Miss Julia Renews Her Vows (25 page)

Pursuant to that intention, I said, “Francie, I hope Miss Wiggins has told you that she’s already booked for this weekend and for some time to come. Hazel Marie and her new husband will be back, and Hazel Marie is suffering through a high-risk condition. She’ll need constant nursing care, and Miss Wiggins has promised to be there for her. They’re longtime friends, you know.”

“Who’s Hazel Marie?”

“Oh, I forgot that you weren’t here through all my trials and tribulations. Well, Hazel Marie is a dear friend of mine, and she and her son have been living with me for some time now.”

Francie’s eyes glinted with a little interest in something outside of herself. “That’s the one that Wesley Lloyd Springer kept all those years, isn’t it? I always wondered how you put up with it.”

Stung, I shot back, “I didn’t know about it, that’s how I put up with it. But it seems that you knew, so why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh,” Francie said, with an airy titter, as if the most hurtful event of my life were of no importance. “I don’t interfere in other people’s business. I assumed you knew. Everybody else did. But I don’t understand why you’d be so concerned about the welfare of a tramp like that.”

I could feel the blood pounding in my head, so enraged that I could’ve taken up that walking cane and whacked her across the head. Holding myself in, I managed to say, “First off, she is not a tramp, and second off, you don’t need to understand. At least Hazel Marie hasn’t had serial husbands like somebody I could name.”

“Oh, Julia,” Francie said, her face screwing up to cry, but not quite managing it. “How could you throw that in my face? I have been grieving for ten years, even longer, and you don’t know what it’s like to lose a husband.”

“Well, I certainly do. I lost one myself.” Of course, losing Wesley Lloyd had not exactly thrown me into paroxysms of grief. Nor, as far as I could tell, had Francie suffered excessively from her series of losses. Or if she had, she’d certainly found solace quickly enough.

“But,” I said, bringing my temper under control, “that’s neither here nor there. The thing of it is, Miss Wiggins has promised to work for us, and because I haven’t been well myself and, in fact, got out of my sickbed to visit you at the hospital, I can’t wait for the weekend. I need her to come on today. And, of course, there’s no telling when, or if, she’ll be able to come back to you.” Right then, I decided that I’d better delay telling Sam anything. If Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens extended their honeymoon, I would have to prepare myself for another sickly spell this weekend in order to keep Etta Mae at least through Monday evening, when the second enriching session would be held.

“Well, I don’t know how I’ll get along without her,” Francie whined. “I’m not well, Julia, and I need her more than you do. You’ve got Lillian, so you can manage perfectly well.”

“But,” I pointed out, “you have Evelyn, so it’s not as if you’d be alone. And there’s all this assisted-living help you could have if you’d just call on them. That’s what this retirement place is for, isn’t it?”

By this time, Francie was squeezing out a few tears and searching the pockets of her voluminous robe for Kleenex. “That’s what they say,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, “but they don’t suit me. I hope you’ll pray about this, Julia, and find it in your heart to help a poor, lonely woman who can hardly get from one place to the other.”

“I will pray about it, Francie, but I can tell you right now that Miss Wiggins will honor her commitment to me and to Hazel Marie. She wouldn’t be worth having if she didn’t, and I’d be surprised if you’d still want her. So under these circumstances, you’ll have to make other arrangements. And no amount of prayer is going to change my mind.”

“Well!” Francie said, discarding her Kleenex on the floor and clenching the chair arms with both hands. “I’ve just never known you to be so snippy and uncaring. I can’t believe you, Julia. I thought you were a more considerate person than this. Call Etta Mae in here and we’ll just see. Get her in here right now.”

My temper flaring again at being given orders, I rose nonetheless and walked to the door leading to the kitchen. Etta Mae was standing by the counter, preparing a luncheon tray. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the stooped back of another woman, short and thin, with her head swathed in a turban of some kind—one of Francie’s castoffs, from the look of it. She was clad in a loose dress of nondescript color.

Evelyn, I assumed, but because she didn’t turn from whatever she was doing, I stood at the door and gestured to Etta Mae. “Mrs. Delacorte wants you.”

As Etta Mae came toward me, I whispered, “Follow my lead. I’m getting you out of here.”

Her eyes widened, then they darted over my shoulder as we heard another of Francie’s peremptory commands to come right there. We crossed the room together and stood before the queen.

“Etta Mae,” Francie said, glaring at her, “I hear that you’ve taken another job, and that you’re leaving me high and dry. I guess you know that I’ll have to dock your pay for noncompliance if you leave before I’m ready for you to go.”

Etta Mae’s face went white. “Well, uh, no ma’am. I—”

“Hazel Marie will be home any time now,” I quickly spoke over her. “And you promised to take care of her, remember? You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes’m, I did, and I want to. I just didn’t know if she’d still need me.”

“She’ll need you, believe me. I’d like you to come on now and get things ready for her. Francie,” I went on, turning to her, “Hazel Marie is carrying twins, and she’s having a bad time of it. She needs experienced help, which neither Lillian nor I can give her. I hope you’ll reconsider your threat, because . . .” I had to stop as a white haze of anger descended on me. “Because if you don’t pay Etta Mae what you owe her, she’ll go directly to her attorney of record and sue you up one side and down the other. Won’t you, Etta Mae?”

“Yes’m, I guess.” Etta Mae was trembling beside me. She did not like confrontations, but then neither did I. But sometimes you have to stand up for what is right, and that’s exactly what I was doing.

Unaccustomed as she was to not getting her way, Francie really let the tears begin to flow. “You’re ganging up on me, both of you, threatening me with lawsuits and abandonment. I’ll pay you, Etta Mae, you know I will. But I just got home from the hospital, and I’ve suffered great physical and mental trauma, and I need you. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just stay with me.”

Obviously affected by Francie’s pitiful plea, Etta Mae looked beseechingly at me, then said, “I can probably stay until Hazel Marie gets home, but really, Mrs. Delacorte, I promised my friend to be there for her.”

“Well,” Francie said, dabbing at her eyes, “I guess I’ll have to be grateful for that. But you think about it, and if you decide to stay with me, you won’t regret it. Julia, why don’t you see if you can find somebody else for your friend? At least she has a husband, so she’s not alone and helpless like I am.”

I raised my eyes to heaven because Francie Pitts Delacorte was the least helpless person I knew. She knew how to play upon tender hearts, and Etta Mae Wiggins had one of the tenderest. I could see the sympathy wash over Etta Mae’s face, and I knew how deeply she felt obligated to her patients. All very commendable, except for the fact that Francie was taking advantage of those very qualities.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t immune to Francie’s pleas, either. “All right,” I said, “let’s leave it at this. Etta Mae, if you insist on staying, then so be it. But when Hazel Marie gets home, we’re going to hold you to your promise and expect you right away. And Francie, you’ll have to do the best you can. I’m sorry about that, but you do have access to help right here at Mountain Villas. Well,” I went on, turning away, “I must be going. I hope you continue to feel better. Call me if you need anything.”

That last was said out of habit and good manners, not because I meant it. “Etta Mae,” I said, walking away before Francie could get in the last word, “walk me to the door, if you don’t mind.”

With a nervous glance at Francie, who was staring sullenly at us, Etta Mae followed me out of the room and down the hall to the front door.

“Now listen,” I said, as Etta Mae reached around me to open the door, “come by my house as soon as you get off. We need to talk about this. And one more thing, do not, I repeat, do not let yourself be out of Francie or Evelyn’s sight for even a minute. I don’t trust Francie Pitts as far as I can throw her, and she could very well accuse you of something else if you’re off by yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m already staying close to either her or Evelyn. And Miss Julia, you know I wouldn’t drop Hazel Marie for anything. Mrs. Delacorte didn’t tell you, but she already knew I’d have to leave when Hazel Marie gets home, because I told her when she called me.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “That woman! Just be careful, Etta Mae. There’s no telling what she might do if she doesn’t get her way. Why, I think she’d feel perfectly justified to get you in trouble again just to punish you.”

“You think?” A deeply worried look creased Etta Mae’s face, as she looked down the hall toward the sunroom.

“Yes, and that’s why I want you out of here as soon as possible. You’re walking a thin line with Lieutenant Peavey already, although Francie’s rehiring you ought to make him reconsider a few things. But before I go, where’s Francie’s bedroom? Do we have time for me to take a quick look?”

“It’s right there behind you.” Etta Mae pointed to the first door on the right.

I tiptoed over, pushed the door open a little wider and peeked in. It was a front room, the windows looking out over the yard. In the middle stood a stately canopied bed covered in a floral print both above and below. The same floral fabric draped the windows with side panels and elaborately pleated valances. Tables with large porcelain lamps on them flanked the bed, and a dressing table covered with bottles and flasks and jars stood across the room. A deep pile carpet covered the floor.

“Hurry, Miss Julia,” Etta Mae whispered. “She pretends she can’t get around, but she can.”

“I’m through.” I turned back to the front door and started out. “I just wanted to see the crime scene. And I wanted to meet Evelyn, too. Where’d she get to?”

“Etta Mae!”
Francie’s commanding voice pierced the entire house. “What’re you doing? Come in here, I need you.”

“I got to go,” Etta Mae said, worriedly looking over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you at my house as soon as you get off,” I said, and left before more trouble descended on either of us.

Backing the car off the curb where I’d left it, I drove carefully out of the grounds of Mountain Villas, coming to a stop beside the gatehouse at the exit.

Beckoning to the elderly guard to approach my window, I said, “Nice day, isn’t it? I’m wondering, though, if you were on duty last Thursday.”

“Well, let me see,” he said, his grizzled face screwed up with thought. “I ’spect I was, because I work five days a week an’ ain’t had a sick day yet.”

“Do you keep a record of who comes and goes?”

He grinned, revealing a few places that needed dental help. “No’m, too many in and out for that. The res’dents wouldn’t stand being stopped ev’ry time.” Then the light dawned on him. “Oh, you’re talkin’ ’bout that day when that lady got hurt. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout that. I already been asked by the cops, an’ I didn’t see nobody that ought not to of been here.”

“Thank you, but I hope you’ll keep your eye out for strange people. There’s no telling who could slip in here and do a great deal of harm.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I hear tell they already know who done it. That visitin’ nurse is who they aimin’ to catch red handed.”

I stared at him, stupefied at what he’d said. And suddenly I had a different view of Francie’s reason for rehiring that particular visiting nurse. Far from being an advantage to Etta Mae in Lieutenant Peavey’s eyes, it could be a setup to trap her. I thanked the gatekeeper again and went on my way, so strung out with the dire possibilities that I could hardly wait to get home where I could do something about them. Would Lieutenant Peavey be that underhanded? Had he asked Francie to rehire Etta Mae just to catch her in the act?

I was gasping for breath as I drove toward home, so anxious was I at the thought of the lieutenant and Francie Pitts in cahoots to railroad Etta Mae on another trumped-up charge.

I thought of stopping at Binkie’s office and enlisting her help, but that would’ve taken too much time. Instead I went straight home, hurried inside and picked up the telephone without a word of greeting to Lillian, who turned to watch me as I sailed past.

She started to say something, but I held up my hand as I dialed Etta Mae’s cell phone number.

“Etta Mae?” I said as soon as she answered. “I just got home, and you won’t believe this, but Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens are sitting here at the table. They’re already home.”