Terms of Service (11 page)

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Hannah prepared to follow a new routine.  She woke up and readied herself for the day, but instead of wearing her business casual wardrobe, she wore her ripped, torn comfy clothes.  It felt rather nice, actually.  She hummed to herself as she and Madge worked together in the kitchen.  Once the girls had been fed and were marching upstairs to brush their teeth before going to preschool, she decided to get Madge’s opinion on the changes for the kitchen and hearth room.

“Listen,” she began slowly, “you spend at least as much time in this room as I do.  How would you like to see it decorated?”

Even though she hadn’t finished wiping down the black granite counter, Madge stopped and turned to face Hannah.  “Are you asking for my opinion?”   Her mouth hung open slightly as she awaited the response.

Brow furrowed, Hannah said, “Naturally.”  She moved closer to the woman she worked to bond with.  “Why does this surprise you so?”

“Well, Miss Hannah,” she said, tears forming in her ancient eyes, “no one ever does.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Surely, you’ve gathered I’m not like everyone else by now.”  Then she walked around the counter, looped her arm through Madge’s and walked her to the sofa.  The coffee table was laden down with kitchen idea books and paint keys.  Gesturing to the couch, she said, “Let’s get to work.”

That evening, after dinner had been consumed and cleaned up after, once the girls had been bathed, read to, and tucked in for the night; Hannah made her way to the study armed with her kitchen selections and a notepad.  She smiled as she did the ‘knock and enter’ which had become her hallmark.

***

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin was smiling at her from his desk.  He had anticipated her arrival ever since slinking back to the room following her nightly reading.  “So, what brings you here?”  

Smirking to show she saw through him, Hannah curled up in her chair and began to relay her business.  “Well, we came to some decisions about the kitchen and I had hoped to get your approval.”  She leaned forward to lay the paint keys on his desk, along with a cabinet finish sample and with a slight hesitation, a slab of the Silestone.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “First of all: we?”  He looked at her confused.

“Oh, yeah.  I asked Madge for her input.”  She pointed at the desk and tried to turn his attention back to the samples, but he was simply staring at her.

“Huh” was all he managed to say as he considered her actions.  She had asked for his housekeeper’s opinion.  He could only imagine the persnickety woman’s reaction.  She must have been touched.  Hell, he was touched.  He shook his head in disbelief.

“Now,” she began slowly, “I know this will cost a bit more than I originally anticipated, but hear me out.”  Hannah studied him for a moment.  “Are you listening to me?”  

“Oh.” Gavin was roused from his thoughts. “Yes, you were saying?”

Scowling, Hannah began again, “It may seem like more money than you want to spend, but there are ways to make it more cost effective and bring us closer to budget.”

“How’s that?”  He was fascinated with how her mind worked.

“Well, for example, we can take all the cabinets, fixtures, and counter we remove and give it to Habitat for Humanity.”  

“That benefits me how?”  He queried seriously.

“They will give you a receipt for use on your taxes.  It will be treated as a donation.  You’ll get a break and some very fortunate people will get a nicer kitchen than they dreamed possible.”  She watched him for a reaction.  “So, it will take a while for you to see the savings, but in the end…”

“Sounds good, Hannah.”  He smiled at her, marveling once again at what an amazing woman she was.  Always she thought of others without wondering what she had to gain.  How different she was from anyone he had ever known.  He sighed.

“So, I can order everything?”   She suddenly appeared timid, as though he might deny her simple request.

If he was going ahead with his original plan, he’d be grilling her for multiple estimates, have her on a tight budget, do everything he could to torment her, cause her pain.  Again he sighed.  That’s what he’d do, if only he had the heart to go through with it.  But no, the traitorous organ, which had in years past been accused of being rendered of stone, had gone mercilessly soft for Hannah, leaving him feeling exposed.  At that realization, he merely muttered, “Of course” and turned his attention back to his files, filled with self-loathing.

He tried to ignore her, couldn’t face her.  Yet as the minutes ticked by, he knew she was still seated across from him.  No, the little minx was apparently not through with him yet.  It took every ounce of self-restraint to hold back the sigh as he eyed her warily.  “There’s something else you wished to discuss?”  He spoke as evenly as he could manage.

“Ummm,” she began slowly, “would you mind if I read some of the books?”  She gestured to the titles she was admiring the night previous.

That was all?  She just wanted to read some of his books.  “My books are your books,” he said quietly.

Squealing in delight, she bound out of the seat and headed for the nearest bookcase.  “I know just which one I want to start with,” she gushed as she reached for Amy Tan’s
The Hundred Secret Senses
.  Holding the novel reverently, she headed back to the chair and curled up once more to begin reading.

Gavin simply stared at her for a moment.  She had this unbridled passion for life.  She lived exuberantly.  Now she was going to sit across from him all night and torture him with her presence while she read.  He frowned.  “You don’t have to read it here.  You can take it to your room, or the patio, or the keeping room…”  He was ready to list off all the other more fitting places for her to spend her evening, but as he spoke she shook her head.

“I like it here,” she announced.  “I like the way this room feels.  I’ll be really quiet.  I promise.”  She raised her hand in a pledge.  “You won’t even know I’m here.”  Without waiting for his response, she turned back to the novel and began to read.

Lifting his eyes heavenward, he clenched his fists a few times.  Of course he’d know she was here.  He was always utterly and profoundly aware of her presence.  What bothered him even more was the thought if she weren’t right there in front of him he’d be just as disturbed since he was also acutely aware of her absence.  He wouldn’t be able to concentrate then either, wondering over where she was in the house and what she was doing.  His revenge was costing him greatly.

***

The kitchen needed to be packed.  Hannah and Madge stood side by side eyeing the room with their hands on their hips.  It was a natural pose for Hannah and Madge had, of late, begun to emulate her, a realization which rocked Hannah to her core.  The excitement of the remodel was fast wearing off as the realization of the increased workload took hold.  Joe had looked Hannah in the eye the other day and announced she was a product person.

“What does that mean?”  She had questioned, unsure of whether or not she should be insulted.

“Well,” he said, scratching at his chin, “some people like the entire process, the problem solving, the work, the whole enchilada.”  He had smiled warmly at her.  “Then there’s you.”

She had scowled at him and given him her best indignant look.   “Again I ask, what does that mean?”  She had narrowed her eyes for effect.

“Well, Miss Hannah,” Joe responded with a chuckle, clearly unmoved by her scowl or angry eyes, “you just want to get to the end result.”

“Oh, is that all,” Hannah giggled.  “Yes, well all the stuff in between is simply a necessary evil, as far as I’m concerned.”  She had smiled at him then before admitting, “I’m definitely a product person.”

Now with the kitchen scheduled for demolition the next day, there was no more putting off the inevitable.  They had to pack the room.  “Well, let’s get this over with,” Hannah said.  “I’ll start on this side, you start on that side and we’ll meet in the middle?”

They shook hands, grabbed their boxes, and began to pack the room.  They had hastily and easily moved the food from the pantry to the shelves set up in the dining room.  The dishes were quickly packed into the boxes they had come in.  By lunchtime, they really only had the drawers left to tackle.

“How’d I get stuck with the junk drawer?” Hannah mourned as she opened the one drawer she had steered clear of ever since she had moved in.

“Guess you’re just lucky,” Madge said with a twinkle in her eye.

Studying her suspiciously, Hannah gasped.  “Why you sneak!”

Chuckling, she said, “Why, Miss Hannah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Then she turned around before her face could give her away.

After a few minutes, Hannah had sorted through the stack of menus, weeding out duplicates and discarding altogether restaurants they didn’t order from.  She tossed all the loose batteries into a baggie to be tested later.  Just when she was congratulating herself on making such short work of the dreaded drawer, her finger touched on something metal in the far back corner.  “Hey,” she exclaimed, “what does this go to?”  She showed Madge the key she discovered.

“Oh,” Madge began with a slight shudder, which really made the mystery all the sweeter for Hannah.  “I forgot about that.”

“Answer the question, Madge,” Hannah demanded.  “Stop holding out on me.”  She studied the key some more while she waited.  Seeing the old housekeeper was still hesitant about revealing the key’s purpose, she shrugged.  “Fine, I’ll just ask Gavin.”  Then she pocketed the key before moving to seal and label the last box.

Sensing she was thwarted, the older woman answered.  “Don’t bring that key to his attention!  He never goes down there.  He had those rooms shut up the day she moved out, that wretched woman!”  She agonized and paced.  Hannah knew if she just waited a moment more, everything would be revealed.  “It goes to India’s studio downstairs.”

Perking up instantly, Hannah remarked, “There’s a downstairs?”  And before Madge could stop her, she was walking out of the kitchen to look for this secret room, leaving the woman to scamper after her.

Sighing, Madge grabbed her hand and said, “It’s this way.”  She led Hannah out the patio door, down the steps, and around the side of the house.

There were paving stones Hannah had never paid attention to previously leading to a glorious wooden set of French doors.  Unable to mask her excitement, the thrill of discovery, Hannah danced slightly as she pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.  Throwing the doors wide, she stood and surveyed the space.

A healthy layer of dust coated every surface, but still the potential was evident.  There was a kiln, and shelves for drying, a wheel, and other essential pottery items Hannah vaguely remembered from her time in the college studio.  There were tools for stained glass, as well as an array of glass pieces.  She walked through reverently, her fingers gently skimming over various items as she passed.

“Wow.”  It was all she could say after examining the room.  It seemed inadequate for someone with her extensive vocabulary, but somehow the place rendered her speechless.  She beamed at Madge.  “Thank you for showing me the studio.”  Without thinking, she moved to give the housekeeper a warm hug, leaving the woman shocked and pleased.

“The place hasn’t been used since that woman left.”  She never called India by name, simply referred to her as ‘that woman’ or something similar.  “Do you do…any of this?”  She asked carefully as she gestured to all the items.

Nodding happily, Hannah admitted, “Some.  I had more passion than talent, but I’m told that with practice…”  Her voice trailed off as she imagined the possibilities.

“Then practice,” the housekeeper urged.  “The room should be yours.”  Her face turned serious.  “But Mr. Meyers can never know you use this.  Understood?”

Hannah shook hands with Madge and felt her second wind take hold.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until the room was cleaned and ready for her use.  She smiled as she thought about what she would create first.

Just after five in the afternoon, Hannah dialed Amy’s cell phone.  To her surprise, her call was answered almost immediately.  “Amy!” She squealed, eager to reveal her good fortune.  Her best friend listened indulgently while she relayed the details of her day.  Finally, Hannah paused.  “You’re not yourself, Ames.  What’s wrong?”  The concern in her voice was evident.

“I hate that I have to tell you this,” Amy began.  She made a noise reminiscent of a growl, before continuing.  “I received notice from Brett’s lawyer a few days ago.”  

“Well, spit it out,” she said seriously.  “Tell me like a Band-Aid.”  It was code for them, their own special language.  Tell her as quickly as possible.  Out with it, no matter how badly it would hurt.

“Okay,” Amy said, “here goes.”  She took a deep fortifying breath before continuing.  “We have a hearing set for next week.  Brett is contesting the amount of child support and he refuses to pay alimony altogether.  There.”

Hannah could hear the rustling of papers and the squeak of Amy’s leather office chair.  “So,” she began quietly.  “How does it look for me?”

“It’s mostly a technicality.  This happens all the time.  The guy refuses to pay.  The woman has to fight him.  It’s going to be a huge hassle.  You’ll have to provide documentation, which shouldn’t be a problem since you’re so organized.  He’ll try to keep this in court for as long as possible to make you suffer without money.”  She sighed.  “It’s an ugly game, one that I hate playing,” she swallowed hard, “especially when it’s my best friend who’s involved.”