on a pot of tea. She toasted one slice of bread to quell her nausea. Her
stomach churned even more at the first nibble.
Dot strolled into the kitchen. “How are you today ?” she asked, her eyes on the
toast Mary had hardly touched. “Still don’t have much of an appetite ?”
“Has Mr. Hull brought up the inspection to you ?” Mary said,
lowering her voice.
“I see you’re not ready to admit what’s really troubling you,” Dot said.
“That’s fine for now.” She looked down the hall. “By the way, there’s no need to
whisper.”
Mary’s face relaxed. “Mr. Hull doesn’t like me to meddle in his
business.”
“If the Home closes it will matter to us all.” Dot poured a mug of tea and took
a sip. “Mr. Hull’s not spoken a word to me. He doesn’t appear worried either.”
She moved the cup back and forth between her hands. “With what was printed in
the paper, I’d be a little more anxious in his place.”
Mary nibbled at a corner of the dry, crusty toast. “Is he here ?”
“Stayed all night again. He made breakfast and left when he received a call
from his wife.”
Mary stopped chewing. “She’s gotten bad news about the Home !”
“Not at all,” Dot said. “Mrs. Hull has the sniffles and wanted Mr. Hull to
fetch some cough syrup.” She chuckled. “Mrs. Hull demands immediate
attention.”
Nurse Jean Baker entered the kitchen wearing an extra sweater. “The rooms are
hard to keep warm in the winter,” she said, taking two mugs from a rack on the
sink counter. “I don’t want Sheila Vickers to catch pneumonia on top of
tuberculosis. Hot tea and toast will do the trick.”
“How is she ?” Mary asked.
“Dr. Kennedy stopped by earlier to see her. He’s pleased with her
progress.”
Dot retrieved a tray for the nurse. “The poor darling wants to be home by
Easter.”
“That isn’t likely to happen,” Jean said. “She’ll be here until
Christmas for sure.”
Dot placed milk and sugar on the tray. “Susan enjoys mystery books. I’ll go by
the library to take out a few for her.”
“She’ll appreciate that,” Jean said, and left with the tray loaded down with
tea, gingersnap cookies, and toast.
“Now, Mary,” Dot said once they were alone again. “Did you get an opportunity
to talk to Henry ?”
Mary rinsed her cup. “Yes. I told him to go to Toronto and not give me another
thought.”
BY NOON , MARY HAD SCRUBBED the upstairs hallway
in the main house and made all the beds, including those in the Annex. She found
it easy to avoid Henry, as he rarely left the office. Her stomach had settled
down by one o’clock. The hunger pangs which had gnawed at her all morning drove
her to the kitchen. She hadn’t packed a lunch and helped herself to a bowl of
the tomato soup simmering in an oversized pot on the stove. She crumbled a
handful of salted crackers into the thick red liquid. The first taste burned the
tip of her tongue. She blew on the next one before gingerly putting it into her
mouth.
Mary slurped at the last dregs of soup in the bowl when Mr. Hull returned.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “I hope your wife is doing better.”
Mr. Hull passed the table without a word or a glance at Mary. He stirred the
pot, his eyes glued to one spot on the wall.
Mary stood up. “Mr. Hull. Are you all right ?”
He turned around. “Oh. Mary. I didn’t see you there.” Soup dripped from the
ladle to the floor. He didn’t notice even when several drops found his
shoe.
Mary carried her dirty dishes to the sink. “Is anything the
matter ?”
“Not a thing,” Mr. Hull said, resuming the task at hand.
Mary wiped crumbs from the table. “I’ll see if the residents are ready for
dinner.”
Mr. Hull opened a loaf of baker’s bread. “Good idea,” he said, again not
looking at her.
Mary glanced back at her employer as she left the kitchen. He swayed slightly
and stirred the
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia