Sarah's Legacy (11 page)

Unlike the local ruffians, Mr. King was attired in a proper evening suit. I must say that this served to enhance his attractiveness, although he would be handsome in farmer's wear.

During the third game, at which time I was seated in that gentleman's company, Mr. King solicited my opinion on several matters of discussion. In fact, so steady were his attentions to me that I felt sure he would inquire as to when I might be receiving visitors. The one disappointment in the whole evening was that he made no suggestion of calling on me. Still, all in all, it was a glorious night, and one that shall not soon be equalled.

I confess that, for the first time in my life, thoughts of courtship and romance are not so unappealing after all.

I fell asleep reading Aunt Sarah's diary and woke in the morning to find my light still on and Arthur the Fifth purring contentedly on the pillow beside me. I vaguely remembered Plunk being there through the night too, but he was nowhere to be seen when I got up.

The clock told me it was past nine, and for a moment I thought I was going to be late for school. Then I remembered that it was Victoria Day and we had the day off. But it was pretty late, and I was supposed to help Mom with the servants' quarters again, so I scrambled out of bed and hurried to wash and get dressed. Then I headed to the kitchen.

I could hear from the shuffling sounds that Mom was already hard at work. A peek out the window to see
if Stan was there too told me the coast was clear for the moment. At least, there was no sign of his car.

I had a glass of orange juice but didn't bother with breakfast. To be perfectly honest, I had no appetite at all. The thought of facing Stan if he happened to come over made my stomach churn with guilt and embarrassment.

Arthur's appetite, on the other hand, was just fine, as he quickly let me know with loud, demanding meows. I poured some food into his dish and was amused to see a couple of other cats come running at the sound, even though I knew they'd already been fed. Filling a few other bowls to make sure none of them tried to bully Arthur, I made my way out to join Mom.

“Morning, dear.” She smiled. “You must have been worn out from all the work and swimming yesterday. I saw neither hide nor hair of you after you went upstairs.”

“I guess I was pretty tired,” I agreed. “What time did you get up?”

“Six,” she said cheerily. “I wanted to get a good head start on things so when Stan gets here he won't think I'm taking advantage and leaving things for him.”

“What time is he coming?” I asked, hoping she couldn't hear the dread in my voice.

“I'm not sure, but he told me yesterday morning that he'd be around to help all weekend, so he'll probably come walking in any time.”

He didn't arrive during the morning, though. We worked steadily and Mom tried not to keep looking at her watch, but once in a while I saw her glance down at it. By noon she'd gotten a little quieter and less cheerful.

“Something must have come up,” she said as she opened a can of soup for our lunch. “I'm sure Stan told me he'd be around today. Or maybe I misunderstood him.”

By then I knew that Stan wasn't coming, but I couldn't tell her that. What was I supposed to say, “Actually, Mom, I insulted Stan pretty bad at the pool yesterday, so I don't imagine we'll be seeing any more of him”?

The afternoon went by slowly, with Mom stopping to listen every time she heard a noise outside. Her face would get hopeful for a few seconds and then fall with disappointment, which she tried to hide from me. I had to pretend that I didn't notice anything was wrong, which wasn't easy since I felt like crying the whole time. I'd ruined everything.

We called it a day around five, ate, and did the dishes. As we were finishing up, the phone rang and Mom hurried to answer it. I knew she was hoping it would be Stan, but it was David, calling to ask if we wanted our lawn mowed after school the next day.

I suggested a game of crib. We hadn't played since we got to New Brunswick, mostly because there were
so many other things to do. I figured it might distract Mom from worrying about why Stan hadn't showed up or called. She said okay, but after half-heartedly shuffling the deck for a few minutes, she admitted she really didn't much feel like playing.

“I think I'll catch up on my correspondence.” Her voice was kind of sad and worried, though I could see she was trying to sound normal. “I haven't written to anyone since we got here.”

Feeling terrible, I went up to my room and picked up the diary. It seemed to be the only thing that took my mind off what I'd done. It's amazing how cool it was to read about Aunt Sarah's life, stuff she'd written when she was still a teenager with her whole life ahead.

It was like a novel, only it was true. What a strange thing to think that the young girl in the diary was the same person as the old lady who'd just died.

April 20

There is much excitement in the air today. Last evening, Mr. King held a meeting at the town hall, where he presented his business proposition. After weeks of speculation and gossip, we are finally aware of his reason for being in Brockville.

Most of the local men attended and Father was no exception. I tried very hard not to appear too eager to hear of it at the
breakfast table this morning, though anything related to Mr. King has become most interesting to me.

“He's a mighty convincing fellow,” Father declared, as he told Mother and me about the evening. “A lot of the men signed up on the spot after seeing his sketches and business plan.”

“What sort of business is it?” I asked, taking care to keep my voice casual.

“Production of a new automobile.” Father shook his head then. “I must say that it looks good on paper. This King fellow says he's putting half the money into the business and raising the other half from locals. Claims he doesn't believe in doing it any other way, because if the locals are involved, and stand to make a lot of money, everything goes a lot smoother than if there's just an outside investor creating jobs and realizing all of the profits. And of course, putting up half the money himself proves his own commitment, so to speak. Went on about teamwork a good deal.”

“That makes sense,” Mother said mildly.

“I suppose it does. It's the figures that I wonder about. According to Mr. King, investors will see a return of ten times their initial outlay inside of five years, and as much as fifty times in ten. That would turn three hundred dollars into fifteen thousand in ten years.”

“My goodness,” Mother said.

“Sounds too good to be true,” Father said. “And from my
experience, if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I don't like to be sceptical, but that's how I feel.”

This angered me. Mr. King is obviously a great visionary. It's men like Father who hold this town back from a real chance of growth and success. I wasn't the least surprised when Father said that the whole thing was too speculative and he had no plans to invest.

How I wish I was entitled to the inheritance set aside for me on my grandfather's death, but that won't be mine until I'm twenty-one. Of course, it's expected that I will be married at that time, and my property will become my husband's. I would invest my money and be wealthy and independent in a few years, if only I could.

Sometimes it's just horrid being a woman!

So! Aunt Sarah had an inheritance too! Only, she was held back from doing what she wanted with it. Her gift to us suddenly meant even more to me.

My mind was anywhere but on my work at school on Tuesday, which wasn't going to help when we had a test in English on Thursday. I barely paid attention to the story we were reading and instead kept drifting off to thoughts of Stan and what was going to happen with him and whether or not Aunt Sarah ever got to know Mr. King better.

It occurred to me that maybe Stan would come around while I was at school. Mom hadn't looked very happy at breakfast, and it was awful to think I'd caused that, even though she didn't know it.

Ashley and Jamie were getting together at Jamie's place after supper, and they asked if I wanted to come too.

“No,” I said, without giving an explanation. For some strange reason, I felt angry at Jamie, as if it was
her
fault that I'd said those mean things about Stan. It was like I blamed her because she'd asked me to go swimming, since nothing bad would have happened if I hadn't been there. I guess that was stupid, but that's how I felt.

It wasn't the smartest thing to do, putting off the only two friends I'd made since we got here. After all, school would soon be out for the summer and it was going to be pretty long and boring if I didn't have anyone to hang around with. None of that seemed to matter very much at that moment, though.

Mom was peeling potatoes when I got home, and I could smell chicken cooking in the oven. One glance at her told me that Stan hadn't been around as I'd hoped he would.

“Hello, dear.” She smiled without much behind it. “How was your day?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Busy. I did a lot more out there.” She inclined her head toward the servants' quarters. “I think it will be cleared out by the end of the week. I'm going to put an ad in the paper for a yard sale this Saturday to try to sell off some of the stuff.”

That was when I remembered that Stan was supposed to do the renovations. I mentioned that to Mom, real casual like, but it didn't seem to cheer her.

“Well, yes, I did talk to him about that. We'll see.
There are other contractors around, so I'll probably get quotes from a few others too.”

I could see from the way she'd answered that she wasn't going to contact Stan about doing the work if she didn't hear from him first. Mom has too much pride to call him — not when she had the impression he didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

I knew she had to be wondering what happened, why all of a sudden he'd just stopped coming around or phoning. She probably thought he'd lost interest in her. I wished I could get up the nerve to tell her the truth, but even the thought of explaining it made me feel sick.

A couple of times I tried to force something out, but no words came. It was as if my mouth was frozen or the words were stuck partway out or something.

We ate dinner, though neither of us could get much down. I snuck a few bites to Plunk, who seemed to be around me constantly these days.

Arthur the Fifth, too. I've almost stepped on him half a dozen times. The other cats were pretty aloof, just hanging around the house and only bothering with us when they wanted something to eat. Not Arthur. He made a regular nuisance of himself!

I did my homework after we were done eating and cleaning up. While I was trying to concentrate on the story we'd started in English that day, a buzzing sound started up outside, startling me into dropping my book.
Looking out my window, I saw that it was David mowing the lawn.

Almost as if he had built-in radar, he glanced up at the window, saw me there, and waved. I felt like an idiot, with my nose squashed against the pane, looking down at him like some kind of reverse Peeping Tom. If that hadn't happened, I could have taken him a glass of water later and maybe had a chat. He might even have been able to give me some advice on the problem I'd created with Stan. After being caught looking out the window, though, there was no way I was going outside to talk to him.

Instead, I finished reading my story, did my other homework, and got out the diary. I'd nearly reached the end of the first one, and I was wondering if Aunt Sarah ever got to know Mr. King any better. The very last entry gave me my answer.

May 04

He has come! Mr. King has come to call on me. It matters not that Mr. Colby was there already, seated in his usual chair by the mantle, attempting once again to engage me in the tedious talk of his grand future
—
in which it appears he still supposes I shall have a role. At least Mother is of some use at such times, happily agreeing with his every word and throwing me meaningful glances meant to encourage my participation. I find it quite easy
instead to pretend fascination with my needlework and to answer her efforts to draw me into the conversation with polite, singleword replies.

As we were being thus entertained, Miss Johnson arrived in the doorway and announced Mr. King. He strode into the room looking remarkably fresh for one who has been so busy with important business matters.

Mr. Colby made an attempt at amiability, but a good deal of his posturing was transparent indeed. It was apparent that he felt his position as my number one suitor was threatened, and how could it not be? A man such as Mr. King, a wealthy, successful man of the world, makes the locals look even commoner.

I found my needlework much less intriguing from that point forward and conversed with Mr. King on a variety of matters. He is so well informed on every subject and was most keen to hear my views on politics, social issues, and even business. It was refreshing to have an audience for thoughts I have previously kept to myself.

Mr. Colby insisted on interjecting ideas and opinions. Mr. King listened politely before challenging them with wit and ease. I felt almost sorry for Mr. Colby as he made himself look more and more ridiculous and unlearned. His disgruntlement grew until at last he took his leave, though not before promising pointedly to call again on the morrow.

It was then that Mr. King suggested a refreshing turn about the property. He and I strolled through the apple orchard and up
the slope until we reached the river. From there, we proceeded along its banks and spent an enjoyable half-hour talking as easily as old friends before returning to the house.