Miss Julia Knows a Thing or Two

by Ann B. Ross

  “Yes, good, that’s fine, Lillian,” I said, gratefully sitting down. “And I need to run back over and get her some more clothes. We just grabbed a few things last night, but I’m thinking we may have her for several days. And it may be that Ida Lee has heard something by now.”

  She hadn’t, for as soon as Lillian left the kitchen I got up and called Ida Lee. She’d heard nothing from the hospital or from Dr. Hargrove, Mildred’s primary physician.

  “But, Miss Julia,” Ida Lee said, worriedly, “I may not hear anything. You know how they are about giving out information on patients. The patient has to give permission as to whom to give information, and as far as I know, Mrs. Allen has only given Mr. Allen’s name. And, well, you know that he won’t even know to ask.” Then she hurriedly added, “I don’t mean to pass judgment on his condition, but I don’t quite know what to do.”

  “I don’t either, Ida Lee,” I said. “But if Mildred’s condition is critical, Tonya should be notified or maybe Mildred’s lawyers in Atlanta. They may have her Medical Power of Attorney in their files.” I paused to consider that. “On the other hand, we don’t want to go off half-cocked and upset everybody when she could well be on her way to recovery by now.”

  “It didn’t seem that way last night,” Ida Lee said, expressing for the first time I’d known her some hesitation about how to proceed. “I thought she was dying and all I knew to do was call 9-1-1.”

  “You did exactly the right thing. Mildred was fortunate to have had you with her, and in all likelihood, you saved her life.” It never hurts to give praise where praise is due, and if anybody deserved it, Ida Lee did.

  Chapter 30

  The morning was taken up with the walk back over to Mildred’s house for Penelope’s clothes, toothbrush, and other needful things, as well as with constant worry about Mildred herself. I kept trying to decide if it would be intrusive of me to call Dr. Bob Hargrove and try to wheedle some information from him. And amidst all of that, I tried my hand at entertaining a silent little girl by reading aloud some stories, admiring a picture she’d colored, and serving a tea party at a table too low for my knees.

  So it came as a jolt of reality when a phone call from Etta Mae brought me back to the business deal in which we were so heavily involved.

  “Miss Julia,” Etta Mae said against a backdrop of road noise, “I’m in my car on the way to a patient’s house, but I had to tell you that Lurline got our Offer to Purchase, and she’s going up one side and down the other. She’s thrilled to have somebody actually ready to buy, but she’s outraged at what they want to buy it for.”

  “Did she talk to you about it?”

  “Oh, no’m, she wouldn’t do that unless it was something to brag about. Which I guess our offer wasn’t. I just heard her talking on the phone to her realtor when I was restocking my car this morning—you know, with patient supplies like Depends and mattress pads and the like. You wouldn’t believe how much of that stuff we use. Anyway,” Etta Mae went on after blowing out a breath, “I guess she’s not going to accept our offer.”

  “We really didn’t expect her to,” I said, reminding her of our strategy. “This is just the starting point. So now we wait to see how she’ll respond.”

  “I think I know how she’ll respond,” Etta Mae said in a dejected tone. “I couldn’t hear everything she said—she was in her office and I was going in and out of the stockroom—but I heard her mention Ernest Sitton several times.” Etta Mae emitted a tiny moan. “He’s going to buy it, isn’t he?”

  “Hold on. Let me think a minute.” After a second or two of wondering if I dared, I decided that I did. “Etta Mae, how close are you to the other women who work there?”

  “Pretty close. We all like each other and help each other out when anybody needs it.”

  “Well, I mean between you and Lurline, which one would they prefer? Which one would they support if they had to make a choice?”

  “Gosh, Miss Julia, I don’t know. I think they might like me better, because they all say they like it when Lurline takes off and leaves me in charge. They say conditions are better when she’s not around, whatever that means. But of course it’s Lurline who signs their checks and they like that. Why?”

  “I’m wondering,” I said, somewhat hesitantly because I’d not had time to think it through, “what Mr. Sitton would do if word got around that those ladies might quit if somebody they don’t know takes over. And it’s possible that they would,” I quickly added, “because they might not like working for an outsider who wasn’t promoted from within and who might change their schedules and pay scales and everything else. Lurline has already told him that her best employee isn’t capable of stepping up, remember? What would he do if he had no employees at all? You could also mention to one or two of the ladies that you’d been considered, then rejected as not being good enough, and, because of that, you’re thinking of quitting and moving to Charlotte for a better job. You mentioned that possibility to me one time, so it’s not too far from the truth.”

  After a minute of silence, I went on. “I guess what I’m asking is this: Would they support you or Lurline? I mean, if they knew what she’d done to you—which affects them, too—would they threaten to quit in protest?”

  “They might feel like it,” Etta Mae said, “and they might mumble about it, but getting a check every week is more important than protesting.”

  “A few mumbles are all we’d need,” I said. “That might be just enough to put Mr. Sitton off investing in a business with unhappy employees. It’s something to think about, anyway.”

  I heard a lot more road noise as Etta Mae took her time considering my suggestion.

  Then she said, “I don’t know, Miss Julia. I’m not real good with doing sneaky things. I’d probably mess it up.”

  “That’s because you’re an open, honest person and unaccustomed to deceit of any kind. So just forget it. It wasn’t that good an idea and probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. But keep it in mind, just in case, because employees do get unsettled when there’re changes at the top.”

  “Okay, I can do that, because I know more than they do, and I’m already pretty unsettled.”

  * * *

  —

  Mentally wringing my hands and physically pacing the living room floor, I tried to conjure up something else to keep Ernest Sitton from starting a bidding war. If that happened, I wouldn’t put it past Lurline Corn to tell him every offer we made so he could top it by a few dollars.

  With that dire possibility looming, I made myself sit down and calmly reconsider our strategy. What if, I thought, I were to go see Mr. Sitton and explain to him that I was trying to do a good turn for a deserving person—would he be sympathetic enough to drop out of the bidding?

  No, because he was a businessman and buying The Handy Home Helpers was a good business move. Why else was I trying to buy it?

  Mr. Sitton wouldn’t care who I was trying to help, except if he knew it was someone already working for Lurline, he’d wonder why she hadn’t been recommended to him. Should I tell him? With a word or two, I could confirm Etta Mae’s credentials and lock in the managerial position for her. And, I reminded myself, lock her into being an employee for the rest of her life. Well, of course that’s what most working people were, anyway, so what was so bad about that? Nothing, unless you had one opportunity to own a business, and you, or rather I, let it slip away.

  I called Etta Mae, but got her voice mail. Knowing that she was working with some bedridden patient, I very firmly said, “Etta Mae, call Mr. Blair as soon as you can and see if Lurline has made a counteroffer. If she has, let me know right away. I’m ready to up our offer.”

  I had made up my mind not to go down without a fight. Ernest Sitton might be rolling in money, but that didn’t mean he was eager to part with it. Most likely he was not, which was the reason he had so much of it in the first place.

 
; And, I thought, he might be unpleasantly surprised to learn that an offer had been submitted. Up to this point, he’d had no idea that anybody else was interested in The Handy Home Helpers. Our offer, even as low as it was, coupled with his lack of a manager, might be just enough to put him off completely—a result devoutly to be wished.

  Just as I was heading for the kitchen to check on Penelope, the phone rang. Thinking Etta Mae was returning my call, I was momentarily confused to hear Ida Lee’s voice.

  “Mrs. Murdoch,” she said, “someone from the hospital just called. She wouldn’t tell me anything about Mrs. Allen’s condition, just that she wants me to send some gowns and personal things up to her room. I’m hoping that means she’s much better—not wanting to wear a hospital gown, that is.”

  “I hope so, too. In fact, I’d say that’s very good news. So if you’ll pack what she needs, I’ll take them to the hospital. Unless, of course, you’d rather go yourself.”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t think so. I think you might be able to learn more than I would. About her condition, I mean. So if you don’t mind going, I’ll come get Penelope.”

  “No, please don’t do that. She seems quite content here, especially with Lillian. And Latisha will be out of school in a little while.” And to change the subject since even I would dread going back to rattle around alone in that huge house, I said, “Have you thought of calling Tonya? Do you think one of us should?”

  “No, ma’am, not unless something dreadful happens. Mrs. Allen wouldn’t want me to overstep like that.”

  “I understand,” I said, but didn’t. “I’ll ask when I take her things to her. If you’ll have everything ready, I’ll be by to pick them up in about thirty minutes.”

  Hating to leave with Etta Mae’s phone call pending, yet eager to learn how Mildred was faring, I hung up and turned to go to the kitchen. Lillian met me in the hall.

  “Miss Julia,” she said, frowning, “I’m worriet about that baby girl. She’s not said one word all day long. That’s not the way a little girl s’posed to act, ’specially since Latisha, she talks from sunup ’til sundown.”

  “I noticed that, too, Lillian, but I thought it was because I was talking so much to her. Trying to keep her distracted, you know. Where is she now?”

  “Takin’ a nap in the lib’ry. I didn’t want her to be upstairs by herself, so I put her on the sofa. But Latisha’ll be here in about an hour, so she’ll be up then.”

  “That’s good,” I said, relieved that Latisha would take over the entertainment chores. I was far from knowledgeable in the range of interests of a seven- or eight-year-old. “Ida Lee is packing some things that Mildred wants, so I’m taking them to the hospital for her. I’m hoping to find out just what happened last night and what the prognosis is.”

  “And if you get a chance,” Lillian said, “find out if Mrs. Allen’s gonna get better, ’cause that little girl don’t know what to think, an’ it seem to me she could use some good news for a change.”

  Chapter 31

  A brisk wind with gusts up to twenty miles an hour, according to the latest weather report, lashed at me as I walked up to Mildred’s house. What had I been thinking, I thought, not to have driven the car around? But assuming that would’ve been foolish just to pick up a few silk gowns in a tote bag, I had braved the weather. Ida Lee must’ve been watching out for she opened the door as I walked onto the porch.

  “I have everything ready,” she said, pointing to a Louis Vuitton suitcase of considerable size, a matching carry-on, plus a cosmetic case, also matching. “But, Miss Julia, you can’t carry all this. Why don’t I ask Mr. Peeples to go with you?”

  I thought for a minute or two, knowing full well that I was not about to trudge around the hospital lugging enough luggage for a two-week cruise.

  “That might be the simplest,” I said. “Sam’s downtown at some meeting and Lloyd’s still in school. But what about Mr. Horace? Will he be all right while Grady is gone? Although,” I quickly added, “I don’t plan to be gone long. Mildred may not be allowed to have visitors yet.”

  Ida Lee frowned, then her face lit up. “Mr. Horace could go, too. Mr. Peeples was planning to take him for a drive this afternoon anyway, so a trip to the hospital would serve the same purpose.”

  I mentally rolled my eyes, but it seemed that I was stuck with delivering Mildred’s luggage as well as providing an outing for Mildred’s husband. That’s the problem with offering to help. You’re often taken up on it.

  But I plodded back to my house, got in the car, drove up Mildred’s driveway, parked by the porch, and waited while Ida Lee and Grady Peeples loaded suitcases in the trunk, then loaded Horace in the back seat.

  I spoke to Horace, asking how he was and being my usual mannerly self.

  To my befuddlement, he replied, “How very nice to meet you, madam. I hope you don’t mind driving, but my car is parked for the time being and I’m having to depend on the kindness of strangers.”

  Since he had known me for twenty years, I hardly knew how to respond, so I mumbled, “Not a problem. I’m happy to do it,” and was thankful when Grady crawled into the back seat with him.

  When we got to the hospital, there was another round of discussion about who would deliver the luggage to the second floor—Grady and Horace while I waited in the car, or Grady alone while I kept watch on Horace, or all three of us.

  “You go, Grady,” I said, making the decision. “Horace and I will wait here.”

  “Don’t you think she’ll want to see him?” Grady asked. “I could take the suitcases and you could hold onto him.”

  Since holding onto Horace was not a pleasing prospect, I demurred. “I’m thinking she’s in no condition for visitors,” I said, also thinking that this was turning into a three-ring circus or a Who’s on First situation. “At least for the three of us trouping in at one time. If she wants to see him, come back down and get him.”

  Grady finally left, loaded down with Mildred’s luggage, leaving me with Horace, who sat behind me in the back seat. Have you ever had a conversation with someone in another world? It isn’t easy, especially when that someone keeps reaching for the door handle. I could just see me chasing Horace all around the hospital parking lot, so I locked the doors and tried to distract him by saying the first thing that came to mind.

  “Horace, who is Jane Smith?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I don’t know her, either.” Then I quickly went on to the usual topic of conversation when you can’t think of anything else. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? A little cold and windy, but at least the sun is shining.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Horace asked, “How’re your children? Are they all working?” And I knew that he, too, in his polite, but spacey, way was searching for a topic.

  “Um, yes, they’re all fine,” I said, loath to explain what he should have known, i.e., I had no children. “Grady Peeples is a good friend to have, isn’t he?”

  “Who?”

  Well, that didn’t work, so I tried something else. “It’s getting close to dinnertime. What would you like to eat tonight?”

  “The food’s good where I’m staying,” he said. “I like it there. That’s why I come back every year.”

  To my profound relief, Grady opened the door and got in beside Horace. “You were right, Mrs. Murdoch,” he said. “No visitors, so I left everything with the nurses. They said they were fixing to move her to a private room anyway.”

  “Oh, my word, she’s been on a ward?” I could just picture Mildred sharing a room with two or three other patients and the uproar that would engender.

  “No’m,” Grady said. “ICU.”

  “She’s been in intensive care? Oh, goodness, that’s worse than a ward, but I guess we should’ve expected it.”

  “Well, they’re moving her to a private room so that’s better than
either one.”

  “Did you ask how she’s doing?”

  “Yes’m, but the nurse said she couldn’t give out that information, though you’d think she could’ve said something one way or the other.”

  “Well, that’s the way they are,” I said, quickly turning the ignition in my eagerness to get home to learn what Lurline had thought of our offer. “It’s a legal thing, I think.”

  “Pro’bly,” he said, then went on. “Why don’t we ride downtown and give Horace a chance to look around? He’d like that. Or we could drive up to Jump Off and walk him around so he can view the scenery. I like to give him lots of things to do, different things to think about, you know. And it’s nice for him to have company and be out and around for a while.”

  “That’s all well and good,” I said, turning onto the most direct route home, “and you’re to be commended for the care you take of him. But I have obligations at home, and that’s where we’re going.”

  I couldn’t blame Grady for wanting a diversion from the constant company of one with whom conversation was impossible, but I had a real estate venture on the front burner and I’d had enough of Horace’s company.

  But Horace spoke up at that moment. “My car’s parked around here somewhere. Just let me out when you come to it.”

  “No,” Grady said in a humoring way, “it’s in the garage at home, remember? You put it there the last time you drove it, and it’s still right where it belongs.”

  “It is?” Horace asked. Then he sighed. “Well, I guess I did if you say so, but I sure don’t remember it. My memory isn’t so good these days.”

  “Mine, either, Horace,” I said, wanting to make him feel better. “I think it’s just part of growing old, don’t you?” But I thought to myself that I’d hate to get so old that I couldn’t remember where I’d left my car.

  Nothing else was said as I drove directly to the Allen house. As I parked at the front, Grady opened his door and came around to lend a hand to Horace, who was noticeably unsteady on his feet.