“We can set up a trust fund or something,” Vera suggested.
“Well, we can talk more about that later. Okay? Now perhaps you’ll show me where you want to put the elevator.”
Vera took him to see the Ladies’ Necessary, then downstairs to the study.
“This place offers some engineering challenges,” he said. “I think we could put an elevator here, though. It could open to the hallway.”
“This is wonderful,” Olivia said. “I can make some of the rooms into activity rooms for Mrs. Agatha, and the enclosed porch is perfect for her to get some sun in the wintertime. We can put plants there to make it cheerful. Maybe she’d enjoy doing some scrapbooking with me.”
“She could put together a history of the family and the boatyard,” Vera said. “She knows more about it than anyone else.”
“I’d like to move all these charts to the yacht club,” Reggie said, opening an old one. “This goes back to the early 1900s. Maybe we could create a chart room in one of the rooms there.”
“Grandfather had a chart room,” Vera said. “Sometimes I hid there to get out of sitting with a bunch of ladies having tea.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been in the house?” Reggie asked.
“Not since Mom and Dad moved out.” Vera shrugged. “No reason to go in there.”
“I remember exploring the towers when we were kids. The yacht club doesn’t use the whole house. Would you take me through the old place? We might be able to utilize more of it.”
Vera shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her. “I suppose, if there’s time.”
“I’ve got time. You don’t leave until Sunday, right? How about Friday.”
Vera hesitated for a moment. “All right,” she said. “I guess I can do that.”
Wednesday morning was perfect. Something about the angle of the sun and the crisp, early morning air gave clarity to the brilliant colors surrounding Fairy Pond. Jane tried several different locations for her easel until she found a spot with a view of the pond with rocks and branches reflected in the water, and several wrens enjoying a morning bath. Getting out her acrylic paints, she blended her background colors and began spreading paint with a palette knife over the canvas. At home, she often painted with oil paints, loving the depth and richness they created, but today she wanted to capture the scene in one sitting, without having to wait for layers to dry.
Concentrating, she blocked the outside world from her thoughts. She loved the sense of isolation that came with painting a scene. The narrow view and her canvas became the entire world for a brief time, and she could pour her heart and soul into capturing a moment in time, apart from the bustle and problems of life. As she applied color upon color, the richness and variety of God’s creation amazed her anew.
A sudden noise sent the robins flying as the canopy of trees and the water magnified the sound of pounding footfalls. A lone figure broke into the scene, a jogger in running shorts and a T-shirt. Jane could hear his breath heave as his arms and legs moved in harmony. Peace and stillness shattered by sound and action.
As the runner exited her scene, another jogger came into view. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, she saw the race. Dozens of racers in colorful shorts and sweat suits and a variety of clothing would run and walk through her scene.
Mixing a new batch of flesh color, Jane added vertical lines and angles, sharp and straight—motion against the backdrop of languid lines and the smooth blues and purples of the water and soft, warm greens, yellows and hints of red in the trees and bushes.
She worked quickly, dabbing and slashing and swirling the paint onto the canvas, trying to capture as much from the vision in her mind as from the scene in front of her eyes. Finally, she sat back and looked with a critical eye at the finished painting. The total effect made her smile. Not a masterpiece, perhaps, but the sensations of peace and disruption, stillness and action were there, just the way she’d seen and felt them. She’d painted Fairy Pond many times, in every season. This painting might become her favorite.
Glancing at her watch, she realized the morning had slipped away from her. In a few hours, she would be the figure breaking the silence of Fairy Pond, along with Eleanor Renda and perhaps the entire high school cross-country team. She packed up her paints and headed home.
Chapter Twenty
Alice and Vera were ready to leave Agatha’s house Wednesday morning when Reggie arrived with a full team of tanned, rugged-looking men in jeans and T-shirts. Some were unshaven and had tattoos adorning their arms. Alice thought they’d look intimidating if Reggie weren’t leading them.
“We want to see if your renovations are possible,” Reggie said. “You showed me where the elevator might go, but take us through everything you have in mind so we can look at structural issues. We might as well get a full list of what’s needed. Then we can decide which supplies we’d need and whether we can do it.”
Vera took the men to the butler’s closet in the hallway.
They measured and tapped on walls, talking about studs and sixteen-inch centers and rough-cut lumber. Alice and Vera listened as they discussed the original materials, which were not the standard sizes available now, and whether they would need to add weight-bearing beams and all manner of terminology foreign to Alice.
They descended to the dark, cold basement. In the dim light of a bare bulb, they measured some more and checked floor joists. The scruffiest of the men rattled off codes and mathematical equations that meant nothing to Alice. Vera was listening intently. “Do you understand what they’re saying?” Alice asked.
Vera shook her head. “Not really, but it sounds impressive, as though they know what they’re doing. Considering the boats they’ve built, I’d trust them to do the job right.”
One of the men suggested a system of ramps to get into the house. They decided to go with a more expensive elevator than the one the women had discussed. The new one would go from the basement all the way to the third floor.
“All right. We’ll estimate everything, then see how much we can do. I know moving her into Briarhurst would be expensive, but her house could be sold if necessary,” Reggie said.
“She’d hate that. See what you come up with.”
Reggie closed his notebook. “Give me the number of the elevator company. I should have a rough estimate by tomorrow morning. We’ll talk some more then.”
“Good. I’d love to have this settled before I have to leave, one way or the other. I don’t know how much longer they’ll keep her in the nursing facility.”
Vera gave Reggie the phone number. Then he and his crew left. Vera looked at Alice.
“I feel like I’ve been through the ringer. What if this can’t work?”
“At least your cousin is agreeable to trying. Don’t borrow trouble,” Alice said. “Wait and see what he can do.”
Vera nodded. “I don’t want to disappoint Aunt Agatha. I know I’d hate it if someone insisted I had to move out of my home.”
Agatha was sitting in a chair, dressed in her bright red-and-purple caftan. She had on a pair of lavender slip-on shoes. Her hair was combed, although the back stuck up from lying on it. Her lipstick covered more than her mouth, her eyebrows peaked like two tepees and she was frowning like a thundercloud.
“Aunt Agatha, you look beautiful!” Vera said, smiling delightedly.
“You look lovely, Agatha,” Alice echoed. “Do you feel better?”
“I suppose,” she said, but her glower said otherwise. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so mad I could just spit nails,” she said. “Poor Lillian. Her son told her she couldn’t go home, even to make sure they pack her things properly. He wants to have an estate sale and get rid of everything. She collected fine porcelain vases from all over the world and he wants to sell them off, just like that,” she said, trying to snap her fingers.
“What does Lillian say?” Vera asked.
“She tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen. What can she say? She’s helpl
ess. She’s been crying all morning. I hate it,” Agatha said. “Lillian and her husband used to go cruising with George and me. We went up the coast to Maine and Prince Edward Island before George died. Her husband died the next year. She and I took a cruise to Greece a year later, to honor our husbands. They loved the sea, you know.”
“I know,” Vera said.
“Her husband would take that boy of theirs to task, let me tell you. He wouldn’t put up with this. Neither would George.”
Vera took a deep breath. Alice could see she was holding back, wanting to say something about her plans, but knowing it was too soon. She gave Alice a helpless look.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Agatha. I wish there was something I could do.”
Agatha gave Vera a sad, resigned smile and patted her hand. “I know, dear. I know. I’ve been praying. I don’t know how the Lord can make this better, but I just know He can. If you would, you can pray for my friend too.”
“I will. I definitely will.”
Jane was out on the lawn stretching, one leg extended back as far as it would go, when Eleanor pulled up, parked at the curb and got out. The track coach was dressed in a navy blue workout suit. She still had a whistle hanging around her neck. She opened the back of her car and shed her cover-up suit down to running shorts and a sports top.
“Hi,” she said, shutting the door and turning around. “Ready to run?”
“Yes. Do you want to stretch out first?”
“I just did stretches with the kids.” She did a couple of twists and leg extensions. “I should be good to go.”
Jane straightened, bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times, then nodded. “Up or down?”
“Let’s start up and see how fast we can take the hill. Ready?”
This woman meant business. Jane got into a starting position. “Ready.”
“Go.” Eleanor took off like a shot. Jane ran after her, giving it her all. She was amazed to pass Eleanor on the last stretch of the hill and top it just a hair ahead of the track coach. She slowed to a medium pace.
“Good run,” Eleanor said, catching up. “Let’s see if we can keep a nice pace.” She accelerated slightly, but nothing like the initial push.
Jane caught her easily and set her pace to match, step for step. They ran in silence for half a mile. Jane’s ponytail swung side to side. Eleanor’s short hair bobbed slightly. For a few seconds, Jane considered cutting her own hair, but then discarded that idea. The race would only last a short time. It would take years to grow back her hair.
“You’ve got a good sprint, especially uphill. Can you sustain it?” Eleanor asked.
“Not at this pace,” Jane said, glancing over at her partner. Eleanor didn’t even look winded.
“What’s your goal for this race?”
“To finish?” Jane said, half joking. “I just want to do my best. They’re expecting contestants who run marathons all the time. I haven’t run a race since high school.”
“But you walk and jog regularly, so you’re in training all the time. I teach others how to train, but I don’t do much of it myself. I do laps on the school track every day. That’s only part of a good training regime. We have two and a half weeks. Let’s attack this to turn in a good time.”
“I’m game. I need all the help I can get.”
“All right. We don’t have to run the full course every time we work out. We’ll work to build stamina and speed. Hills are important, since the course has several. If we can work out together Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, we can work by ourselves the other days.”
“I can do that. What’s the best workout when I’m alone?” Jane asked.
“Two things. At least once a week, work out on the long hill. Run it several times, increasing your speed each time. A couple of days, do track workouts. Come to the school and run laps. Do consecutive lap sets, increasing your speed on each set. Run four laps at moderate speed, then three laps at a faster pace, then two fast laps and finish with one lap at top speed. Walk a lap between each set.”
Jane nodded. “I can do that. Do I need someone to time me?”
“No. It doesn’t matter so much how fast you run, but that you’re pushing your limits. You can judge that by your heart rate and breathing. Don’t exert so much that you cramp up or hurt yourself. This Saturday we’ll run a hard three miles. That will get our bodies into a race mode.”
“I appreciate this, Eleanor. I had no idea how to prepare for the race.”
Eleanor laughed. “I can feel the strain, just trying to keep up with you. I don’t often get to run with a partner anymore. I miss the competitive challenge. But you’re doing a fine job on your own.”
“You feel the strain?” Jane said, laughing. “I’m about to die.” She couldn’t believe her good fortune. She’d never imagined having an actual coach help her. She could picture crossing the finish line ahead of Carrie Gleason. Wouldn’t that be something? She didn’t care if that put her in first place or second to last. Beating Carrie would be enough.
“The figures look reasonable,” Reggie said. “I got a quote on the elevator and the more expensive materials. Our accountant ran the figures and confirmed this is the way to go, if…” Reggie stopped and looked across the kitchen table, strewn with paperwork, at Vera.
“It all sounds wonderful to me. What are the problems?” Vera asked.
“We need a firm commitment that Olivia Martino will move in and care for Aunt Agatha for at least one year. If she does that, our costs will come out about the same as if she moved into Briarhurst. If she stays more than a year, the costs drop dramatically.”
“Let’s call her and talk about details.”
Reggie grinned. “I knew you’d feel that way.” He glanced at his watch. “She should be here any minute.”
A car pulled into the driveway and stopped under the porte cochere. Vera hurried to the door to let in Olivia.
“I’d feel better coming through the back door to this place,” Olivia was saying as they came into the kitchen. “I can’t be coming and going through the grand entry.”
“Of course you can,” Vera said. “But there is a back door. A lane circles around to the kitchen. It has room for trucks to park and turn around for deliveries.”
“Mr. Reggie, I came as soon as I could,” Olivia said. She set her purse on a counter and walked to the table.
Reggie stood and held out his hand toward an empty chair. “Please sit down, Olivia. We appreciate your coming on such short notice.”
“I know you’re in a hurry to figure out how to care for poor Mrs. Agatha.” She sat and looked at Reggie expectantly.
“I’ve estimated all the work and supplies we’d need to bring this house up to standards to provide for someone who is handicapped, like Aunt Agatha. We would install an elevator, special hardware in all the bathrooms and handrails along the walls. She already has an intercom system, which can be set to monitor. With my crew and the available supplies, this house could be ready for Aunt Agatha in two weeks.”
A big smile bloomed on Olivia’s face, plumping her cheeks like rosy apples. “That’s wonderful!”
“We have one problem that must be solved or it won’t work.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“Yes. This entire plan depends on your being willing to commit to living here and caring for Agatha for at least a year. Have you thought about it? Can you do that?”
“Yes. Oh, this is an answer to my prayers, Mr. Reggie. Miss Alvera, I love your aunt and I’d do it just for her. But this will help me so that I won’t have to go back to work.”
Reggie frowned and rubbed his chin. “This’ll be more restrictive than a job. Agatha can be demanding. If she has trouble getting around, she’ll require a lot of help.”
“I know. I’ve worked with elderly people and people with mobility problems for years.” She glanced at Vera and Alice. “You’ve seen the people in the rehabilitation center. Some of them get bette
r and move on, but a lot of them stay there in the nursing home wing. We have to give them lots of attention. I can do that. I’d give her space to be independent too.”
“I know that’ll mean more to her than anything,” Vera said. “We can hire extra help when needed and she has a cleaning service, so you won’t have to do any of that. What about cooking for the two of you? Do we need to hire a cook? You’ll need transportation to take her to the doctor and shopping and to her social events. She’ll want to do as much as possible,” Vera said.
“Mrs. Agatha and I can get along just fine with the two of us. Transportation shouldn’t be a problem, and with Mr. Reggie right next door, I can call him if I need anything, but that would only be in an emergency,” she added, patting his hand. “I’m willing to sign a paper saying I’ll stay for a year, if that’s what you want.”
“You haven’t asked what we’ll pay or if you’ll have any time off,” Reggie said.
“My husband worked for you for forty years. I know you’ll give me a fair wage. Whatever you think is right is fine with me. But there’s still one person who has to approve.”
“Aunt Agatha,” Vera said. “I have no doubt she’ll get up and jump for joy when we tell her.”
“Please ask her if all these plans are all right. I don’t want to work for her unless she wants me.”
“She will. How long before you can move in?”
“I could move in pretty soon. Just give me a few days. I’ll try to rent out my house after I move in here.”
“Good,” Reggie said. “I’ll get my crew and we’ll move your stuff. You can have the entire third floor, if you like. Look it over. You can use Agatha’s furniture or put your own up there. We’ll talk to Aunt Agatha first thing tomorrow morning and find out from the doctor how much time we have to get ready. I want the elevator installed before she comes home. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
Eyes on the Prize Page 16