“So what are you going to do with the house?” Sara asked, bringing Joce out of reverie. “Sell it? Make it into apartments?”
Joce wasn’t fooled by her tone of not caring, of seeming to just be asking a question. So this is why the welcome carpet was rolled out so lavishly, she thought. Had someone told Sara to do whatever she needed to to find out what Miss Edi’s heir was planning to do with the old house? “How much do you think I could get for all those old bricks?”
She waited for Sara to laugh, but she didn’t. She kept her head down as she sewed on the beads.
“Sara,” Joce said, “I’m a lover of history. Since I got out of school I’ve made my living by helping people research the past.”
Sara looked at her with cool eyes. “It would make a wonderful B and B.”
Joce groaned. “That’s not me. I’m more of an introvert. I can talk with one person at a time, but put me among crowds of strangers and I crawl into my shell.”
Sara kept looking at her, obviously waiting for something she could tell the townspeople. Joce had a vision of the telephones lines becoming so busy they caught fire. Or maybe the overuse of cell phones would make the TVs go out.
Joce couldn’t hold out under Sara’s unblinking stare. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I really don’t. Miss Edi left me the house and I assume some money, but I have no idea how much.” Suddenly, Jocelyn didn’t want to tell more about herself than she already had. There were too many things going on inside her mind that were confusing for her to think clearly—and she certainly wasn’t about to tell anyone of her ideas of writing about Miss Edi. “You know of any job openings?”
“Tess got the last good job in town.”
Joce glanced toward the far side of the house at the other wing. The doors were closed and the windows shut. “By the way, what do you do? Other than repair dresses, that is.”
“That’s what I do,” Sara said as she cut the thread. “Mostly, I tailor dresses for ladies who buy a size six, then can’t get into it on the night they’re supposed to wear it.”
“You can make a living at that?” Joce asked.
Sara gave a shrug.
Joce was sure there was more to what she did for a living, but she didn’t seem to want to tell what it was. All Joce hoped was that it wasn’t something illegal. She hoped Sara wasn’t growing marijuana in a back bedroom. At that thought, she wondered if all landlords felt like this. What would she do if the bathtubs started leaking? What about termites? Miss Edi mentioned a gardener. What was his salary?
Joce glanced at the house and wondered where she was to sleep tonight. Was there a bed in the house?
Sara pulled a cell phone out of her sewing box, opened it, and looked at the time. “I have to go. This dress has to be back to its owner before hubby gets home.” Hurriedly, she rolled the dress in the towel and gathered it in her arms. “Would you take those things in for me?” She nodded to the dishes and sewing box.
“Sure,” Joce said. “If you trust me.”
“I not only trust you, I think it’s possible that I like you. See you soon,” she called as she ran back toward the house.
Jocelyn sat where she was, looking at the house and trying to make some sense of all that she’d heard since walking into the lawyer’s office. One time when Joce was sixteen she’d come home from school to find that all the Steps, mother and sisters, were gone and the house was quiet. Her father was alone in the garage, working on one of his bikes. She’d stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment. They rarely had time together, as his “new family,” as Joce always thought of them, took all of his time and energy.
“Off to Miss Edi’s?” he asked.
“Sure. We’re reading Thomas Hardy.” As she knew, he had nothing to say about that. Gary Minton wasn’t given to contemplation.
“Honey?” he said as she walked past him. “I hope you don’t give her all of your life. I hope you save some for yourself.”
She liked that he called her “honey” but she didn’t pay attention to his words. As always, her only thought had been to get away before the Steps returned and took over. Their noise and demands ruled the house, her father, everything. Sometimes it seemed that when her stepsisters were around, they controlled the
universe.
Now, she glanced at her watch. She had hours before Ramsey McDowell was to arrive, but she wanted to see the house and take her time getting ready. She’d bought a dress that was perfect for a picnic in an old house.
Her house, she thought, and smiled up at it.
3
LUKE WATCHED AS she—the new owner of Edilean Manor—left the house and strolled across the lawn to sit with Sara. He knew how she felt. Sara was a magnet for people and had been since they were children. Sara always cared, and always had time to listen to other people’s problems. He well knew that half of the reason women called her to repair their clothes was because they wanted to talk to Sara.
Last summer he and some of the cousins, Charlie, Rams, and Sara, were having dinner in Williamsburg when Charlie said she should put out a shingle and get paid for all her hours of listening to people about their problems.
“I couldn’t stand all those years in school,” she said.