Songs of Christmas (9 page)

“Yes, I remember.” He nodded, as if acknowledging that he didn’t attend church much. “Wait. You never told me your name. Or should I just call you Music Girl?”

Amanda couldn’t help but smile at that twist. She turned at the top of the aisle. “It’s Amanda . . . Amanda Harding.” She paused. “So . . . should I just call you Window Guy now?”

He laughed, a warm, deep sound. “It’s Gabriel . . . Gabriel Bailey. I thought you’d never ask.”

She left the sanctuary and headed to her office. And couldn’t stop smiling. Gabriel Bailey . . . Pie Guy, Spy Guy . . . and Window Guy . . . was extremely cute and clever.

And even though dating was low on her list right now, Amanda knew she would happily agree to go out with him . . . if he asked her.

She ducked into the choir room with a surprisingly happy feeling. Who would have thought she would meet a guy like that at this job? Would he be around a lot, working on the windows? Or was this just a random thing? Maybe she could find out somehow.

At least you know his name now,
she told herself.
And he knows yours. That’s a start.

* * *

“EMILY? IS THAT YOU?”

“Yes, it’s me, Mother. I have the monitor.”

Emily had returned to her mother’s house on Tuesday after work, bringing the baby monitor and some other items she thought they might need. She let herself in with her own key, since she knew that the task of answering the door was a long and sometimes painful one for her mother and that Mrs. Fallon might be helping Ezra.

Her mother had called from the living room but appeared in the foyer with surprising speed. “Thank goodness you’re here. Something terrible has happened.”

“What is it?” Emily’s heart jumped. “Is it Ezra?
”

What a fool I was to leave them alone. They didn’t even get through his first day home. I knew this was a recipe for disaster. Even with Mrs. Fallon here—

“Ezra is fine. Comfortable as a clam.” Her mother waved a thin, bony hand, heavy with antique rings. “It’s Mrs. Fallon. Her daughter, rather. We just had a call. There’s been an accident. Holly is in the hospital. Yale Medical Center, so that’s good. Not critical, thank goodness, but very serious. An injury to her back. They’re not sure yet if she’ll need surgery.”

Emily gasped out loud. “The poor woman . . . what about the babies?”

“The children are home with their father, safe and sound,” Lillian cut in, dispelling her fears about the triplets. She turned and walked back into the living room, leaning heavily on her cane with each step.

“Martha wants to go down there right away,” Lillian added. “At least until they can get some help in.”

Emily nodded. She knew how devoted Mrs. Fallon was to her only child, Holly, and her husband—and now her three, practically newborn, grandchildren.

She doubted Mrs. Fallon would return to Massachusetts any time soon, even if Holly and her husband did bring in more help. Her mother was fooling herself to think otherwise. Mrs. Fallon was a dedicated employee, no question, but her family needed her now.

“Where is she?” Emily asked.

“Upstairs in her room, packing.” Her mother balanced on her cane a second, then dropped heavily onto the sofa. “She’s driving to New Haven tonight. The sensible thing would be to wait until the morning, but she won’t listen to reason.”

Emily didn’t reply. Lillian had always been a very reasonable parent, never swept away by emotions, rarely rushing anywhere on her daughters’ behalf. Emily had harbored her share of disappointments about Lillian’s mothering. But she had learned to forgive and let go, to accept her mother for who she was.

“This accident leaves us in the lurch, doesn’t it?” Lillian admitted. “At least for a few days.”

“I think Mrs. Fallon needs to be with her family, Mother. Probably for a few weeks.”

Lillian looked surprised at that prediction. “A few weeks? Do you really think so? That doesn’t work out for us at all . . .”

“Mother, it’s her daughter, with three infants. Even if Holly doesn’t need surgery, she’ll definitely need a lot of help right now—and the peace of mind of having her mother there.”

Her mother’s mouth twisted, as if she were struggling to swallow something very sour. “I suppose . . . Oh, here she is.” Lillian hoisted herself up on her cane as Mrs. Fallon came down the stairs. Emily heard an odd bumping sound, then saw the housekeeper carrying two large suitcases, one in each hand. She set them down in the foyer, near the front door.

Well, that was a clue right there. She planned on staying in Connecticut as long as she needed to, no question.

Mrs. Fallon came into the living room, and Emily greeted her. “I’m so sorry to hear about Holly. Have you heard anything more?”

The older woman looked as if she had been crying. “Thank you, Emily. No, David hasn’t called back yet. I just want to get down there to see her. Especially if she’s going to have an operation tonight.”

“Yes, of course. We’ll all be thinking of your family and praying for them. Especially for Holly.” Emily gently touched Mrs. Fallon’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Emily. I’m sorry to leave you all in the lurch like this, with Dr. Elliot so sick—”

“Don’t worry about that now. We’ll be all right. You need to be with Holly and David, and your grandchildren,” Emily assured her. She glanced at her mother. “Isn’t that right, Mother?”

Lillian paused a moment, then nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. Such sad news. We wish you all the best. You’d better get on the road, Martha. It’s a long drive.”

Emily knew that in her mother’s mind, Mrs. Fallon was abandoning them. Her farewell barely masked her annoyance.

Mrs. Fallon didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she was used to Lillian by now and just ignored her slights.

“Yes, I should get going. I just want to say good-bye to Dr. Elliot,” she added. She turned and headed for his room, with Emily and Lillian behind her.

Ezra was sitting up in bed, reading a book. He quickly put it aside when he saw Mrs. Fallon.

“Any more news?” he asked with concern.

Mrs. Fallon shook her head. “Just the same that I told you before. I’m going now, Dr. Elliot. I’m sorry to leave you like this, but—”

“Now, now. Don’t you be apologizing to me. Don’t give it a thought. It will help Holly enormously to see you by her bedside. Best medicine in the world, I guarantee it. Godspeed, Martha. Give us an update on Holly when you can. We’ll be praying for you all,” he promised.

He took her hand in his, and Mrs. Fallon leaned down and gave him a quick hug.

“Good-bye now. I’ll be in touch,” Mrs. Fallon promised.

Lillian and Ezra said good-bye again, and Emily walked her to the front door. “Do you need any help with your bags?” she asked.

“Oh, I can do it. Never pack more than you can carry. That’s my rule for traveling.” She leaned over and grabbed her bags; luckily, she was quite strong.

Emily opened the door for her. Mrs. Fallon paused before she walked through. “I hope it works out here with your parents. I know how important it is to your mother to have Dr. Elliot at home while he recovers.”

“I’m going to stay over here tonight, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Emily had already made that decision, though she’d had no time to call home and tell her husband, Dan. “I’m sure we can get some help in here quickly. No need to give it another thought. You have a safe trip.”

The door closed behind Mrs. Fallon, and Emily wondered if her assurances were true. She braced herself for a royal battle with her mother about bringing help in. They would need someone here around the clock.
Total strangers,
her mother would complain.

But what was the alternative? Send Ezra to a rehabilitation center, as his doctor had first suggested. She already knew what her mother thought about that. And she also knew her mother would do her best to sabotage every health care helper that stepped through the door.

Then what?

Emily dreaded the answer to that question.

Chapter Four

A
S
E
MILY EXPECTED, LINING UP QUALIFIED HELP FROM A
home nursing service was not a problem. How long those helpers would last at her mother’s house was the question. They had been through this before, when her mother had fallen and broken her hip. Emily and her sister, Jessica, both dreaded dealing with the situation again. There was no reason to think it would go any more smoothly. Their mother was already boiling oil to toss over the castle walls at the invaders.

Emily had called Jessica the night before, filling her in on Mrs. Fallon’s sudden, game-changing departure. Jessica, always willing to help, had arrived bright and early Wednesday morning so Emily could run back home and change for work. But from the moment she opened her eyes, Lillian debated the need for twenty-four-hour help, insisting to her daughters that it wasn’t necessary. Emily, fearing Lillian would never let the new hire past the door, decided to put on her clothes from the day before and stay, at least until the aide arrived. Sometimes it took both of them to handle their mother.

Alice Briggs seemed promising. She greeted Emily with a calm, confident smile and an attitude to match. Lillian tried to intimidate her as soon she set foot in the house, questioning her credentials and experience. Alice was unflustered, easily fending off this first attack.

Emily and Jessica glanced at each other. Round one, Alice—a hopeful sign. But there was no guarantee Nurse Briggs would last until lunch.

While Alice hovered over Ezra, taking his vital signs, and Lillian hovered over Alice, the sisters slipped into the kitchen.

“She’s the brassy type. I like that. I think she’ll give Mother a fair fight,” Emily predicted in a low tone.

“Let’s hope so,” Jessica agreed. “You go, Em. I’ll stay a little longer, see how it goes. I don’t have to be in until eleven; I have late hours today.”

Jessica worked at a bank in town. She had been there many years, off and on, as her three children were growing up, and was now a senior manager. Even though they both worked on Main Street, the sisters rarely had the chance to meet, for lunch or even coffee. It was usually some family gathering or problem with their mother that brought them together. Emily wished she had more time with her sister. Even though Jess was nine years younger, she was still Emily’s best friend.

“If you have the time to spare, I’m going to run home and change. I hope I don’t need to start leaving things here.”

“Don’t even say it,” Jessica warned. Years ago, after Lillian had taken a fall, Emily had practically been living there until her older daughter, Sara, actually did move in to help her grandmother.

“Good point; I won’t. But even if Mother tolerates Alice, there are two more aides coming, one at five o’clock and one at eleven. They really need round-the-clock care right now.”

“We’ll just have to see how the rest of the helpers add up. So far, so good?” Jessica offered optimistically.

“I guess so. But even if these nurses work out, we’ve still just solved half the problem. If only we could find one person, who would live in and also do some light cooking and housework. Like Mrs. Fallon.” Those chores were not really covered by the aides they had hired.

“Mrs. Fallon is one in a million,” Jessica said.

“She gets along with Mother, so I’d guess she’s one in a trillion,” Emily corrected her before giving her sister a quick hug and heading on her way. She could hear her mother and Alice Briggs conversing in an animated tone.

“. . . but he always has a shower in the evening,” Lillian was saying.

“It’s healthier in the morning,” Alice countered.

Oh dear, they’re at it already,
Emily thought as she slunk out of the house. Her mother was a tireless opponent and relished a battle of wits . . . or of “nitwits,” as she was likely to call it.

Alice Briggs had no idea what she was up against.

* * *

EMILY FINISHED WORK EARLIER THAN USUAL. IT WAS JUST FOUR
o’clock, but she was dragging after not sleeping well at her mother’s the night before, and she decided to head home. But first she swung by Providence Street to see how things were going.

As Emily walked up the path to the front door, she braced herself. Lillian had called twice and left long messages. No emergencies, thank goodness, just petty problems with Ms. Briggs. Emily was sure Lillian had a laundry list of complaints by now.

Instead of using her key, she rang the bell. Her finger had barely lifted off the button when the front door flew open. Emily expected to see her mother. But it was Alice Briggs, coat on and medical bag clamped beneath her arm.

“You’re here. Good. I was just going to call . . . I can’t wait for the evening nurse. I have to go.” Ms. Briggs swept past her, practically knocking Emily out of the way as she left the house.

“But . . . wait . . . you’re supposed to stay until five. Until the next nurse gets here.”

Alice Briggs turned at the bottom of the steps. “I’m sorry. Mrs. Elliot is impossible. I can’t work under these conditions. I’m a qualified professional. I don’t have to take that sort of abuse.”