It was not long after Brenda had graduated from Cornell and began working with her father that she dropped me as a friend. We’d been brought up almost like sisters, best friends who played, laughed, shared secrets, dreamed dreams and promised to be friends forever. Thursday was our movie night… we would meet in town, eat dinner and head for the latest movie.
“Meet you as usual then?” I asked as I worked the breakfast room.
“Sorry, Nora, I’ve been thinking. Now that I’m involved in Father’s firm and you are, in fact, an employee of mine, we should end our friendship. It would only lead to problems. I expect to be busier now. Could you clear these plates, please?” she concluded as she left the room, barely giving me a glance.
I felt slighted, and to say I was upset was putting it mildly. I felt like my ego had been destroyed in a second. Chores that day seemed endless. I couldn’t wait to retreat to my room and let rip my anger and sorrow. Mom heard me crying.
“Honey, what’s happened? Are you sick?”
I told her of my encounter with Brenda.
“Mom, I felt so small, like she’d slapped my face. Do our years of friendship count for nothing? She’s a bitch. She thinks of no one but herself.”
“We have to face it, we’ve been put in our places, both of us; looks like our relationship has changed now that she’s working for the firm.”
“You too, mom? Has she snubbed you?”
“Yeah, didn’t want to say anything, but I was reminded we were employees, first and foremost.”
Chapter 31
Having consoled her daughter, Molly returned to her chores and her own thoughts.
What I didn’t tell my daughter was that our accommodation would no longer be free.
“You have been cosseted enough over the years. It’s time to pull your weight around here,” said Brenda sharply.
Pull my weight! I thought. I almost exploded with anger; I’d given a hundred percent to this family. I kept my lips sealed, my thoughts to myself. True, Brenda was always wilful, but never spiteful. I simply said, “Yes, ma’am,” and continued with my chores.
Life continued, with Nora and me attending to chores with a heavy heart. Calmness descended; we saw little of either Simon or Brenda as they worked ceaselessly to build their empire. That is, until one day a furious Brenda hollered for us to come to the kitchen where Simon, a pained expression on his face, sat beside his daughter.
“I’m pregnant, and before you even think of offering any congratulations, don’t bother. My lover, my esteemed politician whose aim is to serve his country, has dropped me. He doesn’t want a kid interfering with his plans. He threw money at me and told me to get rid of it. What I have to say to you is never, ever reveal to anyone the name of my child’s father.”
My instinct was to take her in my arms as I used to do when she was upset, but that would not have been appreciated. I looked across at her father, a broken man, who seemed to have shrunk into himself. I hadn’t noticed until then how ill he looked and a thought struck me… Oh God, he’s really sick. Nora and I swore allegiance to her, assured our boss, as we had now come to think of her, that we would keep her secret.
“After all,” I couldn’t resist saying, “we have been loyal to you all your life.”
The irony was lost to her.
“My father and I have a request to ask. Will you help with the care of the baby?”
“Of course we will. It will be good to have a young ‘un around the place again.”
She stormed out of the room without a glance at us, giving the impression that this was everyone else’s fault but hers. Simon remained seated.
“Molly, Nora.” He beckoned us to sit closer. “Forgive my daughter’s attitude please. I know she’s changed towards you, and you, of all people, don’t deserve it. I have tried to get her to loosen up, but she’s gotten a hard shell around her over the years and this pregnancy will make her even more difficult to live with. I blame myself for bringing her into the firm too soon. It’s gone to her head completely and I’m not strong enough to fight her. She is brusque with my staff and I fear they will dislike her. You both need to know, I have terminal cancer, they say twenty-four months or so…”
His voice trailed off… I sensed underlying fear, poor man.
Simon wanted to talk more; we sat with him for over an hour drinking tea, until tiredness drove him to retire for the night. As he left the room he turned to me.
“Molly, please don’t abandon my difficult daughter when I’m gone. I know she’s fickle, but she’ll need you both, even if she won’t admit it. I told her only yesterday about my prognosis, then she dropped her own bombshell. In a sense I’m pleased, as she will have the little one to focus on when I’m no longer here.”
With that, he shuffled off to bed; only then did I see how thin he was… how sick.
The next few months passed quickly, luring me into a sense of serenity. Simon handed over most of the running of the firm to his daughter, while retaining overall control, but becoming weaker as the weeks passed. Medical assistants were employed to attend to his needs. The only real dealings I had with him was to tempt him to eat by producing some of his favourite meals. Brenda’s pregnancy proceeded normally and she continued with her business ventures as usual.
“I’m not ill,” she would retort when it was suggested she rest more.
Her daughter was delivered safely. Within a short period, the new mother returned to work with renewed vigour, as if she found childbirth a disruption to her busy life. Simon rejoiced in the birth of his tiny granddaughter, enjoyed many hours with the beautiful baby, conscious of the fact that her care was more and more in the hands of his household staff and that his own time with her was now limited.
Molly, seated in her own apartment, knitted furiously as if to vent her feelings on the garment, as she recalled meeting Brenda’s associates for the first time.
One day, I was instructed to prepare a dinner party for seven people. Brenda had, with her father’s blessing, gathered together her own specially selected team of trusted associates and wished to introduce them to him during a bonding session. It was the first time I had met Myra Hill. I thought her a haughty kind of person; those cold eyes that never made direct contact with me as I served the meal gave me the shivers. She’ll do well with Brenda, I thought. Two of a kind.
These dinner parties became a regular occurrence over the next few months and years. The highlight of the evening was when Lucy was brought into the company to be admired and fussed over, before being removed to the sanctuary of her nursery. Bob Lees and his partner Justin Palmer showed genuine interest, making all the right noises at the delightful child, unlike the aloof Myra and, to a degree, the Scotts. Olivia gave her a cursory glance; “sweet kid” was about as much as she could summon from those overly painted lips, while her husband, Ron, smiled dutifully as the adoring mother looked on.
Simon Mears’ death had a shattering effect on his daughter, who had approached his illness with denial, making the final event more traumatic for her. It was the first time in many years that she had come to me in tears, seeking comfort.
“Oh Molly, what am I going to do without him? My dad! He told me how ill he was and I wanted to get him the best specialists, fly them in if necessary. God, we could well afford it, but he knew nothing could be done and did not want any more intrusive treatment. He just wished what time he had left to have some quality. He loved his little granddaughter and wanted to spend hours with her. Oh, Molly!”
As she sobbed in my arms, tension subsided in her shaking body. Finally, she became more composed and immersed herself into the funeral arrangements. Almost with undue haste, she returned to work. That did not surprise me.
The years flew or so it seemed to me, and young Lucy grew to be a delightful child who spent most of her time with me in the kitchen, chattering non-stop, confiding in me or following Nora around as she worked her chores. We adored each other.
Molly Kelly, I chided to m
yself. You won’t get supper ready sitting around reminiscing or worrying about madam upstairs.
Madam, as Molly privately referred to her employer, sat in her office poring over the latest sales figures. Her recent spat with Lucy had had an unnerving effect on her. Normally she ignored her daughter’s outbursts, but, this time, Lucy’s plea touched a nerve in the normally resolute woman.
‘I’ll make a point of taking time out with her to discuss her future and persuade her to come around to my way of thinking. I can still encourage her to continue learning with Ken Farmer; after all, I’ve spent a load of dollars equipping her music room. Granted, she plays beautifully, but come on… music as a career…?’
Returning home that evening, Brenda looked for her daughter only to be reminded by Nora that she was staying over with Abigail.
“Slipped my mind. I’ll speak to her tomorrow. By the way, how did it go at the dentist?”
“Good, thanks, the tooth was extracted and I’m fine now.”
Nora thought that was about the longest conversation the two of them had had in months.
Chapter 32
Near the cabin in Montana, an elderly man sat listening to the radio report. His wife commented on a news item.
“Poor kid, that Lucy Mears. I wonder if she is still alive. Her folks must be frantic with worry.”
“Yeah, strange business; no ransom demand and her mom’s rich; strange indeed. Honey, I’d best get to the cabin, been asked to have it ready for tomorrow. Beats me why anyone would want to travel in this weather. It’s the worst winter we’ve had in many years.”
For a small payment, Gus and Ellie Stiller had looked after the cabin for several years, preparing it when required for visitors. It was easy enough for them to keep it stocked with groceries and logs. They seldom saw anyone occupy it and had clear instructions never to disturb the occupants. The couple led a quiet life, but in their youth they enjoyed all that Montana had to offer. Both were excellent skiers. Gus had helped with dog sled treks, while Ellie was involved in festival events.
“Who’s coming this time?”
“I’ve been told it’s some writer who wants peace and quiet to finish a book, been told not to disturb.”
“Best get going before it gets dark then… mind the icy path.”
The following evening Gus studied the menacing storm.
“Hey, Ellie, over there. Some kind of a vehicle on the track near the cabin… looks like it’s been abandoned. I’m going to have me a look-see.”
Returning home, he told of his findings.
“Big campervan, New York plates… has a burst tyre, it won’t be going nowhere for a while. Strange though, I’m sure I saw three sets of footprints… hard to tell though in the snow.”
Next morning, Ellie stood by her kitchen window, binoculars focused across towards the cabin.
“Look, honey,” she called to her sleepy husband. “I’m sure as hell certain I saw a young girl look out that window.”
She handed the binoculars to her husband, who adjusted them and studied the cabin for some time, before commenting.
“Who would have a kid up here in this weather? Except…”
“You thinking’ what I’m thinking’…? Could that be that missing kid? Hey, don’t expect it is, miles from her home. Honey, I’d never forgive myself if I ignored this and then heard something awful had happened to any kid. Could be quite innocent, but, hell, I’m gonna call the police. Damn! No signal and I ain’t driving to Polson. We’ll just keep an eye open, see what transpires over the next few days. The kid’s moving from window to window, but she didn’t see me.”
***
Superintendent Benson took a call from a colleague in Montana.
“Sir, we’ve had a call from a member of the public who thinks he might have located your missing kid in Montana. Unfortunately, the weather here played havoc with signals, the call has only just reached me.”
He proceeded to relay what Gus Stiller had told him.
“It may be a false sighting, but we sent some officers to the area. It was hellish difficult for them to reach it, but the cabin in question was empty. There were signs of recent occupancy. My team swept the place for prints, they are en route to your lab. I sent a chopper out to have a look around but had to recall it due to weather, but I’ve alerted other states to look for a large campervan with New York plates… with instructions not to impound it, but to watch where it finally stops. Hey, and I made some more enquiries. You will be interested in this info.”
Benson was horrified to hear who owned the cabin.
“Well, I’ll be damned… I’ll get a team from N.Y. to visit the owner in question. Much appreciated, Officer. We have had several false sightings, but we check them all. This might just be the one!”
Meanwhile, a garage owner at Wisconsin, an elderly, sprightly man, contacted local police when he became suspicious of a customer who had brought his vehicle for repair. He regaled his memory of the event.
“It was some weeks ago now,” he mused. “A guy drove in with a top-of-the-range campervan, said the engine was kind of dragging a bit and asked if I could have a look at it. It took me a couple of hours to sort out. He insisted on sticking around. I told him there was a coffee shop nearby where he would be out of the weather, but he wanted to stay and watch. I thought it kind of odd, but, what the heck, he was paying me to do the work and in wintertime I take all I can get. He didn’t speak much. I guess he was foreign, Polish, maybe. I asked what he was doing driving such a vehicle in this hellish weather, but he was a bit reluctant to make conversation… said something about delivering it to a friend. Anyhow, I fixed the van and he took off. I noticed the plates, have it written here, got to keep good records, you know… New York plates, they were. Couple of days later I sees the guy driving past the garage. I waved over, but he seemed to ignore me… maybe he was concentrating on the road. Conditions weren’t too good… now, the odd thing… I was sure I saw a kid, a young girl, look out from behind a window screen. Hey, it was just a glimpse… never thought much about it, just thought it odd to have a kid out of school and travelling along dangerous roads… wasn’t till weeks later when I saw something on TV about a missing kid, I remembered the incident and called you guys. Hope I’ve not wasted your time or left it way too late.”
“No way, sir, have you done that. In fact, you might just have given us valuable information. We are grateful for your observations. Someone will be in touch later; meanwhile, take this number, it will get you straight to the detective leading the enquiry, should you remember anything else, however small.”
Chapter 33
Unaware of the melee surrounding them, Lucy and her companions left the cabin and continued their long journey, retracing their route. Due to her agitated state, Zelda had given her a mild sedative, which lulled the girl to sleep in the now very familiar campervan.
***
After a difficult journey, Lucy, free from sedation for several days, became more aware of her plight. She was extremely weary from travel and was relieved to hear Zelda proclaim, “Ten more minutes, Lucy, and all will be made clear to you. We have arrived.”
The campervan turned into a driveway, which curved through an avenue of trees, coming to a halt in front of a large colonial-style house. An old sleepy dog stretched, raised itself up from its comfortable position and, tail wagging, approached the visitors. Zelda, first out, patted the dog, which snuggled up to her, enjoying being reunited with a familiar face.
“Hey there, Bud.”
Kristof helped Lucy down from her prison for the last time and escorted her to the front door, which opened to reveal a man standing there awaiting their arrival.
“George!” hollered Lucy as she threw herself into his arms and succumbed to pent-up emotions suppressed for so long. She cried in his arms as the floodgates opened, tears flowing like an unstoppable tap. Lucy tried to speak; only sobs came out.
“Hush, Lucy, everything will be explained to you now. There
’s someone who wants to meet you. You’d best go freshen up first.”
George hugged the weeping child until her sobs began to ease. He looked gaunt and pale, the past months having transformed him from a healthy robust man to a shadow of his former self. His eyes were red with constant weeping. He visibly relaxed as he held Lucy, knowing that soon their ordeal would be over.
“Zelda will take you to your room and stay with you until you are sent for. Don’t worry, honey, everything will be fine and you’ll soon be home. You’ve no idea how pleased I am to see you. We have so much to talk about and explain, but now freshen up. It will help you feel better.”
Zelda, arm around the whimpering child, led her through an exquisite entrance hall: a circular area, ornately decorated with silk and gold leaf wall hangings. A few tasteful Chippendale pieces set between statuettes mounted on Doric pillars set a tone of elegance and wealth. She led the girl up an elaborate Mediterranean-style staircase to the first floor into a tastefully furnished bedroom, which Zelda stated had been decorated expressly for her stay.
“Who lives here? Whose house is this? Why am I here? I want to call Mama.”
“Soon, child, soon,” said Zelda, leading the child to where a set of designer clothes was spread out for her approval.
“The shower room is in there. Go freshen up and change clothes.”
When Lucy reappeared, she seemed calmer, accepting her fate with a hope that she would soon be freed from this nightmare.
A tray of tempting food was set on a little table by the bay window affording stunning views over manicured gardens. Lucy ate, not from hunger but from habit. Zelda fussed about, humming to herself, relieved to have come to the end of a journey that had been undertaken in difficult circumstances. A knock came at the door and Zelda was instructed to escort the young guest to the master suite.
“Lucy, dragi dijete, baby, come with me to meet my boss.”
CALL MAMA Page 14