20. Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Kate
The next several weeks are busy ones. The old GoGetters Grocery building gets turned into “Spindizzy Municipal Center.” Charles puts Manuela onto tracking former owners of each of the houses, and to setting up the ones that have no living heirs either to be renovated or torn down. James is deeply involved in that, since we knew many of the former residents.
I have my hands full with keeping track of the pets and Cece. Manuela locates a recently constructed tract home on the outskirts of Spindizzy for us to move into. The house had not sold before the contractor went bankrupt. It isn’t a particularly inspired construction, but it has four bedrooms, a couple of walk-in closets, two bathrooms, a decent kitchen with plenty of cabinets, and a fenced backyard. More than that, it has never been lived in, and aside from a coating of dust, it is completely ready for occupancy.
I am sitting on the back porch of the tract house, reading “Ransom of Red Chief” to Cece. Recently, the escapades of the eleven-year-old boy who punked his kidnappers has become one of Cece’s favorites. I have just reached the end, where the kidnappers pay rescuers to take the boy back, when James calls.
There were twelve other houses left by the bankrupt contractor, and Charles quickly moved his office staff into them. And, because isolation is still the most effective prevention for the pandemic, he has caused a communications tower to be erected over the municipal center. Manuela continues to act as gatekeeper and communications officer.
“Why couldn’t you have done that?” I complain at the image of my brother on the phone screen, completing my thoughts out loud.
“Done what?” James asks over the connection.
“Put up a wi-fi tower so we could have good Internet,” I grumble.
“Oh, I don’t know,” James pretends to speculate, “Maybe because I don’t have a multi-million-dollar corporation to draw on for funding? Those things don’t come cheap, you know.”
“I get it,” Kate says, watching Cece make her way up a climbing net to the platform of a pirate-themed play set.
“I’m Red Chief!” she shouts. “I double dog dare you to climb after me!” Where had she gotten that expression?
Then I say to James, “Even after living in the penthouse, I don’t think I realized just how much power money can have.”
“It isn’t just money,” James reproves. “It’s also Charles. When he speaks, mountains move. The rest of us would probably have had to wait a year before that thing went up. Yet six weeks after moving in, here we are with solid communication and a viable community. Small, but viable.”
“A bedroom community,” Kate says. “We have everything a housing tract needs, but people here either work for Charles, drive into surrounding towns, or they are retired.”
“Are you sorry to be working for Charles?” James asks. “I won’t ever forgive myself if looking after Cece makes you unhappy.”
I shake my head. Memories of playing Scrabble late into the night, losing my virginity because I didn’t want to die without knowing how… how…That… felt before I died. Sweet evenings here in our little house, sitting out on the back porch watching Cece and Gidget chasing fireflies. How can I be sorry? Then I realize that shaking my head is only shaking the phone.
“No regrets for that. But I can’t wonder what might happen when all this is over and the world goes back to normal.”
“I’d say it’s likely you will still have a job looking after Cece. They both like you, and it isn’t easy to find a nanny or a ‘household manager’ that fits into a household.”
“And I . . . am very fond of them.” For a moment I try to imagine a world without Charles, and Cece, of course. I sigh, sit down on the back steps, place one elbow on a knee and rest my forehead in my palm.
“But . . .?” James prompts.
“I’m tired,” I admit. “I’m not sure why, but keeping this place up is a lot harder than playing house in the penthouse.”
“There is yardwork,” James teases.
I deliberately make an angry face into the phone’s camera. “It’s a pocket handkerchief,” I say. “And we converted the front lawn into a decorative vegetable garden using potted plants, so yardwork is minimal. I think I’m just lonely. Charles is gone most of the day. Much as I love Cece, conversation with a four-year-old is somewhat limited.”
“She’s a very bright four-year-old who will soon be five,” James points out.
“Yes, she is,” I agree. “Sometimes, frighteningly so. We had a wonderfully intellectual discussion about lady bird beetles, good bugs and bad bugs, today. I said that ladybugs were good bugs. She seemed to think about it for a minute, then she remarked that the aphids probably didn’t think so.”
James laughs. “Situational ethics before she’s even in kindergarten?”
“You have no idea.”
“Say, I talked a little bit with Charles. He’s worried about you. Says you’ve gotten real quiet. How would you feel about having Grace Weber come visit? It shouldn’t take much to get security clearance for her, and I think Charles might even agree to hiring her to help out around the house.”
I narrow my eyes at the phone. “Why are you suddenly being so helpful? How do you know Grace?”
“Oh, I, uh…” James fumbles, trying to find an answer.
“Do I hear an ulterior motive?”
James clears his throat. I know that throat clearing. It means I’ve caught him, now all that remains is to determine whether I need to tell on him or not.
“James! Have you been sparking my roommate?”
James blushes such a bright red I can see it on the video connection. I knew I’d hit pay dirt. “I…uh…yeah.”
I shake my finger at the phone. “And is that one reason you wanted to get me out of the house? So you wouldn’t have a chaperone?”
“Um…maaaybe.” He draws the word out, turning even redder. If this keeps up, the whole screen will turn red and the phone will catch fire.
“James!!!!” I nearly shout his name.
“Aw, Katie, don’t yell at me, please. It’s not been easy. First, Grace’s parents wouldn’t hardly let her, her sisters, or her cousins out of the house. Then, when things started to loosen up, it was green bean harvest time and then it was watermelon time, and they needed someone to take care of the farmer’s market booth . . . and . . .”
“In short,” I snigger, “As the old song goes, ‘you never see Gracie alone.’” I give the words the singsong cadence of the Irvin Aaronson classic. “There was her father, her mother …”
“All right, all right,” James concedes. “But I still need your help. If she’s visiting you, I might at least get a chance to say hello without a dozen family members breathing down my neck.”
I laugh. It feels good to finally know why James had practically tossed me out the door. He’d had one altruistic reason, and another personal, selfish reason. “All right,” I say. “I’ll ask her. But you owe me, James Albert Bailey. And don’t you ever think I won’t collect. Probably when it is least convenient.”
“Katie….” James wheedles.
“Don’t you ‘Katie’ me. It’s a good thing I love Cece and I like working for Charles. And that I miss Grace.”
“Love you, Little Sis.”
“Love you, too, Idiot Big Brother. Next time, try just opening up your mouth and telling me what’s going on.”
“What? And have you blab to Mom and Dad? You’re the biggest tattletale, ever.”
“At least I learned to use my words,” I say.
“Conceded.” James grins at me, with that irritating big brother grin. Someone speaks to him off screen.
“Gotta go. Don’t forget!” He breaks the connection.
I thumb my screen to the homepage and smile. There had been girlfriends over the years, but never one who caused James to blush like he just had.
Then Cece nearly gives me a heart-attack by leaping from the pirate deck to the fireman pole. I am halfway across the yard when she expertly catches the pole and slides down it.
“Cece!” I admonish her. “Don’t do that! You nearly scared me out of ten years’ growth.”
Cece giggles. “If I don’t scare you, will you get bigger?”
I sigh. “Probably not. But if you scare me enough, I might get smaller. Come on, let’s go make some dinner. Your daddy should be home in a little while.”
“But it was fun!” Cece declares. “Wanna try it? I can show you how.”
“No,” I say, a little more sharply than the tone I usually use with my small charge. I try to soften it. “You could fall and seriously hurt yourself. There’s not even a safety net under that.” I make a mental note to suggest that the platform be extended closer to the fireman pole or that the feature be removed. We’d had to order the play set, and it’s really intended for older children.
“What are we having for dinner?” Cece asks.
“Would you like tacos?” I ask. “We can go out front and pick all the things that need to go in it.”
“Are there hamburgers growing out there?” Cece teases, grinning at me as she takes my hand and allows me to draw her into the house.
“No hamburgers. That part comes from the Swanson’s van.” I truly bless whatever genius on Charles’ staff had enlisted Swanson’s delivery service. They bring meat, ice cream, milk, and cheese to our door so I do not have to take Cece into a grocery store. With so many companies going under and difficulty with getting stuff shipped, it is a real blessing. Our neighborhood truck even has some local produce.
The container garden is doing well, even though it had been started late and most of the plants purchased were already starting to fruit. We’d picked a good time to move to Spindizzy. The windmills keep the city utility aquifers full, and the rain helps the water table.
It was too late in the season to start large vegetable crops such as corn or beans, but we had lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers all growing in pots. Charles had purchased an electric weed eater and an electric lawn mower for me .
I’m trying to think how to ask Charles about having Grace come to visit when Cece starts crying.
I look up from the lettuce I’m picking and realize right away what had happened. Her face is flushed, tears streaming from her eyes. In one hand she holds a tiny red fruit. She had picked one of the tiny red peppers!
I drop the lettuce and run to her. “Don’t rub your eyes!” I yell.
I grab her hands. “Spit it out! Spit it out, right now. Did you swallow it?”
She shakes her head.
I scoop her up and run for the kitchen. I sit her in a kitchen chair and hand her a soda cracker. “Eat that,” I order.
Cece sobs and gasps, but does as she is told. I pour a quarter glass of milk. “Now, drink that.”
Cece sips the cold milk. As the cold liquid coats the inside of her mouth and soothes the burning sensation, she stops crying. “I’m sorry, Miss Kate,” she says.
“Oh, Cece!” I exclaim. “What did I tell you about asking before you put anything in your mouth?”
“Always ask…but we put the little red peppers in stuff. I just wanted to see what it tasted like. I only bit off a tiny piece.”
“Thank goodness for that!” I say. “Those tiny peppers are good in chili or with beans, but even then I only put in a little bit because they are very strong. But maybe this will help you remember not to bite things without asking first. What do you think?”
Charles comes bursting in through the door. “I saw the lettuce on the walk!” he exclaims. “Is everyone all right? I don’t see any blood.”
I can tell that his attempt at a joke is a feeble one. He knows me well enough to know that I would never throw food down carelessly .
Before I can explain, Cece says, “Miss Kate says I should always ask before putting anything in my mouth. But it was in our garden so I thought it would be ok. I only bit a tiny little piece of it.”
Thank goodness Charles looks amused rather than angry. “Jalapeno?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I didn’t buy any Scotch bonnets or habaneros. But I wanted something to give our hamburger or beans a little bite.”
“It bited hard!” Cece exclaims. “I had to eat a cracker and drink some milk.”
“And now we need to clean your fingers and wash your face,” I say, “So you don’t smear hot pepper oils in your eyes.”
It is nearly an hour later when I finally get our evening meal on the table. When I prepare the taco meat filling, I show Cece how I always wear gloves to cut the little hot peppers, and that I use only one tiny one to go in a whole batch of flavored meat.
After we have eaten, watched a family sit-com, and Cece is in bed, Charles and I go out and cuddle together on the back porch swing. The fireflies dance on the lawn.
“You are very quiet,” Charles remarked. “Are you all right?”
“I think it is all starting to catch up with me,” I say. “Finishing my semester on time, the storm, moving, and managing a new household. And Cece is getting bigger. She’s impulsive and curious. She jumped from the play set platform onto the fire pole today.”
“Did she make it?” he asks.
“Yes, but if she’d missed, I would never have gotten there in time to keep her from falling,” I admit.
Charles reaches over and takes my hand in his. The feel of his skin warms me and starts a now familiar heat in my middle, but it does nothing to allay my fear of what he might say next. “I’m asking a lot of you,” he says. “Would you like someone to help?”
I nod. “I think so. It is hard to be on duty twenty-four seven, keep up with the housework, and make sure that Cece is safe.”
“Do you have someone in mind?” he asks.
“My college roommate. She is going nuts with two sisters and a bunch of cousins at her family’s house. She’s been doing field work for pocket change.”
“Ask her,” Charles says. “I’ll pay her what I was originally going to pay you, before you had to take on household management as well as childcare.”
I text Grace.
Me: Hey. You want to join me with taking care of Cece?
Grace: Isn’t that your job?
Me: Me house manager, you nanny.
Grace: Eye roll emoji.
Me: seriously. She nearly got hurt twice today. I can’t stay on top of everything all the time.
Grace: What did she do?
Me: Jumped off the play platform to slide down the fireman’s pole and ate a hot pepper.
Grace: Oh, my. But didn’t we all try the peppers at one time or another?
Me: Yeah…guess we did.
Grace: Ok. Sure. I’ll come help – especially if there’s a paycheck.
Me: There is. I already talked it over with Charles. He thinks it’s a good idea.
She accepts. And just like that we go from being a household of three to being a household of four. l look forward to seeing Grace, but I mourn the loss of privacy. It is getting harder and harder to see Charles by himself. “Oh, I never see…” I sing softly to myself.
But I will never forgive myself if something happened to Cece.