quiet girl. So I took her in. It was my duty, and I didn’t regret it. Of course, I’d always been quite fond of Reggie. He was the baby in the family, spoiled, and charming. Is Sybil like that?”
Evvie shook her head. “Sybil’s too levelheaded,” she replied. “She isn’t the sort of person you spoil just because she’s youngest.”
“Lucky for her,” Grace said. “Very well. You’ve done your good deed for the day, listening to an old woman’s reminiscences.”
“I enjoyed it,” Evvie said. It was better than listening to Grace attacking Nicky.
“Nonetheless, you must be hungry,” Grace said. “And eager to explore your new surroundings. Bring the tray down to the kitchen, I’ve eaten all I care to, and ask Mrs. Baker to send up another cup of coffee for me. Then have your breakfast, and go into town.”
“No, I’ll stay here and keep you company a while longer,” Evvie said.
“When I want you to keep me company, I’ll tell you so,” Aunt Grace declared. “Now I want you to go to town and pick up some new mysteries for me at the bookstore. Tell them it’s for Grace Winslow. They know my taste. Then you can bring the books back, and read one of them out loud to me. We’ll try to solve the murder together. Are you good at that sort of thing?”
“Solving mysteries?” Evvie replied. “Not very.”
“Neither am I,” Grace said. “Good. That way we’ll both be surprised by the ending. Now don’t forget to tell Mrs. Baker about my coffee. She doesn’t want me to drink two cups in the morning, so I have to prompt her to give me the second one. And tell her the toast was overcooked.”
“Yes, Aunt Grace,” Evvie said. She took the tray and carried it down to the kitchen. “My aunt wants another cup of coffee,” she told Mrs. Baker. “And she prefers her toast a little less brown.”
“Thank you, Evvi
e,” Mrs. Baker said. “I poured you some fresh orange juice, but I didn’t know what else you’d care for.”
“Toast’ll do fine,” Evvie said. “I’m not big on breakfast. Aunt Grace wants me to go to the bookstore in town and get her some mysteries. How do I get there?”
“Just walk straight down the road,” Mrs. Baker replied. “It’s about a three mile walk. I can ask Alf, Mr. Baker, to drive you there if you’d prefer.”
“No, I’d like the exercise,” Evvie said. Besides, the longer the walk, the less time she’d have to spend with Grace. She drank her juice and ate her toast, thanked Mrs. Baker, and left the house. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and she could smell the ocean. No. wonder rich people summer at Eastgate, she thought.
Evvie enjoyed her walk. The cottages she passed along the way were large and carefree and charming. As she got closer to town, the houses got smaller and smaller, but even they looked well tended and picturesque. Eastgate was a picture-postcard sort of a town, and if she ever broke her hundred dollar bill, she’d have to buy some postcards to send home.
The town itself turned out to be roughly three blocks long. There were crafts shops and seafood restaurants and expensive little gourmet stores. Evvie wondered where people bought their groceries, but she supposed there must be a supermarket somewhere hidden away from view. After all, there had been a grocery-store bagger that summer when Megs had fallen in love with Nicky.
The bookstore was on the corner of the second block, and Evvie was pleased to see it wasn’t called Books ’n Things or anything else remotely cutesy. All its sign said was Books, and in the window that’s what was displayed.
Evvie walked in, and a little bell announced her presence. The store appeared empty, and that gave her a moment to look around.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, yes,” Evvie said, startled by the words. She looked to see who had spoken, and found a boy standing toward the back of the shop. He looked her age, maybe a little older, and had dark brown hair, even darker eyes, and a quizzical smile. “I’m here for Grace Winslow. She said you’d know her taste in books.”
Evvie at Sixteen Page 4