Sandy laughed. Lately, only Sunnie could make him do that. "I can't pretend to imagine how your mind works, Sunnie. I don't think there's another one like it in the whole world. I want to know what to say at that hearing."
"You'll know because it'll come straight from your heart, and that's where anything that means anything at all always comes from. You love your parents and Flossie, and even Attila, and it shows, so don't worry about that. Save your worrying for Bart and Bernie. They must want that money in the worst way."
"I hope their ways don't get any worse than they already are," Sandy said.
The day before the hearing, Bentley took the ancient Daimler out of the garage and washed it. He rarely drove it anymore because everything they needed was delivered.
He brushed his chauffeur's uniform, which had hung unused in his closet for years, and polished the bill of the cap. He would be driving Sandy into the city, a place he could hardly remember.
The next morning Sandy, dressed in his best and looking very handsome, got into the front seat of the Daimler beside Bentley. They pulled solemnly out of the driveway as Sunnie stood on the broad front steps and waved good-bye until she could no longer see them.
It was a long and nerve-racking day for Sunnie. She spent her time moving from one bedside to another, holding hands with her patients, and talking to them. Louie, as if aware of her agitation, spent the whole day in the sickroom, too, migrating from bed to bed for a succession of naps.
"I know no hospital would permit a cat to sleep with the patients," Sunnie told him, "but if I had my own hospital, I'd allow it. There's a lot of things I'd do if I had my own hospital. I'd paint the walls bright colors, for one thing. I don't know why beige is so popular. If I were sick, I'd want to be cheered up, not bored silly. And I'd keep the rooms warm. I don't know why hospital rooms are always so cold. Those little cotton blankets they give you are never enough to keep you really warm and cozy. And I wouldn't hire anybody who didn't have a positive reverence for life and for people's feelings. When people are sick, they're
sick,
and they're entitled to be grouchy or whiny. They shouldn't have to try to be nice if they're in pain, and they shouldn't have to wait for half an hour for a bedpan or to have their beds straightened up. Honestly, you wouldn't believe some of the things I saw during my training. It made me wonder why some of those people were in nursing school at all."
Louie yawned and settled himself next to Flossie's feet.
Daylight was fading into early winter darkness when Sunnie and Louie finally heard the Daimler crunching over the gravel in the circular driveway. Sunnie stood in the hall at the top of the stairs where she could look into the sickroom and also down into the entry hall. As soon as she heard the door open, she called down, "What happened? What happened?"
Sandy looked up at her and, though she couldn't see his face in the shadows of the hall, the slump of his shoulders told her that he didn't have good news.
"What
is
it?" Sunnie asked, when Sandy got to the top of the stairs.
"I'm incompetent."
"What?"
"Not only did the judge declare Horatio incompetent to manage his affairs—I could have told him that—but he declared me incompetent, too. There were two whole tables full of Horatio's lawyers in the courtroom, including the distinguished Senior Partner, but none of them could change the fact that I don't know one thing about managing our financial affairs."
Sunnie grabbed his cold hands. "Does this mean Bart and Bernie get the money?"
"No. Not yet. Horatio and Mousey are alive, and so am I, so it's still ours. But I don't get control of it."
"Well, who does?"
"Can we sit down?" Sandy asked. "This has been a long and horrible day, and I'm exhausted."
"Of course." She kept hold of one of his hands as they walked into the sickroom. "Where's Bentley?"
"Putting the car away. He said he'd bring dinner up. We stopped at a deli on the way home and got some food. Have you ever been to a deli?"
"Sure. Lots of times. Oh, Sandy, I keep forgetting you don't know anything about real life."
"That's why I'm incompetent. That deli was the only good thing that happened all day. The smells! The people! Salamis hanging from the ceiling and a crock full of wonderful pickles and a loaf of bread in the shape of an alligator. There was an old lady wearing a T-shirt that said
NUKE THE WHALES
—oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about your whales—but I never saw anything like it. There was a man who looked just like the picture of Jesus in the Bible. He was sitting on the sidewalk outside the deli. I wanted to go talk to him, but Bentley wouldn't let me. What if he really
was
Jesus?"
"I'm pretty sure he wasn't," Sunnie said, settling Sandy into an armchair.
"The whole ride through the city was something. The noise, and all the cars and people and buildings. How does everybody know what to do and where to go? It looked so confusing and scary. And exciting, all at the same time. But I didn't see any jungle, like you said was there. I was lucky, I guess."
Bentley came into the sickroom straining under the weight of a loaded tray. Louie hopped out of Attila's dishpan, where he had been napping, and twined himself around Bentley's ankles. Sandy picked him up and struggled to hold him until Bentley put the tray down. Then he opened a can of sardines that occupied Louie while Bentley unwrapped huge, oily, pungent packages of sandwiches.
When they were finally all settled with their food, Sunnie asked, "Now will somebody please tell me what happened?"
Sandy looked at Bentley. "You tell her."
Bentley said, "The court appointed some of Horatio's lawyers as conservators of the estate. The situation will be reviewed annually, or any time something changes. Like if Horatio wakes up. Or Sandy learns to manage things. But at least Bart and Bernie won't get their hands on the money. Oh, I wish you could have seen their faces. They were so mad. They thought they were going to make it look like Sandy had tried to do his parents in, just the way we thought they would. But we were ready for them, thanks to you, Sunnie. You'd have to be an idiot not to see that Sandy is trying to save his parents, not get rid of them."
Sunnie licked olive oil off her fingers. "Well, that's not so bad, Sandy."
"Tell her the rest," Sandy said.
"What rest?" she asked. -
"The rest is, the court decided we can't keep Horatio, Mousey, and Flossie here. The judge said that for their own safety, they should be in a place where there's a doctor available. Nothing we could say would change the judge's mind. We have a week to move them." He looked glumly into his bottle of celery tonic. "Flossie and I have spent every night since we were married under the same roof. I can't imagine what I'll do without her."
"Where are you going to move them?" Sunnie asked.
"I don't know. We have to start looking for a place. Do you know of a good place, Sunnie? One close to Eclipse, so we can see them every day?"
"They gave us a book in nursing school that lists facilities like that. Let me get it." She went into Mousey's little office and came back with a thick blue book. She flipped the pages until she came to their county, and then began running her finger down the columns. "Nope, too far ... too far ... too crummy, I know that place ... too far ... hey! What's the name of the road Eclipse is on?"
"Old Country Road," Sandy said. "Why?"
"Well, there's a convalescent home located on Old Country Road. There're an M.D. and an R.N. in residence. It's not too big—in fact it's real small. Let me see ... it's got a swimming pool—not that our patients care—but it sounds nice, and it's ... Wow, it's expensive, but what do we care? Three hot meals, recreational activities, separate wing for isolation patients. Sounds terrific."
"What's the name of this place?" Sandy asked.
"Walnut Manor."
"Walnut Manor?" Bentley asked. "That's right next door. I thought it was a funny farm, not a convalescent hospital."
"It says here that they take 'the patient needing only minimal medical care. Our primary concern is the temporarily distressed patient.' What does that mean, I wonder? Plenty of times I've been temporarily distressed."
"Who cares what it means?" Bentley said. "It's perfect. Our sleepers certainly need only minimal care, and they'd be right next door. We could spend almost as much time with them as we do now."
"Don't you think we should visit, just to make sure it's as good as it sounds?" Sandy asked.
"I've been there," Bentley said. "A long time ago, just before Horatio bought this land. We wanted to be sure the patients weren't dangerous, living right next door to us. They certainly haven't been. In all the years we've lived here, we've only had one incident with a patient from there. This was when Sandy was still a toddler. I was out exercising the horses, before we got rid of them and got bicycles instead, and I was riding over by the wall. There was a kite stuck in the big walnut tree on our side of the wall, and the string went down on the other side. I heard this awful crying, so I rode right up to the wall and looked over. A man was sitting on the ground holding the kite string and bawling his head off. 'My kite, my kite,' he was crying in this little baby voice. 'I want my kite back.' And then suddenly he'd stop crying and say in a very grown-up voice, 'It's only a kite. We can get another one. Don't cry.' And then he'd start crying all over again. He looked up and saw me watching him, and he popped his thumb in his mouth. When I offered to help him get his kite back, he pulled out his thumb and said in his grown-up voice, 'Oh, could you? He'd appreciate it so much.' Then he stuck his thumb back in his mouth. I got the kite down and handed it over the wall, and he said, 'Thank you ever so much. How very kind of you. Say thank you, Boom-Boom.' Then he put his thumb back in and this sound sort of like 'thank you' came out around the thumb, and he took his kite and walked off."
"Sounds harmless enough," Sunnie said, "but I think we should go over there tomorrow. If it looks as good as it sounds, it should be perfect." Then she looked doleful. "I'll sure miss my patients. And this beautiful house. I was so lucky to have this for my first nursing assignment. I'll never forget any of you."
As Sandy helped Bentley carry the supper things downstairs he said, "Maybe ... maybe we could still keep a private duty nurse once we move Horatio and Mousey and Flossie and Attila. I mean, four more patients, that's a lot ... And Sunnie's such a wonderful nurse. And so interesting to talk to. Even Louie loves her."
Bentley looked at Sandy and remembered his own youth, when he was first courting Flossie. Living at Eclipse for so many years hadn't given him amnesia. He recalled what infatuation felt like, and he recognized it on Sandy's face.
In the morning, they drew straws to see who got to go to Walnut Manor and who stayed home with the patients. Sandy and Sunnie drew the long straws, so Bentley got a chemistry textbook and a thermos of coffee and settled himself in the overstuffed chair in the sickroom. Sunnie changed out of her uniform while Sandy waited in the front hall.
"Hurry, Sunnie!" he called up the stairs.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she said, taking one last look at her patients. She scratched Louie behind the ears, waved to Bentley, and finished fastening the belt on her gray wool dress as she ran down the stairs.
"Oh," he said. "You look so different in clothes." He blushed. "I mean, out of your uniform. No, not like that. I mean, that's a pretty dress."
Sunnie laughed. "I know what you mean. Thank you. Shall we go?"
They put on their coats and gloves and went down the wide front steps to the driveway, where two bicycles waited. They rode through the gates of Eclipse, and Sunnie waited while. Sandy locked them again. October chill pinked their cheeks as they pedaled the mile up Old Country Road to Walnut Manor.
Stately, leafless trees lined the curving drive to Walnut Manor. They parked their bicycles at the foot of the steps leading to the broad porch of the main building. Sunnie said, "You'd better let me do the talking. I know more about this than you do."
"Okay," Sandy said, gawking at the big building. It was handsome in an unkempt way, without the grace and tidiness of Eclipse. "It needs painting."
"Winter's the wrong time to paint," Sunnie said. "You do that in the spring or the summer, when the weather's better."
"We paint at Eclipse when things need painting," Sandy told her. He pointed up to the third floor. "There's a broken window up there."
"I'm sure they'll get around to fixing it," Sunnie said. "You mustn't let your reluctance to move our sleepers prejudice you against a good place. Give it a chance, Sandy."
"You're right," he said contritely. "I'll try."
"That's the right attitude," she said, and patted his arm. She started up the steps, while he stood transfixed by the way his arm tingled where she had touched him.
"Come
on
," Sunnie said over her shoulder.
Sandy hurried up the steps and through the heavy door into the main hall.
Inside it was absolutely silent. The hardwood floors gleamed softly, and the aroma of lemon oil and coffee and cigarette smoke floated in the air. There were two closed doors on either side of the hall, and beyond them the hall opened into a big square area with a staircase rising from it on the left. Straight across the square area a set of double doors opened into a dining room with windows all across the back looking out to the pool. Opposite the staircase was another set of double doors, which were closed.
Sandy looked at Sunnie. "Nice and quiet," he whispered encouragingly.
Sunnie nodded and went to the door labeled
OFFICE.
She opened it, peered in, and motioned for Sandy to follow. Behind a counter was a typewriter on a desk and another closed door. From behind the door came the muffled sounds of people talking. Only an occasional word was intelligible. They heard "bacon" and "laundry"- and something that sounded like "cat molester."