by Ann B. Ross
“That’s understandable,” I said, nodding. “She wants out and has no interest in making more work for herself. But it’s perfect for you if you get on it before somebody else slips in and begins to compete with you.”
She had left my house that afternoon with a new lease on her future. She’d walked out with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step, having been reassured that she had no obligation whatsoever to C. J. Sims and that I was more than ready to entrust money to her. She wanted to sleep on it for a few days before we committed ourselves, but I felt that we were now very close to entering negotiations for the purchase of The Handy Home Helpers.
“We’ll find another accountant,” I’d told her. “Someone who’ll keep you on track and his mind on his business.” Maybe a woman, I thought, to forestall any further monkey business.
After closing the door behind her, I thought that things might be well in hand and moving right along except for one worrisome possibility. What if there was somebody else lurking around who was thinking along the same lines? Surely we weren’t the only ones to have recognized the potential of a home health care business.
I did not want to get into a bidding war, but of course a bidding war would send Lurline Corn into the stratosphere with excitement. The thing to do, I told myself, was to make our first offer too attractive for her to refuse, thereby cutting out any other interested party.
Sam wouldn’t approve, but he was always willing to drop something if it didn’t work the way that suited him, whereas I tended to get stuck on one perfect idea, then do whatever it took to see it through.
I had to curb my enthusiasm, though, for Etta Mae’s sake. I couldn’t encumber her with a debt that she could neither live with nor repay.
It then occurred to me that I would do well to pray about the situation, the first petition being that no one else was even vaguely interested in making an offer for The Handy Home Helpers. Barring a positive answer to that, my next petition was that our first offer be accepted forthwith with no further back-and-forth negotiations.
Although I wished her no ill will, it also occurred to me that Lurline’s doctor might be led to tell her that she needed salt air and sunshine for her health, thereby making a move to Florida urgent. So I added that to my list of petitions as a possibility for the Lord to consider.
I admit that I have a tendency to make suggestions of how I think things should turn out, just in case He wants to know my preferences. But after I’d put forth several possibilities, I did what I always do and whispered, “Not my will, Lord, but Yours,” figuring that in the long run He knew best even if He turned down every petition I made. I knew that, disappointed or not, Etta Mae and I would fare well in His hands, although I didn’t see how anything could be better than the detailed plan that I’d laid before Him.
* * *
—
Monday morning, there was a hue and cry in the neighborhood. People were out and about along the sidewalks and two police cars were patrolling the rain-streaked streets. Lillian was glued to a window when I came down for breakfast and Sam had already left to join the search parties.
“It’s Mr. Horace,” Lillian said, looking around as I came in. “He’s gone somewhere an’ nobody know where.”
The phone rang as I passed it. Grabbing it up, I heard Mildred gasp, “Julia! May I send Penelope to you? Ida Lee and Doreen are out looking and the police need to talk to me. Oh, where is Grady when I need him!”
“Send her on,” I said. “I’ll meet her at the hedge.”
I shrugged on a coat, wrapped a scarf around my head, and dashed out the back door. Finding the gap in the boxwood hedge, I slipped through and saw the tiny child just leaving Mildred’s front porch. I waved to her, then waited to lead her back into our warm kitchen.
“You have two people here who need breakfast, Lillian,” I said as we entered. “Here, sweetie, let me take your coat. Sit down right here and we’ll warm up.”
Easily led, though looking unsure of why she was there, or perhaps even of who she was, the little girl kept looking around the kitchen, finally whispering, “Latisha?”
“Why, Honey,” Lillian said, “that chile’s in school. But they’s lots of things for you to play with till she gets back. Now, how you like your eggs?”
Not wanting to put the child through an interrogation, I nonetheless burned with questions. How long had Horace been gone? When had they noticed his absence? Where were they looking? And on and on, yet she looked as bewildered as I was feeling. In fact, she was still in her nightgown, so somebody had gotten her up and out before she’d known what was going on.
“Law, chile,” Lillian said, “we got to find you some clothes. I ’spect Latisha got something here for you to wear. It’ll swaller you, but better that than runnin’ ’round in your nightgown. Le’s go get ’em on, then come back down here and make us some cookies.”
Alicia or Penelope or Honey, one of the three, looked pleased at that prospect and immediately took Lillian’s hand and off they went.
That left me free to wonder what I should do—join the hunt, and if so, where? Sit and wait until Horace turned up? Bother Mildred with a phone call when her phone was probably ringing off the hook? Or were they keeping the phone free in case Horace called, as if he would remember the number?
I called her, and the phone was not already in use. She answered on the first ring.
“Mildred? It’s Julia, what can I do to help?”
“Oh, Julia,” she said, “you’re already doing it. Keeping Penelope occupied is one less problem on my hands, so thank you for that.”
“She’s no problem. Just let her stay as long as you need her to, but tell me—what happened? When did Horace leave?”
“We don’t know!” she cried, her voice breaking under the stress. “He just wasn’t in his bed this morning, and it was hardly messed up. He could’ve left at any time during the night. Nobody heard a thing, and you know how cold and wet it was all night long. I am just sick with worry. He could have pneumonia by now.”
“Surely they’ll find him soon. You have to stay strong, Mildred, and not make yourself sick. Why don’t you plan to have lunch here?”
“Thank you, but no. I’ve called Ida Lee to come back in and fix lunch for everybody. Julia, you wouldn’t believe the number of people who’re out beating the bushes, looking for Horace. The least I can do is provide a meal for them. I’m getting out extra plates now. There’ll be a crowd, you know.”
As I’ve said before, you can always count on Mildred to rise to any social occasion, and this one was no exception.
“That’s good of you,” I said, although if Sam were to go missing I wouldn’t be planning lunch for anybody. “Where all have you looked, Mildred? I mean, are you sure he got out of the house? Wouldn’t your security system have sounded?”
“I don’t know, Julia. I just don’t know anything except he wasn’t in his room and I called 9-1-1 and Ida Lee right away and people just started flooding in. They’ve figured how fast someone his age could walk and made coordinates to estimate how far he might have gotten. But what if somebody’s picked him up out on the interstate? He could be miles away or he could be lying somewhere in a ditch. I am about to pull my hair out.”
And she certainly sounded it, and understandably so. Panic edged each word she uttered. “Listen,” I said with some urgency, “you’ll feel better if you’re doing something besides sitting and waiting. I’m coming over and you and I are going to search the house and the grounds. I know, I know, it’s already been done, but it’ll give you something to do besides worrying yourself to death.”
Calling upstairs to Lillian that I was leaving Honey with her, I left for the Allens’ large house next door.
Chapter 25
Mildred was securely settled in a fauteuil moved from the main reception room to the middle of the foyer. Small tables covered with pape
rs, maps, empty cups, and phones surrounded the chair, making the area Search Central for Horace. One police officer with no stripes on his sleeve stood against the wall behind her, and I figured him for a figurehead to keep her occupied while the search was directed from elsewhere. People in town knew Mildred and what she expected.
“Where have you looked?” I asked, pulling a straight chair up close.
“Everywhere. He’s not here.”
“Well, think about it again,” I urged. “Ida Lee was storing things in the attic, wasn’t she, when you redid the room for Alicia, I mean, Penelope? Could he have climbed up there and gone to sleep? What about the garden house? And the pool house? The basement? If yours is like mine, it’s filled with places he could hide. Or the garage? You know how fixated he is on that.”
“I do know,” she said, “and it was the first place we thought of. But it’s locked tighter than Dick’s hatband and has been since he hid in there once before. They’ve looked everywhere, Julia. A highway alert will be going out within the hour, which should’ve already been done in my opinion, but better late than never, I guess.” Tears glittered in her eyes, and I was moved to pity. It’s a terrible thing to lose a husband.
“Well, listen,” I said, “it’s doing you no good just to sit here and wait. You know this house better than anyone, and you know Horace better, too. You know places to look that no one else would think of, and you’ll be better off doing something than just waiting around.”
“They think he’s out walking somewhere,” she said, reaching for a tissue. “That’s what they said, that dementia patients usually head for a highway, thinking they’re going home or something.”
“I don’t see how he could’ve gotten out. Weren’t the doors locked?”
“The front door wasn’t. I can’t believe we all slept with a door unlocked. Ida Lee is just devastated, but it was Doreen who forgot. Grady came by yesterday afternoon to see how we were doing although he still had a hacking cough, and Doreen saw him out. We think she forgot to lock up behind him, although she denies it. As of course she would.
“And by the way, Grady came in this morning when he heard Horace was missing, so he’s looking around the house again, too. He’s still half sick, but I blame all this on him. If he hadn’t gotten a cold, he’d have been here and so would Horace.” Mildred took a deep, shuddering breath, then went on. “So see, Julia, we’re double-checking and back-checking and everything else we can think of.”
“Well,” I said, stymied for any other suggestion or for a way to help. “Well . . .”
“Look who I found!” Grady Peeples voice, hoarse and rasping, rang out in triumph. Appearing in the foyer, his hand firmly on Horace’s arm, Grady led the lost sheep over to Mildred.
“Horace!” Mildred sprang to her feet, or rather she tried to but she was fitted so snugly into the chair that it came partially up with her. She shook it off and threw her arms around Horace. “Where have you been? Are you all right? Oh, my goodness, you are a mess!”
And he certainly was. Bleary-eyed, hair sticking out at all angles, and a dazed look on his face, Horace looked a good deal worse for the wear. Bedraggled and grease-stained, in fact, and far from the dapper dresser for which he was known.
“Where was he?” Mildred demanded.
Grady, clearly pleased with himself, said, “In the garage. Actually, asleep in the back seat of the Town Car.”
“How could they have missed him?” Mildred cried. “The garage was searched.”
“Maybe not,” Grady said, a trifle smugly. “He’d locked the door behind him, so they bypassed it, figgerin’ he couldn’t get in. But I broke a window and there he was.” Grady pulled out a key ring and dangled it in front of Mildred. “Had it in his pocket. Ida Lee said it’s s’posed to be in the kitchen pantry, but I guess he knew that.”
“Oh, Horace,” Mildred wailed, “how could you put me through this?” Then, leaning in close to him, she peered into his eyes as if she could see his brain working. Or not. “Do you know where you are?” she demanded.
He gave her a loopy grin and nodded. “Home.”
“Well, do you know who I am?”
“My wife, Jane. Jane Smith.”
Mildred let out a heartrending screech and collapsed into the chair again. “Jane Smith! Jane Smith?” Then, gathering herself, she straightened up and took control again. “Grady, take him upstairs and clean him up, if you will. Put him to bed if he’ll go. But don’t let him out. His wandering days are over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Grady said, turning Horace toward the stairs. “I don’t think I’m catching now. I’m about well.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said as if it really didn’t. Then, to the bemused police officer, she ordered, “Call off the search. The lost has been found.”
As they scurried off, she rang a bell for Ida Lee. “This mess has to be cleaned up,” she said as if speaking to herself. After another deep, shuddering breath, she waved the hovering Ida Lee away and nodded coolly at me. “Thank you for coming, Julia. We’ll be fine now. Send Penelope back whenever you want.”
I was being dismissed, but I was more than ready to leave. Still I ached for her and wanted to offer some comfort. “They say,” I said, “that the disease erases recent memories, but brings back old ones. He probably recalls a Jane Smith from school.”
“Probably so,” Mildred said, as she gazed up into the far corner of the foyer. “Attention, however, must be paid.”
* * *
—
Now what in the world did she mean by that? I didn’t know, but it sounded ominous. I hurried across the lawn toward my house, anxious to be out of the cold weather and away from the closed-off look on my friend’s face. One never knew what Mildred would do, mainly because she had the means to do whatever she wanted and she did not mind using those means.
I will tell you this, though, the rich are different from you and me, as somebody else has already noted. But it’s not the amount that makes the difference, it’s the willingness to use the power it gives.
“They’ve found him,” I announced to Lillian as I walked into the kitchen. “In the garage. He’d locked himself in the garage, and nobody but Grady thought to look inside.” I blew out my breath and looked around. “Where’s our little Honey?”
“She’s in there asleep on the sofa. They had her up ’fore she got her nap out.”
“Then let’s let her sleep. Better here than over there, anyway. I tell you, Lillian, I am quite shaken with all that’s going on.”
After recounting the events of the morning to her, I said, “It wouldn’t surprise me if Mildred decides to ship him off to a locked facility. And maybe that’s what he needs. I don’t know. It just seems that he’s gone downhill awfully fast, and I’m not convinced that he’s that bad off. I mean, if she had no way to care for him, I could see it. It would be terrible if it were just the two of them, and she had to watch him every minute. Some people have to do that, you know, but Mildred doesn’t.”
“Yes’m, I do know. You remember ole Miss Reenie Patterson that got so bad nobody could stand her? Mr. Tom took care of her for years ’cause he didn’t have nobody else.”
“That wasn’t the reason,” I said, adding a dash of cream to my coffee. “He did it because he didn’t want to spend the money to hire some help. I was in Velma’s having my hair done one day when he brought her in. Lillian, I’ll tell you, Reenie didn’t know where in the world she was. She screamed like a banshee when the girl wet her hair, and I saw with my own eyes when Tom walked over to the chair and pinched a plug out of her arm. She started crying like a baby. It was awful, but Tom had everybody convinced how loving he was to be taking care of her.”
“Law, I didn’t know that.”
“She got so bad, though, that he had to stop taking her to get her hair done. She flailed around so in the chair that one day she prac
tically knocked Pattie down, so Velma had to tell Tom that he couldn’t bring her in anymore.” I nibbled on a cookie and glanced at the hall door to be sure that Alicia hadn’t joined us. “She hated having to do that, but her other customers were getting skittish.”
Lillian shook her head in sympathy with Velma or Reenie or maybe with the other customers. “Did you hear ’bout that man down in Florida, I think it was. The one that shot his wife ’cause she got where he couldn’t handle her? Had to put her out of her misery, I think he said. Although it sounded more like it was his misery he was gettin’ out of.”
“Well,” I said, thinking that perhaps we’d talked too openly in case a child was listening, “thank goodness, Horace is nowhere near that. Nor is Mildred. She’ll do the right thing when she faces the fact that he’s not altogether responsible for who he remembers and who he doesn’t.”
“Yes’m, she a good-hearted lady, all right.”
“She is that,” I said, although I couldn’t help but wonder who in the world Jane Smith was.
Chapter 26
After Lillian walked Alicia home after lunch, I spent the afternoon wondering about that lonely little girl and her two half-crazed grandparents, each alone in their own worlds. And, as is often the case, having one thing to wonder about led to another. Not only was the question of Jane Smith’s identity playing around in my mind, so were the most recent actions of Horace Allen. I think we had all begun to assume that Horace no longer had sense enough to come in out of the rain. His activities of the previous night, however, were making me revisit that assumption.
First of all, I knew that there was a small cabinet high up in Mildred’s kitchen pantry where master keys to all the locked places in the house were kept. And I knew that the garage had rarely been locked when both Horace and Mildred, to say nothing of Ida Lee, had the run of the garage, going in and out to the cars for various errands. They only bothered to lock up when they were out of town for any length of time, so the garage key stayed on the hook.