What Was I Thinking? (24 page)

After that, I joined Bert and Augusta at the
breakfast table, where they fussed a little about how much better I looked with
a little rest. I felt very cosseted again. Bert finished his coffee and left
with a very
Father Knows Best
peck on
my cheek and Augusta and I were alone again.

I waited until we were in the morning room, and
then explained my situation and asked for advice. It
was
embarrassing, especially since I’d been such a dork the day
before that I’d thought I was sick and allowed a fuss to be made, but she was
all kindness and tact, as she explained how these things were handled in 1904.
It wasn’t all that different, except pads were cloth instead of paper and, of
course, no tampons.

Interestingly—I should have know this, but one
forgets the stories from mothers and grandmothers—she didn’t think I’d done
anything wrong at all by considering myself sick the day before. She thought it
was completely normal, not to mention sensible.

I thought it would be a mistake to let myself
start thinking like that, but considering the heat and the unfamiliarity of
this world, I decided to be easy on myself this month. I would not make a fuss,
but I would take it easy, drinking cold drinks and resting as much as possible.

After
this week, though, I really had
to figure out a way to get some exercise. It was one thing to put off the gym
week after week at home, but there was no gym here and I was going to get fat
and unhealthy if I didn’t do something soon. I already felt like a potato from
the inactivity and the heavy food.

Part 2: What Was I Thinking?

Chapter Twelve

Betrothed and Bemused

Time hung heavy on my hands. It probably hadn’t
been a good idea to take life even easier than it already was in this pampered
life. I found myself restless and irritated that I didn’t know exactly what
time it was.

I hadn’t worn a wristwatch in years, but I had
always had my phone within reach and had glanced at the exact time any time I
wanted to know. I had set alarms to let me know when it was time to go to a
meeting, to remind me of
birthdays,
and sometimes just
to reassure me that an hour had passed while I was at some dreary task. And
always the time had been exact—it was beamed from the satellite that got a feed
of the Greenwich Mean Time and translated it into the local time.

Now I knew approximately what time it was, and
that only if I went to one of the rooms that had a clock. There was a
grandfather clock in the downstairs hall, a little enameled clock on Augusta’s
desk in the morning room and a big, manly wall clock in Bert’s parlor upstairs.
Each of them seemed to keep decent time, but they were rarely synchronized to
the minute.

I didn’t need to know the exact time, of
course. The days were so unhurried that I always had plenty of time to dress
for an event, and there was no such thing as rushing to a seat in a conference
room before the time was exactly three o’clock, or trying to log into the
company network before the system clock registered nine a.m.

The knowledge that I didn’t
need
to know the time seemed to make it
more irritating that I didn’t. I found myself walking to the grandfather clock
many times an hour, and finally decided that I absolutely needed a watch.

I would buy one, I decided. On the next trip
downtown, I would find the watch department at Stix and buy one.

No I wouldn’t. I had no money, and no way to
make any. Enough was enough. I would talk to Bert about it, and we would just
have to figure out a way for me to earn an income. I could use something other
than needlework and conversation to keep me busy anyway.

The day my period was
finally
over—I hadn’t counted the days off so grimly since sixth
grade—I got up early and took a thorough bath, glad to be able to soak again. I
did miss shaving, especially my underarms and especially on hot days, but at
least I could scrub.

When I was dressed, I went down to breakfast in
time to catch Bert before he left for work. He was reading the paper and seemed
disinclined to talk, saying good morning without looking up.

I said good morning to both of them, sat down,
and then turned to Bert again. “Bert, there’s something I’d like to discuss
with you.”

“Not now, dear.
I’m reading the paper,” he
said, without looking up.

“Yes, now,” I said firmly. “The paper will
keep, and it’s very rude to read it when I wish to speak with you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Augusta rise
from the table and leave the room.
Considerate.

Bert put the paper down with a sigh. “What is
it, Addie? What cannot wait until a more convenient time?”

Well! I found that both condescending and
selfish, but we would discuss that another time. I needed to stick to the topic
this morning.

“I need to do something about earning money,
and I thought you could advise me on how to go about it, since my old job isn’t
available.”

“You hated your old job,” he pointed out.

“I did. So it’s fine that it’s not available,
but I need to earn some money—”

“What on earth for? Do we not provide for you
amply?
Indeed, most generously?”

“Yes, of course, but that’s part of the
problem.”

He frowned at me. “How could that be a problem?
Dear, you’re not making much sense. Do you perhaps need to lie down?”

What I
needed
was to smack him, I thought grimly. But I got a grip on myself and stuck to
logic. “No, I don’t need to lie down. It’s a problem because I’m an adult and I
need at least some money of my own to spend as I choose. I wanted to buy myself
a watch this week and I realized I couldn’t.
Which made me
realize I have no independence at all.
And it’s embarrassing to keep
taking handouts from you and your mother.”

“Now, now, dear.”
He patted my hand. I narrowed
my eyes, but didn’t yank my hand away—yet.

“There’s no need to get exercised. Of course
you shall have a
watch,
and some pocket money as well.
It was wrong of me to forget it. I’ll speak to my man of business this very
morning and make arrangements. Now, I must go.”

He rose, kissed the top of my head, and left the
room, taking the newspaper with him. I sat still and fumed. How condescending!
And selfish! Not only did he ignore the whole point of what I’d said, he’d
taken the newspaper with him, as if he were the only one who would want to read
it!

I didn’t know what else to do but fume. It
would have been satisfying to kick something, or to throw a glass at the wall,
but I
was
a guest in this house.
Besides, I would regret anything like that. Violence had never been my way. But
now what?

I looked down at the plate in front of me. The
fried eggs swimming in butter, fried tomatoes, and assorted other delicacies
didn’t look at all appetizing. I needed some simple, low-fat food, and some
exercise. Diet Coke would be nice, too, as long as I was fantasizing.

I sighed deeply, and then stood up. It was more
than time to start taking care of myself instead of passively trying to fit in
with all the problems that came with this fairy-tale life. Sure, I had a
responsibility to keep from introducing shocking anachronisms and I had to
accept some things that just hadn’t been invented yet, but I could make some
private adjustments that would make my life better. And I would start now.

I went into the kitchen and asked Mrs. Horner
for a slice of unbuttered toast and a glass of cold water. She looked at me as
if I’d gone insane, but said she’d be in, “Directly, with your requirements,
Miss Addie.”

I went back to the dining room, feeling a
little better just for having made the request, and sat down to eat the slice
of cantaloupe I’d been ignoring earlier. I had never particularly liked
cantaloupe, but it was fresh and it hadn’t been stewed, creamed, sugared, or
otherwise adulterated and I was going to eat it.

From now on, my breakfast would be dry toast,
whatever fresh fruit was on offer, and a tall glass of cold water. That was a
start.
One meal at a time, one hour at a time.
I loved
Bert, I was going to marry him, and I was going to stay friends with Augusta
and not embarrass her in front of her friends and servants, but I was going to
figure out a way to reclaim myself, too.

I frowned, suddenly.
Protein.
I hadn’t decided on any protein for breakfast and that was going to be a
problem. It wasn’t good to start the day without out it, but all that was on
offer was so very fatty. I gave my fried eggs another look. Eggs were always on
offer. I had never been crazy about them, either, but they were very high
protein. There was the cholesterol issue, of course, but that was up for debate
the last I heard and if I got my diet regulated to the point where cholesterol
in boiled eggs was my biggest problem…

Mrs. Horner came in, carrying a small plate
with two lovely slices of homemade bread, lightly toasted, and a tall glass of
water. Of course, homemade bread was by far the most common kind here, but it
smelled so good! I took a moment to appreciate it.

“Here you be, Miss. Will there be anything
else?”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Horner. I know I
make extra work for you and you are very kind.”

She sniffed, but seemed pleased. “Yes, miss.
Will I be taking your other plate away?
You’re not wanting
your nice eggs?”

“I do not. I apologize. I was wondering…” I
drifted off as she had started to leave, but she turned back and looked at me,
waiting.

“I was wondering if it would be too much
trouble to make hard boiled eggs sometimes.”

“Yes miss, right away.”

“Oh, no, no.
Please don’t. This lovely toast
will do me just fine today. I was thinking of tomorrow, if that would be…” I
genuinely did not want to ask her to do extra work and I also knew that making
enemies of the cook was as dumb here as crossing a secretary—
excuse
me—administrative assistant—had
been in my day. They might not seem to have any power, but that was an illusion
only a fool would believe.

“Tomorrow.
Yes, miss. If
they’s
your favorite, I can boil up a couple for your tray
every morning.”

I smiled with sincere gratitude. “That would be
lovely. Thank you
very
much, Mrs.
Horner.”

She sniffed again, but a smile lurked at the
corners of her mouth. “I do aim to please, that I do, miss. I’ll bid you good
morning now.”

She bore away my unwanted breakfast and I
settled down to my nice dry toast with pleasure. That was breakfast sorted out,
then. It was a start.

When I couldn’t reasonably put it off any
longer, I sought out Augusta in her morning room. It had been tactful of her to
slip away when Bert and I began to quarrel, but she knew we had, and I was
self-conscious about it.

Like me, she preferred to take the bull by the
horns, or put the moose on the table, as business types had taken to saying
during my late, lamented career. No ignoring quarrels like a respectable lady.
“Addie, Bert stopped in to speak with me before he left for work. He told me
what you were upset about.”

“He did?” That surprised me. I hadn’t thought
he even
understood
what I was upset
about.

“He did. He told me you needed a watch and were
too shy to ask for one.”

“Oh, no, that’s not—” I stopped, with my mouth
open, because she was opening a small, velvet box and looking at me with an
expectant smile.

“I would like you to have this one. I had
planned to give it to you at your engagement party, but there is no real reason
to wait.”

I looked from her friendly face to the open
jewelry box she was holding out and felt tears come to my eyes. She was so
kind, so generous, and she must think I was horribly ungrateful and demanding.
The box held a small gold watch face, about the size of a quarter, but
octagonal. It wasn’t on a bracelet, but dangled from a short gold chain. At the
top of the chain was a gold brooch, designed to look like a ribbon bow.

“Oh, Augusta!
It’s beautiful!
And so generous.
I didn’t—I don’t deserve—” I couldn’t think
of the right thing to say.

“Of course you do, dear. Here, let’s pin it to
your dress and see if it suits.”

She pinned it exactly where a brooch would go,
not waiting for my answer, and stood back to admire it. I looked down at it,
sniffling a bit.

“It does. It looks just beautiful. I’ll
treasure it.” I pulled my scented handkerchief from my sleeve, and tried to dab
away the various liquids leaking from my face. “Thank you so very much Augusta.
You are too generous.”