Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(27)
When I think back on all the years I blamed Big Jim for what happened with James, I feel real sorry. I thought Jim was being too strict on the boy, but I can see now he wasn’t strict enough. I guess Jim saw a selfish streak in James that I wasn’t willing to see. I was like most mamas: blind to my child’s faults.
I hope Jim and God can both forgive me.
Where There’s A Will…
Ida began with letting Caroline set the table. “Knife on the right, fork on the left,” she explained. But at breakfast the next morning a spoon was included, and Caroline came running back for further instructions.
During the week that followed Caroline boiled spaghetti, dipped chicken breasts in egg and rolled them in breadcrumbs, then chopped lettuce for a salad. And when the timer sounded she pulled on oven mitts, removed the biscuits from the oven, and piled them into a basket. None of those things could actually be considered cooking but Ida felt it best to start with a familiarity of the kitchen, which in and of itself was proving to be a challenge.
In the midst of preparing a lemon meringue pie, Ida asked Caroline to fetch the zester and she came back with a jar of paprika. At that point Ida suggested Caroline should be upstairs working on her novel. “After you become a famous author,” she said with a laugh, “you can hire someone to do the cooking.”
As someone who for years had considered a bag of pretzels a meal, Caroline had no love of being in the kitchen and apparently no talent for cooking. Once the suggestion was made, she scurried from the room before Ida could change her mind. In the days that followed, that became the routine. Ida cooked and set dinner on the table while Caroline labored over a novel that now seemed stale and unimaginative. After several days of struggling with a single sentence, she turned to writing letters to friends she hadn’t spoken with since leaving Philadelphia. On numerous occasions she volunteered to help in the kitchen, but Ida said help wasn’t necessary.
~
On the last Wednesday of March, Ida cooked up a breakfast that bordered on being a banquet. Not only did she serve omelets chuck full of peppers, onions, and tomatoes, she served thick slabs of ham, stacks of sausages, big bowls of hash browns, and a homemade cinnamon crunch coffee cake. When everyone had eaten to the point of gluttony Ida said, “I have some business to attend to, so I won’t be here at lunchtime—”
“Whaddaya mean you won’t be here?” Louie cut in.
“It means just that,” Ida answered. “I won’t be here to make lunch.”
“No lunch?” Louie moaned.
“I didn’t say that,” Ida replied patiently. “Caroline will prepare lunch.”
“Caroline?” a chorus of voices echoed dubiously.
Ida assured everyone that her granddaughter was perfectly capable of preparing lunch and promised to be back before dinner. When they finished the breakfast cleanup, Ida wrote out a list of what was needed for lunch and handed it to Caroline.
“It’s just a platter of cold cuts and some potato salad,” she said. “Nothing needs to be cooked or prepared.”
“Sounds simple enough.” Caroline pocketed the list and headed upstairs again to tackle the love story that had gone sour.
~
When Ida climbed into the car and headed toward South Rockdale, she knew exactly what she would do. She felt certain Big Jim would approve and as for James…well, James would no longer have a say in the matter.
The white stone building sat crosswise at the end of Main Street. It stood three stories tall, not large by many standards, but the biggest in South Rockdale. Ida parked the car, crossed the street, and entered the building. Opposite the door was a building directory. Ida traced her finger along the names: Cohen, Diamond, Elkins, Morrissey, and, there at the bottom, Susan Deuel Schleicher, attorney at law.
Ida stepped into the elevator and pressed three. When the doors whooshed open she moved into the hallway. The door on the left was an accounting firm; the law office of Susan D. Schleicher was on the right. Ida twisted the door handle and walked in.
There was nothing friendly about the office; everything was either black or white. Like the law. “I have an appointment with Miss Schleicher,” Ida told the receptionist.
The girl turned her head, whispered something into a small mouthpiece, then turned back. “She’ll be with you shortly. Have a seat.” She pointed to the black leather sofa.
Ida could have gone to Jack Muller, the only attorney in Rose Hill. But she was never comfortable with Jack. He wasn’t a person she could talk to easily. She’d be in the middle of explaining a problem and Jack’s eyes would be darting back and forth, like he was looking for somebody better to talk to or lightning to strike.
For years Big Jim did business with Jack Senior and everything was fine. Then Jack retired, and Junior took over the law practice. Junior wasn’t like his daddy. Jack Senior measured every man by his own worth, but Junior was the type to butter his bread on both sides. He’d gone to school with James, and if push came to shove he’d have his hand out ready to side with James. No, it was better this way.
Susan Schleicher had a good reputation, and she’d come highly recommended. Georgiann Hennley swore without Susan’s help her father-in-law would have lost his business. And Linda Moore said Susan singlehandedly prevented a highway from slicing through Maryellen Pallow’s backyard.