Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(47)
Rose stood at the kitchen counter with her back to the door. The radio played a Jimmy Buffet song, and as she snapped the ends off of a pile of string beans she sang along.
So much the better, Louie thought, and without saying a word he crossed behind her and opened the refrigerator door. He reached in, pulled out the platter of ham, a basket of biscuits, and a jar of mayonnaise. He would have gone unnoticed if at the last minute he hadn’t decided to add lettuce. When he added the head of lettuce to what he was holding, the jar of mayonnaise tipped and began to fall. Louie tried to catch it, but the platter of ham went. Everything hit the floor at once in an explosion of sound.
Rose screamed and whirled around, a look of fear on her face and the knife in her hand thrust out defensively. Seeing Louie, she said, “You scared the life out of me!”
By then Wilbur had come running to the kitchen, as had Laricka.
“For shame,” Laricka scolded. “We say no lunch and you do this?”
“It’s okay,” Rose said as she stooped to help Louie pick up the pieces of glass strewn across the floor. “No harm done.”
“But,” Laricka stammered, “you screamed—”
“Just startled,” Rose explained, trying to calm the momentary fear of believing Joe had found her.
~
For the first week Rose constantly looked over her shoulder, jumped at even the slightest sound, and slept with one eye open. Despite Caroline’s assurance that no one had seen them leave town together, Rose could not rid herself of the belief Joe would one day come walking through the door. The only moments of peace she found were the ones spent in the kitchen. There she could lose herself in the tasks of mixing batter, peeling vegetables, or leafing through the pages of Ida’s cookbooks. When Rose came to a page that was tattered and food-stained, she would think about making that dish for supper.
After only a few days the house began to change. Burnt biscuits became a thing of the past and questions such as “Would you prefer stuffed pork chops or rosemary roasted chicken for dinner?” began to circle the breakfast table. Supper was once again served at six, and there was no longer a need for the dinner bell because the residents were seated in their chairs before the sixth chime on the clock had sounded. But the food wasn’t the only change.
High-pitched giggles wafted through the hallways, and toys began to pop up in the strangest places—a Jack-in-the-Box in the hall bath, a tower of blocks on the living room coffee table, a Barbie doll with no clothes peeking from beneath a stack of newspapers,
The desk in Caroline’s old room was moved upstairs to the loft, along with the picture Peter Pennington had given her. Although Peter made the desk seem light as a feather when he carried it in singlehandedly, Louie and Doctor Payne wiped beads of sweat from their faces as they heaved and hauled it up the stairs. Once the desk was pushed into place against the sloped wall, Caroline hammered a nail into the wall and hung the picture above the desk. She stepped back, eyed the picture, and looked into the face of a man who was both stranger and friend. “Welcome to your new home,” she said laughingly.
On Sunday Rose made Ida’s much-loved chicken and dumplings for dinner, and after Louie tasted the first bite he jumped up, darted around the table, lifted Rose from her chair, and wrapped her in a gigantic bear hug. “You’re amazing!” he said. Then he pleaded with her to marry him. Laughter broke out around the table, and before long it had the merry sound of a party.
The door to Max’s room was closed and locked, but sounds slid through the keyhole and picked at his thoughts. Through the weeks Max’s resentment had spread from Caroline to the other residents, and such frivolity could only mean one thing: they were hatching a plot against him. With his eyes narrowed to mere slits and his mouth set in a steely straight line, Max twisted the lock open and walked into the dining room. Rose sat in the seat he’d previously occupied. With a scowl that carved ridges above his brows, he looked at her and roared, “What the hell…?”
Rose bounced up so quickly the chair fell backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Caroline might not have found the courage to speak if the angry words had been directed at her, but there was no hesitation in her defense of Rose.
“Back off, Max!” she said angrily. “I told Rose to sit there.”
Before anything could happen, Wilbur grabbed onto the exchange. “Here, Max, take my seat.” He stood and offered his chair.
Max eyed him suspiciously, then came around and sat.
While it may have appeared to be a lessening of Max’s standoff, such a thing was not true. To Max’s way of thinking, his presence prevented them from furthering whatever vengeful plans they had. He’d already imagined any number of harmful things they might do: break into his room and cart away all his belongings, plant a nest of bedbugs in the mattress, poison his toothpaste. The list was endless. He had to be on guard.
Once Max was seated at the table, the laughter ended and words came with a thin covering of wariness. The conversation turned to weather, summer flowers waiting to be planted, and a movie Harriet had seen nearly a month ago.
Max added nothing to the conversation but remained in his seat, smug in the satisfaction that he had thwarted whatever mischief they were planning. Moving forward he would be more diligent; he would be there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The next morning Max came to the breakfast table. He also sat there at lunchtime and again at supper. For the first few days his presence caused the residents to be on edge, wary that a single wrong word could set him off on a tangent that could turn violent. Twice Harriet cornered Caroline and suggested it would be better for all concerned if Max moved out.