Miss Julia To The Rescue Part 19

"Oh, my goodness." And almost put my head on the table in despair. "Well," I went on, straightening up, "I'll just climb over stuff till I reach the bed."

"Maybe you an' Lloyd better stay with Miss Hazel Marie. Least, till you can walk around in here. Look to me like if we ever go out the door, we won't never get back in."

"Yes, and I thought I could have it all done by the time Sam got back. That shows how little foresight I had, doesn't it?" I stirred cream in my coffee, then tried a sip. "I'll just make do here, at least until Sheriff McAfee leaves town. It seems the better part of discretion is for me to stay out of his sight, so I won't be going to Hazel Marie's."

We looked at each other as an awful wrenching sound split the air. Then what sounded like sledge hammer blows followed it.

"Sound like they tearin' down the house," Lillian said.

"No, just demolis.h.i.+ng the closets. At least I hope that's all they're doing." I went over to the coffeepot to refill my cup. "You want a refill?"

"Yes'm, I guess another cup won't hurt. But I don't feel like cookin' or eatin' with what all's goin' on. They's some m.u.f.fins in the freezer I can put in the oven. You think that do you?"

"I'm not that hungry, either, so m.u.f.fins will be fine. Lillian," I went on as she opened the freezer, "did you get a good look at Tucker Caldwell?"

She glanced at me. "You mean that prissy little man tellin' everybody what to do? I seen him but I didn't look too hard."

"I didn't, either, but I kept trying to because I'm wondering how close he is to that Whitman woman. I know he's in contact with her, because he's designing some new building she wants. But something's going on with him. When I first met him, he was as professional looking as a man of stunted growth can look-in fact, almost too much so. Overcompensating, probably. But the next time I saw him, he had an earring stuck in his ear and, believe me, that woman is big on earrings."

"Lots of men do that these days. It don't have to mean anything I know of." She put four m.u.f.fins in the oven, then came back to the table with b.u.t.ter and jelly.

"I know, but it seems unlike him. Or unlike the little I know about him. Anyway, if he shows up with a tattoo or another earring or two, I'll know that woman has her claws in him."

"Nothin' you can do about it, if she do. A grown man ought to know what he doin'."

"But, Lillian, that's just the thing. I'm not worried about him-he's c.o.c.ky enough to take care of himself. It's Adam I'm concerned about. And, yes, I know he's a grown man, too, but he's an innocent and he doesn't have a smidgen of worldly knowledge. It's a fact that something's bothering him, and I think Agnes Whitman is trying to wheedle him into that church of hers. Lillian," I said, leaning over the table to put my hand on her arm, "I think his faith is being tested."

"That happen to all of us, one time or another," she said, nodding judiciously. "They's not much anybody can do about it, neither."

"I know, but I feel protective of him. If Agnes can sway a conceited little man like Tucker Caldwell, she could eat somebody like Adam alive." I stopped and looked around as a crash of lumber resounded from the future library. "I hope they know what they're doing. Are those m.u.f.fins ready yet?"

They were, and while we ate, I continued to mull over the problem with Adam. I'd noticed how he'd hurried up the stairs as soon as he saw Tucker, neither speaking to him nor acknowledging him in any way. And of course they knew each other, having worked together in the past and, apparently, still doing so at the Whitman estate, so it was all the more strange that Adam had made the effort to avoid him.

And later in the morning when I'd walked upstairs to see how Adam and Josh were doing and to offer some refreshments, the door to Hazel Marie's bedroom had been closed. That probably hadn't meant anything-just an attempt to keep the noise level down so they could hear the Gospel music on their radio.

But it had meant something when after greeting me from the top of his ladder, Adam had asked, "Everybody about cleared out downstairs?"

"Oh, no, not everybody. The brickmasons are working outside and the inside crew is, well, I don't know what they're doing-I'm afraid to look. Getting ready to open the wall for the fireplace, I guess." Then, realizing that Adam's question might have had a more specific meaning, I said, "Tucker Caldwell's back at his office, working on specifications. He said he'd be back at quitting time to see how far the crews had gotten."

Adam nodded as if he'd received the answer he wanted. "We'll be through with the first coat about midafternoon. We'll let it dry overnight, then be back in the morning to put on the final coat."

"Thank you, Adam. And you, too, Josh." Josh looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor painting the baseboards and smiled bashfully at me. "I know you were supposed to be working somewhere else, so I doubly appreciate your getting this done for me."

Adam dipped his brush into the paint can, then glanced down at me. "Just as soon put off that other work, but when a man gives his word, he has to hold to it."

I agreed and left, thinking that he'd just told me that he was not all that eager to be working for Agnes Whitman again.

Chapter 38.

"Miss Julia," Lillian said as I entered the kitchen the next morning and closed the door behind me, "I know you thinkin' 'bout asting that sheriff to dinner, but you might not ought to now. They's a king-size mattress in the dining room, so n.o.body gonna be able to get to the table."

"What a lovely thought, Lillian! It's the perfect excuse for not extending hospitality, which I hadn't wanted to do in the first place." I rubbed my hands together, pleased to discover this unexpected benefit of remodeling. "In fact, I'd been wondering why on earth Tucker would start a job on a Thursday, only to leave the house in a mess over the weekend, but now I see it as a blessing in disguise. If I work it right, I might not have to see Sheriff McAfee at all."

"Uh-huh, 'less he want to see you."

"True, but I'm hoping for the best. Oh, did I tell you that he called Etta Mae for a date? He's taking her out to eat and to a dance tonight, then interviewing Mr. Pickens sometime tomorrow." I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Which means he could be leaving town tomorrow afternoon. I plan to make myself unavailable from now until then and hope I can avoid him altogether."

Lillian laughed. "If he got Miss Etta Mae on his mind, I wouldn't count on him leavin' real soon. But I tell you one thing," she went on, sitting down beside me, "if you don't have a dinner party, we gonna be eatin' chicken till doomsday. I went to the store on my way here an' now we got enough to feed a army."

"Just divide it up and put it in the freezer. We'll eat on it as long as it lasts."

When the phone rang, Mildred Allen was on the line. "I see you have workmen there, Julia. Why don't you walk over and visit for a while?"

"Why, I'd love to, Mildred," I said, as another crash resounded throughout the house. One good thing about Adam and Josh putting on the second coat in the upstairs bedroom-painting was a quiet occupation that wasn't adding to the din. "I won't stay long, though, because the carpet people could show up anytime. I'm afraid they'll lay it in the wrong room if I don't watch them."

Feeling slightly guilty for leaving Lillian with the noise, I asked her to call me if the carpet men came. "Take it easy today, Lillian, put your feet up and read the paper. Nothing can get done anywhere in the house."

Leaving the sounds of hammering, men's voices, the tromp of feet going in and out the front door and their blaring radios relieved me considerably. I could even hear birds singing as I walked over to Mildred's serene household, where she met me at the door.

Thanking her for the respite, I followed her out to the side porch, where a tray with a full pitcher of tea, tall gla.s.ses and a dish of fresh mint leaves waited for us.

"I declare, Mildred," I said, accepting a gla.s.s from her, "I didn't know what I was getting into when I had the bright idea of remodeling. So I better get it right, because I doubt I'll ever do it again."

"Sure you will," she said. "The trick is to go somewhere, take a few weeks at the beach or go to New York and shop. When you come home, it's all done."

"You have more trust in your fellow man than I do. I'd probably come home to find the kitchen upstairs or out in the garage. I hate to complain, Mildred, but let me just tell you that I've had to watch both Tucker and Adam like a hawk. I don't think either of them has his mind on his work. And furthermore, I think Agnes Whitman is the reason for it."

"Well," Mildred said, taking a sip of tea, then setting down her gla.s.s, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What? Agnes?"

"Yes, she called me to complain about you."

"Me? What have I done? I hardly know the woman. And why did she call you?"

"She knows we're friends and, of course, she's upset about how long you're keeping Adam."

"Why, Mildred, you're the one who told me to keep him busy so she couldn't get him. Besides, he has left me and gone to her at least one day and he's worked for her after hours, as well." I fumed for a minute or so, then said, "And if she's upset with me, she should've called me. I think it's tacky that she called you to complain about me."

"I know," Mildred said somewhat complacently, "and I don't blame you. I told her she should talk to you directly. I didn't want to be in the middle of it, but she insisted that I at least speak to you about it. So that's what I'm doing and that's the end of it as far as I'm concerned." She patted her lips with a linen napkin, then said, "I told her, just as I told you, that possession is nine-tenths of the law, and there wasn't much she could do about it."

I could hardly speak, I was so disturbed. Don't you just hate it when somebody has a complaint against you and sends the message secondhand? The more I thought about the whole thing, the more incensed I became.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I demanded. "Stand at attention and salute? I don't think Adam wants to work for her, so her problem is with him, not me." I paused. "Or you. I have enough on my plate these days without adding Agnes Whitman's inability to keep help."

"I know, Julia. I'm just pa.s.sing it along."

"Well, I wish you hadn't."

"I wouldn't have," Mildred said, looking directly at me, "except for the last thing she said."

"What'd she say?"

"She said she was not accustomed to having her plans disrupted by either a menial worker or a small-town upstart."

"Upstart! She called me an upstart? Why, I'll have her know ..." I couldn't get enough breath to continue.

"Julia, it's all right." Mildred reached over and patted my clenched hand. "Don't distress yourself. You have to consider the source. I wouldn't have told you, but the more I thought about it, the more it sounded like a threat, so I thought you should know. But what can she do to you, other than keep Adam so busy you never get him back?"

"Well, that's another thing-calling him a menial worker. There's nothing wrong with working with your hands. In fact, there's honor in it, and her saying that just shows how little respect she has for him or anybody else who works for her." I took a deep breath. "I resent it for him, as well as for myself. I'm insulted and highly offended, especially since it comes from a tattooed woman who ought to be in a circus sideshow. Who is she to criticize or judge anybody?"

Mildred started laughing. "Well, she claims to be a minister, so I guess she's doing what they all do."

"Oh, Mildred, that's not fair. They're not all that way. Think of Poppy. But listen," I said, leaning toward her, "there's not a thing she can do to me-she ought to be worried about what I can do to her. Just wait till she wants to join the garden club or the book club or anything else in this town, then she'll find out. But I am worried about what she can do to Adam. He's already indicated that he doesn't want to work for her anymore, but honorable man that he is, he feels obligated. Mildred, I tell you, something strange is going on out at her place and I think Adam is being drawn into it. Against his will, I might add."

"Oh, I don't know, Julia," Mildred said. "Agnes has led a strange life, I grant you, but I don't think she's actually wicked. Why don't you just tell Adam he doesn't have to work for anybody he doesn't want to work for? He may feel obligated, but he's not legally obligated. We've all had people walk off a job or refuse a job, haven't we?"

Well, no, I hadn't, but Mildred was a lot more picky than I was, so I expect she'd had experience with people who wouldn't work for her. I decided not to point that out.

"I think," I said after giving it some thought, "that I should speak to Adam about this. I'm not sure how much good it'll do, but he needs to at least know she's upset with him because of me. Then," I went on with a bright idea, "I'll give him enough to do so that he can work at my house for as long as he wants to. He can even read his Bible on my time, I don't care. And Agnes can keep on blaming me, but maybe she'll leave him alone."

Mildred opened her mouth to say something, but Ida Lee appeared in the door. "Excuse me," she said, "but Miss Lillian just called to say that the carpet men have arrived."

"Oh, my goodness," I said, getting to my feet. "Thank you, Ida Lee. I have to run, Mildred. Thank you for the tea and the warning. I'll let you know how it turns out."

Chapter 39.

After checking the roll of carpet to be sure they'd brought the right one, I led the two men up to Sam's new office in the sunroom. I had selected a tightly woven, almost commercial grade of carpet so Sam's executive chair would roll smoothly over it without needing plastic mats and runners strewn everywhere.

Leaving the men to it, I tapped on the bedroom door, then walked in. Josh was painting in the bathroom while Adam was putting meticulous strokes on the window trim. He turned and gave me a tentative smile as I entered.

"Almost through,' he said.

"It looks lovely," I said, surveying the soft ivory paint on the woodwork. "So much more soothing than pink. Adam," I went on as I walked over to him and lowered my voice, "I don't mean to interfere in your business or your work schedule, but if you'd like to make a full week here, I could use some help putting furniture and boxes of books into the sunroom. And the carpet will be laid in here tomorrow, so furniture can be moved back in then." Before he could respond, I hurried on. "Before you decide, I have to tell you that Ms. Whitman is most upset with me and you-you for not dropping everything and going to her, and me for preventing you from going. Frankly, I think she has some nerve for making such demands, and I want you to know that I can find work for you and Josh for as long as you want it. If you stay here long enough, she might get tired of waiting and leave you alone."

A worried frown creased Adam's forehead as his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. Fearful that I had overstepped, I immediately regretted speaking so openly about one of his clients. My first thought was that I had misinterpreted what I had perceived to be a reluctance to work for her.

Yet he was reluctant about something or somebody, and what else could it be? Certainly not working for me.

Looking distressed, Adam said, "She already called me. I told her I had to make the week here."

"Why, that's perfect. It's all settled then, and you don't need to give it another thought."

"No'm," he said, shaking his head miserably, " 'cause I lied about it."

"Lied? That's hard to believe. How did you lie?"

I thought if his shoulders slumped any farther, they'd soon be on the floor.

"I told her you wanted me to stay on here."

"Well, I do! How could that be lying?"

"Because," he said, giving me a quick glance, "I told her that before you asked me to stay. So I guess I better go on out there and, maybe, make up for it."

Scripture verses began flitting through my mind as I searched for some redeeming reference about lying in a good cause. I wasn't having much success in finding one.

"Uh, well, Adam," I began, thinking furiously, "you know that the Bible gives us some stern warnings against drunkeness. We're warned over and over about it. On the other hand," I went on as his frown deepened, "we are also told to take a little wine for the stomach's sake. So it seems to me that that's a good a.n.a.logy for lying under duress. We shouldn't do too much of it, but a little now and then can be helpful under certain circ.u.mstances, even if we don't have stomach problems."

"Ma'am?"

"All I'm saying is that you weren't lying, you were making a presumptive statement because you knew I'd need you. You were thinking ahead on my behalf and should be commended, not condemned, for it. So you'll be here tomorrow and maybe on into next week?"

"Tomorrow," he said, nodding with some hesitancy. "Don't know about next week."

"We'll see about that later, then. But if Agnes Whitman gives you a hard time, you have my permission to blame it all on me. I'm not afraid of a skinny tattooed woman who thinks she's the boss of the world."

That brought the flash of a smile, but it didn't last long. "I'll probably pay for it, though," he murmured.

And, I thought, I probably would, too. I'd taken scripture out of context to prove that a little lie wasn't as bad as a out-and-out lie. The fact that we all tell little white lies every day didn't exactly absolve me. But what do you do when a friend needs rea.s.surance about what she's wearing? I was in good company, though, because I was reminded of some of Pastor Ledbetter's less efficacious p.r.o.nouncements after a convoluted effort to find a scriptural basis for some of his opinions.

I didn't let it worry me. There were too many other things rus.h.i.+ng through my mind. As far as I was concerned, Adam was safe for a while and I could focus my worries on Etta Mae, who'd be in the clutches of that possibly snake-handling sheriff in a few hours, and on Mr. Pickens, who would be facing an official grilling by that selfsame treacherous law officer.

So I showed Adam where Sam's office furniture was stored and explained where I wanted each piece in the sunroom. Then I took the newspaper into Lloyd's room, where I could occupy myself in a semblance of peace and quiet to await supper. Gradually, I began to hear the sounds of workmen gathering their tools and leaving. When all was quiet downstairs, outside and in, I went to the kitchen, where Lloyd had just come in.

We had supper at the kitchen table by ourselves, for I had told Lillian to go on home, that we'd clear the table and do the dishes. It was something to help me while away the long evening, which didn't get any shorter when Lloyd went out to ride his bicycle after we finished.

I wandered around the house, looking at what had been accomplished-not much-by the work crews during the day. The new library was larger by a good two feet where the closets had been removed, and a tarp had been stapled over the hole in the wall where the fireplace would be.

I walked outside to examine the brickmasons' work and was pleased to see that the fat part of the chimney was coming along nicely. Of course the lawn was a mess with pallets of bricks, wheelbarrows and discarded cement bags ruining the gra.s.s and one of my hybrid rhododendrons.

I saved the best for last and went up to Sam's new office. There was his large mohagony desk and chair, right where I wanted them; his easy chair; his lamps, which needed better placement; and the boxes of books and papers, which he would have to shelve himself. But the room was ready for him, so at least one part of my project had come in on time.