38. The Perils of Empathy #2
“My sentiments exactly!” Hildegarde tapped her umbrella for emphasis. “I was here two and a half hours ago. I was willing to be patient then. I did a bit of shopping and took a walk in the park. But enough is enough. I’d like my book already, as promised.” She eyed Maida accusatorially.
“Of course, Ms. Fish,” Maida said soothingly as she undid the lock.
“Why don’t you come in now and I will fetch it for you?
I’d be happy to offer you some tea and cakes as well.
On the house, of course.” Maida held open the door.
“Why don’t you go get comfy and I’ll be right with you.
I’ll bring a selection of teas and cookies so you can decide what you’re most in the mood for. ”
“Well that’s more like it, dear. I could do with a spot of tea,” Hildegarde cooed. “And some of those snickerdoodles, if you don’t mind, with a bit of apricot jam?”
“Coming right up!” Maida called cheerily after her. She glanced back at Arthur, worried. “It was probably something innocent. Are you going to be okay?”
“No. I will not be okay.” Arthur paced back and forth on the porch, jabbing a finger against his T-watch. “Come on, Rosie. If you don’t answer me in the next ten seconds, so help me gods, I’m going to drag you back to Boston. You’ll never set foot in Primrose Court again.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Maida said. “Rosie’s a smart girl and she can take care of herself. At least give her a chance to explain before you freak out.”
“What do you know?” Arthur glowered at Maida. “She’s a child.”
“She’s young, and she’s headstrong, but I don’t think she’s reckless.
Or helpless.” Maida tilted her head and placed a hand on her hip.
“I think you’re being a little unfair. You might try talking to her.
Share some of your own feelings with her?
Maybe then she wouldn’t feel like she can’t open up. ”
“Try talking to her?” Arthur was gobsmacked. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? She barely says two words to me these days. She won’t even show herself to me. I’ve never seen her in a full shift. I don’t know if she takes after me, or her mother…”
Arthur’s stomach was roiling.
“Or maybe neither of you.” Maida shrugged.
“What do you mean by that?” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“Talk to your daughter, Arthur. Not to me.” Maida glanced in the shop, checking to make sure her customer was still getting settled. “I will say that one thing you both definitely have in common is that you are ridiculous about opening up to people who care about you.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to be a father,” Arthur rumbled.
“And you don’t understand what it’s like to be a daughter,” Maida countered. She took a tentative step into the shop. “I need to go help Hildegarde, Arthur. We can’t afford to lose customers.”
“I just want her to be safe.” Arthur followed Maida into the shop, waiting behind the counter, while she sorted through the boxes of special orders.
He checked the watch again. Nothing but gossip, conspiracy theories, and questionable wart remedies.
Precisely why he hated these newfound conveniences.
A network, indeed. More like a public clothesline for the airing of personal laundry.
I bet she’s run off with that Bardo boy.
It’s too bad about that Hart girl. When will these kids learn not to mess with synthetics?
She’s a good kid. Probably just hanging out with a girlfriend and lost track of time.
Probably dead in a ditch, like poor Zephyr.
Have you considered putting your teen on a strict vegan diet?
Every thought he could have, would have, had already had, was flashing across the watch screen faster than he could articulate his hopes and fears.
“It’s not like her not to pick up. She always picks up, Maida.” He jabbed at the useless watch again.
“Oh dear,” Maida exclaimed. She was standing beside the register, holding a second piece of paper in her hand. This one was folded into thirds and had Maida’s name on it. It was also written in Rosie’s handwriting.
“Give it to me,” Arthur demanded. His voice had gone cold and hard now.
He had hoped Maida might be a positive role model, perhaps help Rosie open up a bit to him.
As difficult as Maida’s relationship with her father was, he knew she’d always remained close to Buffalo.
The last person he would have expected to come between him and his daughter was Maida.
“I can’t do that.” Maida shook her head and slipped the note under a book on the counter. “She specifically asked me not to.”
“Hecate’s owls you can’t!”
“I think you should trust her on this.” Maida’s chin jutted out.
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” Arthur’s teeth were clenched as he spoke. “If she’s with Bardo, she probably isn’t safe. Have you seen the size of that boy in full yak shift?”
“Pffft.” Granny Luna appeared, as if out of nowhere, and blew a raspberry at Arthur. “She could take him.”
“Granny!” Maida exclaimed. “How long have you been here? Where were you?”
“I went to visit a friend and then I popped off to the reading room for a quick nap, which I was enjoying until I heard all this shouting. What are you all on about? Rosie’s only gone off to meet with her fellow about some rare book he wanted to borrow.
Hardly worth all this fuss. She’ll be back by half noon. ”
“It’s after three, Granny.”