Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10

by M. L. Gardner

  “What are you doing here?” Arianna asked. She smiled at Jac, who shrank back and melted into his mother’s shoulder.

  Claire sat down and though he fought it, managed to turn Jac around on her lap, giving him a spoon to play with.

  “Helping Muzzy. What are you two doing here?” She took a closer look at Arianna. “And why on earth do you have all that makeup on? You look downright terrifying.”

  Arianna smiled and put a hand to her neck. “Just like the old days,” she said in a whisper. “I was headed to the school to scare the wits out of those women who were gossiping about Jean, but Maura here beat me to it.” Her hand fell to the table with a thud.

  “Hmm,” Claire said, her eyes twitching between each of them. “I’m not sure which one would have been worse. The Irish terror or the possessed housewife.”

  “What’s wrong with Muzzy?” Maura asked, watching her across the diner. She appeared to be in deep negotiation with the owner.

  “Her paper is on thin ice. She’s trying to scrounge up ideas and a part time job in order to keep things together.”

  “Is it as bad as all that?” Arianna asked.

  “Apparently. I wish I had an idea of how to help her.”

  “Well,” Arianna said, turning and joining Maura, all three now staring in Muzzy’s direction. “I could help her with her hair. Poor thing, it’s just…everywhere.”

  Claire stifled a laugh and then dropped into seriousness. “Don’t you start with that. Muzzy has a million other things to think of besides her hair. And in any case, it fits her personality.”

  “Her personality is thick, curly and explosive?” Arianna asked.

  “Well, definitely unruly,” Claire said.

  “Unruly for certain,” Maura chimed in. “What other woman do ye know that wears motorbike goggles and slacks every day of the week?”

  “Maura’s right,” Claire said. “Muzzy has an unconventional style. She wouldn’t look good with a prim cut, Arianna.”

  Arianna faced forward and folded her hands. “Unconventional or not, I could still help,” she mumbled.

  “Here she comes, shh!” Claire said.

  Muzzy flopped down in the chair.

  “I take it it didn’t go well?” Claire asked.

  As she shook her head, Arianna watched a strand of jutting hair bounce wildly. “He isn’t busy enough to warrant two waitresses. I did work out a deal to run an ad in the paper every Tuesday for him.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Maura said.

  “Not really. It’s an experiment. He’s trying out a new Wednesday menu with extremely cheap yet filling meals at a deep discount. He thinks it will drum up business. It’s not a paid ad. I get to eat here on Wednesdays in exchange.”

  “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, right?” Arianna asked, willing her eyes off Muzzy’s wayward bangs. They would only retreat momentarily before they were pulled back like magnets.

  “I haggled hard and got us some free coffee out of the deal. The waitress will bring it over when it’s done brewing,” Muzzy said as she slumped down in her chair.

  “Thank you, Muzzy,” Maura said. “The only thing that tastes better than coffee on a cold day is free coffee on a cold day.”

  “It really hasn’t been that cold,” Claire said. “Surprisingly mild, actually.”

  “Oh, it’s coming,” Maura said. “I can feel it. It won’t be long before our teeth are chattering so hard we won’t be able to talk.”

  “Talk…” Arianna said softly, distractedly. “That’s it. You need people talking, Muzzy!” She turned to her and this time, focused on her eyes.

  “Actually, what I need is people reading,” Muzzy said, trying not to sound condescending.

  “You need both. What you should start is a gossip column,” Arianna said, her eyes twinkling. “Every housewife in the county would clamor to get their hands on your paper.”

  Maura swatted her on the arm. “After all that happened wi’ Jean due to loose lipped gossip! Were ye not there with me at the school while I lectured them on such things? And don’t forget the business with Mr. Aryl and Mr. Caleb.” Maura clamped her lips against a smile.

  “I’m not saying it’s the most ethical thing in the world. I’m saying it would sell. Which is what Muzzy needs right now. She could leave names out or—”

  Muzzy held her hand up. “No, no gossip column. I am going to keep this paper respectable. If I resort to trash, that’s all my paper will be.” She sat back with a firm shake of her head. The waitress arrived and without so much as a hello or a welcome, set mugs all around and poured coffee. She moved sluggishly and when she was done, simply walked away.

  “I can’t imagine why business is suffering,” Arianna said, watching her go.

  “What about this,” Maura said, stirring sugar into her coffee. “What if ye had an advice column. People could write in their problems or questions and ye could provide answers.”

  “Oh, oh, oh, it could be almost as good as a gossip column,” Arianna said, her attention yanked from the waitress back into conversation. “People love to nose into the lives of others. I can just hear the talk around the dinner table—did you read that letter in the paper about the woman who thinks her man is having an affair?— Oh, and if it’s a taboo enough topic, you might get other people writing in helpful responses. AND—” She slapped her hand on the table. “Every now and then you could openly ask for advice and run a variety of responses in the next issue. If there’s one thing people love more than talking about their problems, it’s telling others how to fix them.” She stopped, took a breath and turned to Maura. “That’s a million dollar idea, right there.”

  Muzzy was thinking, grinning and nodding. “I could keep the paper clean while providing a bit of help and entertainment…the only problem is time. On top of everything I have to do, I don’t think I can help people figure out their problems as well.”

  “I’ll do it,” Maura offered. “After all, it was my idea,” she said, shooting a harsh look at Arianna. “For the last few years I’ve been running around, putting out fires and soothing frayed nerves. I’ve begun to feel useless lately.”

  “I couldn’t pay you,” Muzzy said with a grimace. “At least not right away. Possibly after the paper grew.”

  “My dear, have I ever charged anythin’ fer shovin’ my opinion in someone’s face?” she asked. “I’d be happy to do it.”

  Muzzy jumped up and paced the small width of the table, unable to control her excitement. “Alright, so to start off with, maybe you could write up a few problems and responses to run in next week’s issue just to get us going.” She glanced at a couple sitting at a nearby table and lowered her voice. “At the bottom we’ll put out an open call, inviting everyone to write in.” She threw her hands up. “I could even put a drop box outside the office so people don’t have to worry about postage.” She whirled around, took two steps and turned again. “If we have a Wednesday deadline and I got all the letters to you then, could you choose three problems and have the responses back to me by Friday?”

  “I could,” Maura said.

  Arianna leaned over. “Can I help you read them?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Then,” Muzzy continued, “I can run it on a Saturday, which is my worst selling day. Claire. Can you design a small single framed comic…like a logo…perhaps a group of women huddled around one who looks…in despair? It needs to give the impression that there are all these women out there, ready to help.”

  “That would be easy. I’d love to.”

  Arianna reached out and touched Claire’s arm. “Can I be in it?” she asked quietly.

  “We could run that picture at the top of the column, so it’s easily spotted.” She trailed off into her own thoughts, mumbling as she chewed on her thumb, pacing two steps in each direction.

  “I will leave all the details to you, dear,” Maura said, reaching for her coffee. “I have only one question about this advice column
. Do ye have a name in mind?”

  ***

  Ethel shuffled in with her robe pulled tight. Her shock of short white hair was sticking in every direction and her mouth set in an exaggerated frown. Arianna’s cheerful greeting was met with a growl.

  Arianna glanced over her shoulder. “Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning.”

  Ethel grunted with annoyance and again with old bones settling in a chair.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, but I best not eat,” she said, turning her nose up and looking away.

  “Why not?” Arianna asked.

  “So the little ones aren’t left wanting,” Ethel said with hopelessness.

  Arianna whispered a curse under her breath.

  “Just what is that supposed to mean?” She had to remind herself it was far too early in the day to be this low on patience. As she set two loaves of risen dough in the oven she had to force herself to be careful or they’d collapse.

  “The little ones aren’t going to want for anything. But if you don’t quiet down, they’ll wake up early and I’ve still got things to do.”

  “Aren’t you lucky.”

  “Pardon?” Arianna asked.

  “I expect I shall be turned out into the cold to fend for myself any day now. There’ll be no room at the inn for a useless old lady like me,” she said with a sigh.

  Arianna turned, pointed. “I’m not even religious and I can tell you that’s wrong to say. Especially right before Christmas. What are you talking about, useless?”

  Ethel slumped and tossed her head to the side with a theatrical flair.

  “If you’re going to insist on melodrama, at least let me give you a few pointers. As it is, you look ridiculous.”

  “Oh, and then there’s you. One minute you’re kind and sweet, Mother Ethel this, Mother Ethel that. Now, you’re calling me names.”

  “I…am…not…calling you names. I’m calling it how I see it. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. You aren’t useless. But if you feel like you are, then find something to do!”

  “I used to watch the babies. But I can’t be trusted now,” she said. Her eyes and shoulders dropped and Arianna felt a twinge of pity for her.

  “There are other things you can do, Mother Ethel.”

  “Oh. You’re being nice again,” she whispered.

  Arianna pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “The pantry isn’t so bare that you shouldn’t eat. Please don’t be a martyr. I can’t deal with that this early in the morning.”

  “It’s not just that. We’re feeding and housing Emily and her son. Shannon just brought her here and left her for us to care for.”

  “Shh!” Arianna hissed, glancing at the stairs. “She might be awake. How could you be so uncharitable, Ethel? She has nowhere else to go!”

  “I’m not being uncharitable, I’m being realistic. She is not our responsibility, yet she and her son are using our resources.”

  “She has become our friend and does a lot of valuable work around here. And she’s agreed to take over watching the babies when I need her to. She hardly makes a noise and is never in the way. We have enough room at the table for you, her and her son. You act as if we’re all on the verge of starving to death. And Arthur is going to take them back to Cleveland any day.”

  “Not so,” Ethel said, pursing her lips and glancing away.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I overheard her last night crying in her room. Her baby woke up and I heard her tell him that his daddy couldn’t be with them for Christmas after all.”

  Arianna leaned back against the counter with a thud. “Oh, poor thing. He must have told her in that letter that came. She must be so devastated.”

  “What she is,” Ethel said, leaning in, “Is being swoozled.”

  Arianna blinked. “Being what?”

  “Lied to. He’s stringing her along. The boy is married.”

  “Only legally.”

  “Only?” Ethel said, amused. “I forgot for a moment who I’m talking to. Such things as legalities never mattered much to you.”

  Arianna leveled her head. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never known you to be so nasty. Are you not feeling well?” She moved around the table and tried to put a hand to Ethel’s head. She swatted Arianna away with a growl.

  “He loves her, Ethel. I saw them together. I can tell. Arthur isn’t lying to her and don’t you go putting that idea into her head. The poor girl’s been through enough already.”

  Ethel folded her arms with a “Humph.”

  David had mentioned to watch for crankiness, change in personality and mood swings. Never did Arianna guess that these symptoms would start so suddenly or dramatically. And, in her single focused concern, never noticed Emily standing part way down the stairwell, listening.

  ***

  It was a cold Friday afternoon as Aryl stood with his hand on Claire’s back as the boarding call was made.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  “We’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when we’ll be home. I don’t expect it to be more than a week.”

  “It’s going to be one long lonely week,” he said with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

  “You know you’ll enjoy the peace and quiet,” she said, trying to raise his spirits. “You can listen to the radio and take a nap uninterrupted. And Maura’s agreed to come by and bring you something to eat a few times while I’m gone. I know how you hate to cook.”

  “What I hate more than cooking, is your being gone,” he said, pulling her close. “Hurry home.”

  “I will. The time will go so fast, you’ll see,” she said. He kissed her, prolonging it as long as possible, even as Jac thumped his fist on the side of Aryl’s head. The train whistle blew and he stepped back, touching Jac’s cheek as he did. If he didn’t let them go now, he might not let them go at all.

  He watched as she boarded the train and then handed her her bag. He followed her, watching through the glass until she found a seat. She held Jac up to the window and moved his chubby fist in a wave before blowing Aryl a kiss. He held his hand up and tried to smile as the train lurched forward. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watched until it was out of sight and then made his way home.

  He stood on the walk in front of their small rented house, staring. Maybe he should have gone to the diner to eat before coming home. He shouldn’t spend the money, of course, but after the record catches with David’s help this week and the fact that Claire would be earning money next week, he could have justified it. Ultimately, he decided against it and went inside.

  The house seemed to echo with emptiness. The sound of his shoes scraping on the floor sounded louder than it should. He turned on the lamp next to the sofa.

  It felt colder, even though he knew it wasn’t. It felt larger, too. He walked from one room to the next, turning on lights, chastising himself for being so ridiculous. Most men would welcome a week of quiet solitude with no young son waking him in the night, no wife with an endless list of things he needed to see to. How often had he grumbled to himself after a long day in the freezing sleet to have Claire ask him to stop a leak in the bathroom faucet, unclog a pipe or adjust the burner on the oil heater. While he had complained, albeit silently, it was those things that he knew deep down kept him sane.

  By living in a constant routine, staying busy and forward focused, he rarely thought about the past. The cravings of his old addiction reared up from time to time, but busy hands, Claire’s face and the sheer task of keeping after Jac put them down quick enough. And now, with the house empty and hollow, there was every opportunity to remember and to crave. This was what bothered him about things changing…about being alone. He found comfort in routine and strength in his family’s presence. Without those things, he felt himself begin to wobble.

  To everyone around him, even his closest friends, it seemed that after those terrible weeks in the woods, that he’d beaten his addiction. That it was no longer
something that woke him up in the night with everything from distorted dreams to nightmares, body aches to the voice that whispered seductively, ‘Just one sip’.

  They naively believed it no longer bothered him.

  Sometimes he wished Jonathan would come right out and ask. ‘Hey, Aryl. Been tempted to find some opiates lately?’ so he could tell him that it still haunted him on occasion and worried that it always would. He’d tell him that some days all he could do was cling to work and Claire and hold on for dear life until it passed.

  ***

  Ruth’s driver brought her bag to the door and the butler, Grayson, took over from there. He welcomed her in and offered to take her coat. She struggled to remove it, between her bag and Jac, and with an exasperated huff, thrust Jac into Grayson’s hands. With wide eyes he held the squirming boy at arm’s length while Claire wriggled out of her coat. She adjusted her purse and hat, then she held out her coat in an offer to trade it for her child. He gratefully took it, disappeared and Claire stole a moment to look around. From the foyer she could see into the parlor. This seemed almost foreign to her now. The posh surroundings, everything from the imported rugs, crystal vases to rare works of art were well placed and every surface was spotless.

  There was the faint aroma of lilacs, though she could see no flowers. She liked Ruth’s sense of style and choice of colors and for a moment was envious that she wasn’t as free to create such an atmosphere for her home. What parts of her life the great crash hadn’t affected, Jac certainly had. Even something as simple as a clean floral scent seemed impossible to achieve.

  Grayson returned, walking quietly behind her and startled her when he spoke.

  “Mrs. Drayton will meet you in the parlor, ma’am,” he said in the usual formal tone.

  She hoisted Jac, who was also taking in the elegance, and followed him in. She thought to sit, but knew Jac would be clawing to get out of her arms. She kept him on her hip and paced instead. A few moments later, Ruth stepped in and one of her hips had a wide eyed, shy looking child occupying it.