by K. J. Young
Mark casts off these negative thoughts and tells himself that oversleeping is not that big a deal. He hasn’t done anything that can’t be undone. He’ll grovel if need be, beg Roy and Alma to look past his mistake, and assure them it will never happen again.
Making his way down the hall, he checks rooms as he goes, finding all of them empty. This house is entirely too large. Closer to the front of the house, he hears voices coming from the blue room, and when he enters and sees both Alma and Roy, dressed for the day and sitting comfortably on the sofa together, he is ready to throw himself at their mercy. “I’m so sorry,” he says, still standing in the doorway. “I can’t believe I overslept.” He is ready to say more, to tell them he’ll make it up to them, work harder, longer, be more attentive, whatever it takes, but Roy is already disregarding his concerns.
“My boy, don’t worry yourself.” Next to him, Alma is all smiles. “Moving into a new place takes some adjustment. You were obviously tired, so we decided to let you sleep in.” He takes his sister’s hand. “Didn’t we, dear?”
She nods. “Sometimes you need to sleep.” Simply stated, but definitely tuned in. Mark finds that Alma surprises him at times. He is starting to believe that her brain is like a radio that’s occasionally on the fritz. Sometimes things come through clearly. Other times her mind appears to malfunction completely.
“That’s kind of you,” Mark says, leaning against the doorframe. “But I promise it won’t happen again.” He runs his fingers over his scalp. Without the benefit of the pomade, his hair seemingly has a life of its own.
“Go ahead and get yourself together, then eat some breakfast. You’ll want to be at your best this morning. We have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” Mark raises his eyebrows.
Roy rubs his hands together. “Wait until you see!” His eyes sparkle with mischief, while his sister gives Mark a yellow-toothed grin. “I think you’re going to be delighted.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“Off you go.” Roy smiles and points a finger at the door.
Mark doesn’t need to be told twice. He visits his bathroom, first splashing his face with water, then getting acquainted with his toothbrush in order to alleviate his cottonmouth. When he’s done, he runs pomade through his hair, sculpting it into something resembling a style. A few minutes later while he’s eating breakfast, Nurse Darby walks in and stands in front of him, her arms folded over the front of her white polyester dress. “I am here to say goodbye.”
“You’re leaving for the day?” Mark says, surprised that he was not informed of this ahead of time. He leans back in his chair to look up at her.
She nods. “For the day and for always. I have been informed that my service is no longer needed.” Her face darkens with irritation. She lifts her chin. “They will see that I am not so easily replaced.” And with that, Mark understands that her bossy demeanor is a cover for her need to feel indispensable. To him, the idea is laughable. Why does she think they won’t be able to function without her? It’s a universal truth that everyone is replaceable. He’s known this his entire life.
Mark nods and says, “It’s been nice working with you.” If she were someone he cared about, he’d get up and shake her hand, look into her eyes, and say he hoped they’d cross paths again. Instead, he stays in his seat. “I wish you the best of luck in your next job.”
“You have not seen the last of me.” She turns and leaves the room, her white nurse’s shoes squeaking as she makes her way down the hall.
From this new turn of events, Mark guesses that Roy’s big surprise must involve Nurse Darby’s replacement. Whoever they hire will definitely be an improvement. Knowing she’s gone makes him feel lighter. He washes the dishes and wipes off the table, whistling as he goes. This will probably be his last time doing it, since he’s decided to assign the new girl kitchen duty. With any luck, he can play Nurse Darby’s role as the supervisor and spend more time with Roy and Alma. He hasn’t forgotten how Nurse Darby quoted the old man as saying Mark would be in charge of the household and their finances. Mark intends to take a bold approach and volunteer for the position. He’d also like to ask more questions about the second floor and the record on the Victrola. He’s curious to see the look on Roy’s face when he broaches the subject, but he will never reveal that he’s been up there himself. He’ll have to say he heard about it from Lisa. If they’re going to be mad at anyone, let it be the person who can’t object.
It’s always important to know who to blame.
When he’s finished in the kitchen, he makes his way back to the blue room. He’s been promised a surprise, so hearing several voices doesn’t faze him. By the sounds of it, the new Lisa has arrived, accompanied by Dr. Cross. One of the voices coming from the room is decidedly familiar. He quickens his pace, and when he turns into the room, his eyes widen when he sees Monica sitting in one of the chairs opposite Roy and Alma. Dr. Cross is in the other chair, intently gazing at Monica, who is animatedly chatting with the group.
“Monica?” As he says her name, untold questions go through his head. She obviously came to deliver the suits he left behind—that’s the only thing that makes sense. He didn’t leave an address, but he described the place and said it was on Bartleby off of Clarke. It wouldn’t take much to track down the house, seeing as it’s the sole mansion in the industrial area. Or maybe she looked up the Walgraves in the phone book. Monica is known to be enterprising. “What are you doing here?” He walks into the room and is now standing center stage, all eyes on him.
“Mark!” She stands up and joins him, then kisses him on the cheek. Dr. Cross and the old people are beaming in their direction, so they must not be too disapproving of the fact that he has a female guest visiting while he’s on the job. “Are you surprised to see me?” She raises her eyebrows flirtatiously.
“Very,” he answers. She slips her hand around his arm, making him self-conscious. “Have you met everyone?” he asks. “Roy, Alma, Dr. Cross, this is my girlfriend, Monica.” Or at least she had been his girlfriend.
“Mark, don’t be so dense,” she says, giving him a little slap. “Of course I’ve met them. They just hired me to work here full-time.”
And she’s not even kidding. Mark looks around at the others in the room, all of their faces showing barely restrained joy.
“Surprise,” Alma says, smoothing her skirt across her knees.
“I do believe Mark is speechless,” Roy says, chuckling. “Are you surprised, my boy?”
“More than I can say,” he says, the first words that come to mind. All he can think about is how adamantly opposed Monica was to the idea of coming to work at Alden Manor. He asks, “How did this happen?”
Monica laughs. “Turns out that Dr. Cross is a very persuasive man.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Everything improves once Monica is there. The job that felt so tedious is now a breeze. She brings levity to every chore, brightening the mood in the house. Mark has never seen her as a caregiver type, but after the first day she slides right into the position as if it were her life’s calling. Mark shows her the binder with all the instructions. She scans it but doesn’t refer to it after that. “It’s not that hard,” she says. “The job title is home health aide, not rocket scientist.” She’s happy to handle the meal preparation, and Mark is glad to leave her to it. To make it fair, he cleans up after each meal and does the dishes without complaint.
When he asks what made her change her mind, she grins. “Let’s just say the signing bonus made it worth my while.”
She got a signing bonus? Mark pretends this is good news, but part of him is pissed off that he didn’t get the same thing. Irate, he vows to come out ahead in other ways.
“How did Dr. Cross even find you?” he asks.
“Simple,” she replies. “He got the address to our apartment off your application.” She also tells him Brenda and Brenda’s sister agreed to sublet their old apartment, so there’s no need to worry about that. C
onveniently, she seems to have forgotten that having her friend move in was his idea in the first place. When he asks the amount of the signing bonus, she’s cagey, saying there was a nondisclosure agreement. They used to tell each other everything. Now it’s like they’re on different teams.
Despite all of this, he’s glad she’s there. The contrast between Nurse Darby and Monica is as wide as Lake Michigan. Monica is not just someone who cuts up meat and helps Alma brush her teeth. She’s a ray of light, making everyone in the household happier. Case in point, she comes across a radio in one of the kitchen cabinets, and after getting the okay from Roy, she finds a radio station that plays “golden oldies,” putting a smile on Alma’s face. When a big band song comes on, Roy asks Mark, “Would you two mind dancing?”
“Like this?” To the delight of the Walgraves, Mark quickly takes Monica in his arms and whirls her around the kitchen.
Roy smiles, then nudges Alma and says, “Now that’s what I call chemistry.”
The sleeping arrangements are not ideal. Monica sleeps on a rollaway bed in Alma’s room, all the better to hear her if she stirs during the night. Mark would have thought this would be a deal breaker for Monica, who cherishes both her privacy and her sleep time, but she says it’s not a problem. Their new nighttime routine goes like this: the four of them eat dinner together, then all of them kick back some brandy manhattans before heading off to bed. The older folks go to sleep before Mark and Monica do, leaving time for sex and private conversation in Mark’s bedroom. It’s the only time they have to talk without the Walgraves within earshot.
On the second night, after Roy and Alma have gone to bed, they have a discussion in Mark’s bed after some fairly tame sex. He tells her about his trip up to the second floor, trying hard to convey how terrifying the experience was. He can tell she doesn’t quite get it.
Monica says, “Any old house is creepy in the dark. That’s the premise for nearly every horror movie, right?”
“This is more than that. If you could have heard the chanting, you’d understand. It gets under your skin. It’s like they’re in the room with you.”
“Hmm,” she says, running a finger along his arm. “Doesn’t sound that scary. I think I could handle it.” Before he can respond, she changes the subject. “So whatever happened with them putting you in charge of everything?”
“I keep meaning to bring it up, but I haven’t found the right time yet.”
“The right time?” She laughs. “I would think a money-grubber like you would find an opening. Sooner is always better than later.”
“It’s a touchy subject. I’m trying to approach it delicately.”
“Okay. Have it your way.” The silence between them looms. “Are you going to ask them about the creepy shit in the ballroom?”
“I want to,” he admits. “I’d love to know what that’s all about. I’m not going to say I went upstairs, of course. I’m going to say I heard about it from Lisa. That she went up there and confided in me.”
“Blaming the dead girl?”
Put that way, it sounds pretty cold. Monica always did know how to cut through his crap. “Something like that.” He has no choice. He has to lie. It’s not like he’s going to confess to breaking the rules.
“Why wait? Why not just ask?”
“I will, I will. Like I said, it’s a touchy subject.” He sighs. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“If you’re going to be a con man, you better grow some balls, Mark Norman. The money’s not going to steal itself, you know.”
He chuckles under his breath. The con man reference—the same thing that raised his ire when spoken by his stepfather—is flattering coming from her. It makes him feel like a tough guy in an old movie. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding back. I’ve got a plan.”
Mark thinks she understands his thinking on the subject, so he’s shocked the next day at breakfast when she blurts out, “Nurse Darby told Mark that you plan to put him in charge of running the household and making decisions on behalf of the two of you. He’s hesitant to mention it for fear of looking opportunistic, but he’d be happy to take on the responsibility. He told me he loves you like family.”
Mark’s face flames red with mortification and anger. The gall. Monica is going to ruin everything. Roy exchanges a look with Alma, whose face doesn’t give anything away. Or maybe Alma is checked out once again.
Mark says, “Nurse Darby did tell me that, but I wasn’t going to say anything.” He shoots a disapproving look at Monica, who has a smug expression on her face, like, This is how it’s done. As if he didn’t know how to ask, as opposed to wanting to work the subject into a conversation naturally. Good job being subtle, Monica.
Roy speaks slowly. “I’m glad Monica brought it up, because we feel like Mark is family as well.” He turns his attention to Mark. “We were so fond of Lisa that we initially asked her to take on a fiduciary role, but sad to say, the idea weighed heavily on her.” He shakes his head and tells them more about the day they asked Lisa to take on responsibilities for both Alma and Roy. They’d planned on compensating her for her trouble, but the stricken look on her face spoke volumes. “She looked like we’d pointed a gun at her head.” After that, they noticed a change in her demeanor. “I believe she found the idea to be a burden. I fear we may have contributed to her breakdown.”
Mark quickly says, “I would be happy to serve in that capacity. It wouldn’t be a burden at all.”
Roy’s face lights up, and even Alma smiles, her head bobbing up and down. “That is excellent news. We’ll take care of it this very day.”
That evening, two of the members of the Redevine Society, Neela and Sam, come to visit after dinner. All six of them gather in the blue room, where Sam opens his leather briefcase and pulls out a stack of paperwork for Mark to sign. He explains that he is an attorney, and Neela is a notary. “We’ll be happy to walk you through the process,” he says with a smile. With each form Sam explains what Mark will be agreeing to and points to the places requiring a signature and a date.
Mark reads each page and afterward hands it to Monica, who looks over it as well. Both of them look for loopholes that would be to his disadvantage, but the agreements seem pretty straightforward. Alma and Roy authorize Mark to make decisions regarding their health care in the event they’re unable to, and they also add him to their bank accounts so he can pay the bills on their behalf. The last and most shocking development is a new will that makes him the main beneficiary of the Walgrave estate.
Mark listens as Sam explains this in a straightforward manner, as if designating Mark, a near stranger, as the one to inherit a lifetime of wealth is no big deal. Sam says, “The Walgraves have no outstanding debt, which will make the estate easier to settle.” Mark looks around the circle at the others: Neela gazing at him with approval, Alma staring vacantly across the room, and Roy, who regards him with a kindly smile. Only Monica appears a little surprised at this news.
Mark says, “Just to be clear—in the event that Roy and Alma pass away, they’ve chosen me to inherit everything?” Mentally he estimates the value of the house, the antique furniture, and the car. Even if their bank accounts are low on funds, the value of what they own is considerable.
“That’s correct,” Sam says, showing his teeth in a wide grin.
Monica says, “So there are no relatives or friends who will contest the will? No charities they want to list? It’s all just Mark?”
Mark is grateful for the clarification, but he’s also annoyed that she’s bringing up potential conflicts. She’s opened the door for them to change their minds. What if they suddenly remember a nephew who might be a better candidate? Or a deserving charity that would, given their money, make the world a better place? God help him then. He’s never been this close to getting a life-changing windfall, and it may never happen again. If Monica fucks it up for him, she’s going to be sorry.
Roy shakes his head. “We’ve given this a lot of thought.” He reaches over and squeezes Alma’
s hand. “My sister and I have outlived all our relatives, and the few friends we have remaining”—he tilts his head toward Neela and Sam—“are all financially established. Mark, on the other hand, is a young man just ready to take the world by storm. When I die, it will be with a smile, knowing that someone deserving will use what I built to forge his own path.”
Just like a prepared speech that has been performed many times, the words land perfectly. Who can argue with such a kind, wise sentiment? Mark beams and thanks them profusely. “I don’t know what to say,” he says. “I’m stunned by your generosity.”
“No need for all that,” Roy says. “I have faith that you’ll use the money wisely.”
After everyone is through signing and the documents are notarized, Sam stands up to shake Mark’s hand and thanks him. “You’re a good man, Mark Norman,” he says. “The rewards are great, but as you can guess, the responsibility is great as well.” He reaches into his back pocket, retrieves his wallet, and pulls out a business card, which he hands to Mark. “Any questions or concerns, just give me a call.”
Mark is twenty-five years old, but this is the first time he remembers a professional treating him like a peer, and he likes it. He nods agreeably and thanks Sam for handling the legalities. Now he sees Alma and Roy through a different lens. No one lives forever, and these two seem like they’re inching toward the finish line.
He has no idea how he lucked out this way, but he’s not going to turn it down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
That night, after the Burmans leave, Roy mixes up the manhattans and is generous with the brandy. As he hands them out, he says, “A celebration. Here’s to tying up loose ends.”