A Little Romance: Stories for Hopeful Hearts Read online

  There was a sort of sitting area in the center at the top of the stairs. It had reading lamps and easy chairs and a few bookracks. Only Helen and Ralph had their own suite on the ground floor; those rooms used to be for the senior servants in residence, back in the day when the house had those. That meant the butler and housekeeper (usually a married couple, she’d heard), instead of the footmen and the maids and gardener, who stayed down below in the basement.

  The rest of the main floor was kitchen with a breakfast nook, a large formal dining room and a couple of sitting rooms that used to be called the parlor and the den in the old days. The parlor had a fireplace that still worked, and chairs to sit and a TV in the corner too. The den had a writing desk and a few comfortable chairs, and a couple of walls were lined with bookcases of old books, along with a few old games like Monopoly and Parcheesi.

  There was another room too—what was once known as a music room with a small piano still and an old phonograph, along with vinyl records. Pictures were framed on the walls: people of past decades dancing in old-fashioned ways in old-fashioned clothes. People seldom sat in there, but sometimes someone would play the piano or listen to those old records, and Lucy just assumed it was Mr. Stanislavski.

  The rooms that shared a bathroom were cheaper, she knew, and usually occupied by men who didn’t mind having to share a bathroom with another guest, or mind the fact that they shared the rooms with other businessmen who stayed in the boarding house on a rotating basis.

  These usual tenants seemed to know who came and went, as some were regular travelers for their work. The rentals of all these spaces were quite lucrative, and so repairs were always made and the house was kept up nicely too. At least, that’s what the housekeeper said when Helen would complain about this or that.

  Lucy had no complaints; she loved this place.

  While some of the other tenants had been here for years, even the renters who came and went a week or two at a time were friendly, but kept to themselves . . . mostly. One was a traveling salesman who left out his leftover samples in case any in the house might want them. Lucy had no idea if others wanted them or not, but there was nothing of interest to her.

  She suspected that maybe those same little bottles and cartons had been there for years. Maybe sometime she’d take some to see what happened—would more magically appear?

  Lucy took the broom and dustpan up the stairs, cleaning up the muddy footprints on the way. She didn’t want to use the vacuum—it seemed too noisy for here, and she didn’t want to call attention anyway.

  As she cleaned the floor a little better than she had before, she decided as long as she was in a cleaning mood, she might as well go full out. What else is the weekend for?

  But with the smell of the baking apple crisp, her stomach wouldn’t wait long for sustenance. Maybe just a snack, she thought, and set the broom and dustpan just inside the little closet (it had been that in another life) that now served as a pantry.

  When she pulled the cord to turn on the overhead bare bulb in there, she noticed her rain boots . . . they were neatly set on some old newspaper . . . and they were muddy.

  She picked them up. A clump of mud fell off.

  She grunted out, “Huh.”

  Lucy cleaned up the mud and swept it all up, then took the broom and dustpan back to the housekeeper’s space for them. Then she took the boots to the mudroom—where they belonged. As she glanced out the little round window by the door, she could see that the kids had encroached into the garden again and were messing around the lily pad pond.

  Maybe they were the ones who had cleaned it some when they were trying to catch the frogs.

  “Well, good for them.”

  For a moment, she considered going out to introduce herself, but her stomach growled again. That reminded her that she had to go shopping for groceries today or tomorrow. And she remembered her idea about cleaning her rooms as well. As she turned to go, she knocked a big hat off the hook on the wall.

  Lucy hadn’t even noticed it before. Maybe it was something the cook has left here.

  It was plain straw, a big brimmed floppy affair—just like the kind of hat in the pictures around the house—ladies at garden parties taking tea and chatting happily and playing croquet around the lily pad pond.

  Lucy found herself smiling, and she tried it on.

  Now all I need is some long skirts and my hair rolled into a bun, and I’d fit right in, she thought.

  Mrs. Robbins caught her playing dress up. The cook said, “I have to run some errands, do some shopping for dinner and such. Want anything special, dearie?”

  “Where did this hat come from?”

  The cook shrugged. “Might be Miss Fillmore’s affair. She’s given to dressing in the old clothes for her theatrical productions. They do that during the summer—they call it the Town Playhouse. The attic room has trunks filled with old clothes, and while I’ve never been over and up there, they do say there’s old furniture and such in the Little Tower too. No harm in loaning them out.”

  Don’t need to justify it to me, Lucy thought, though it certainly sounded like Mrs. Robbins was.

  Lucy must have been daydreaming again, because she didn’t even notice that the cook had gone. But the backdoor was now open, and Mrs. Robbins was walking past the kids. They didn’t seem to be disturbed by her passing them, and Lucy figured maybe the neighborhood kids had some kind of arrangement with the owners of the boarding house.

  “To catch frogs?”

  Maybe, maybe not, but it was a shame this nice big backyard wasn’t used more.

  After the cook drove away, she heard one of the boys singing, “Round Mrs. Robin goes bob-bob-bobbing along.”

  The others just giggled.

  Lest she earn their attention and a rhyme of her own, Lucy closed the back door and got on with her own housework. She didn’t notice that she still had the big hat on.

  ~~~

  In the little pantry was also a rollout washing machine that she attached to the kitchen faucet with a hose. When you turned it on, it worked like any washing machine would, and she thoroughly enjoyed not having to do her laundry somewhere else. The dryer was rollout too, but she had to plug it in close, as it took a special socket that was part of the stove.

  Mrs. Willett said there were laundry facilities in the basement for the tenants to use, but that’s one place Lucy didn’t like to frequent. For one thing, that was four and a half flights of stairs, up and down, (though Lord knows she could use the exercise).

  She could take the backstairs too—the servants had used those stairs, she assumed. But the light wasn’t good, and they were wood, not carpeted, and sometimes people could hear if she wore shoes, and if she just wore socks, she would slip and fall. She also didn’t want to leave her privates hanging around to dry down there.

  Lucy had come up with all kinds of excuses, but turns out she didn’t need them. If she hadn’t already been enchanted with the tower suite, the washer and dryer certainly would have clinched the deal. Funny how things that most people in America took for granted could seem like such luxuries to her.

  As she sorted her dirty laundry, Lucy frowned at her socks—they were filthy . . . more so than could be explained by her own bad housekeeping, she figured. The hardwood floors were not finished very well; the planks were uneven and had once been painted over, so every time she moved furniture, flakes would scrap loose.

  She had a few thick and scattered rugs, but otherwise, the floors were bare . . . and dusty. She could pay a bit extra to have the housekeeper regularly clean in here as well, but she figured Mrs. Willett was given to snooping as well as complaining.

  It was a target tempting enough, Lucy figured, when the woman came to change the sheets. Linen service came with the rent—sheets and towels, and Lucy hadn’t bothered to get any of her own. When she got her own home that would be something to think about. Add it to the list of things that needs more money, she thought.

  Then she recalled her parent
s’ house, and everything that had been in it. She had donated all that. It had happened so fast, and now she regretted it. Would it have been too painful, using their things, having them all around?

  She thought so then, but now . . .

  No, when she first moved in, she didn’t want anyone or anything intruding on her grief, and that included the housekeeper or household goods that held memories.

  Thinking about it now . . . well, it made her wary, and she went to her drawers, just to look in.

  Nothing looked disturbed.

  What was there to disturb anyway?

  There were socks and underwear, and a few things that any woman had—perfume, talcum powder, and a jewelry box that she hadn’t opened in years . . . well, once in years. She knew her mother’s things were in there—those things she kept like a locket and some Rhinestone earrings that her mom wore to their prom. Also inside a small, carved wooden box that her father had carved in woodshop in high school was her father’s military citations and his retirement watch.

  No love letters though, no secret messages of a spy either—Lucy knew she was boring beyond belief. It didn’t do justice to these rooms—the Big Tower, indeed.

  “Finish your housework, Lucy Monroe, you are not fooling anyone. You are adept at procrastination, but shopping later can by your reward.”

  There, that would work—a bribe to do her housework. Besides, Lord knows she was sick of popcorn for dinner.

  ~~~

  The kids came running back to their house next door, where their uncle was making sandwiches.

  Excitedly, Perry said, “We saw the ghost again, Uncle Cole.”

  He said absently, “What ghost is that?”

  “The ghost next door—hey, is that peanut butter and banana?”

  “Yes, it is, I’m going to grill them. It’s good, trust me.”

  Perry said, “Mom always makes peanut butter and jelly.”

  “We used to have this when we were kids, your grandma made it every Saturday and we watched cartoons.”

  Adam, the oldest boy, said sagely, “That was before they had malls and movies to go to.”

  Cole ordered, “You boys wash up, and then set the table.”

  “Ah, that’s woman’s work.”

  “Then you’re both women today. Megan, you wash up too.”

  After they had settled down to lunch, Cole brought up what he’d been worried about most: “You boys were out of bed and out of the house last night.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I heard you come in again. What did I tell you about sneaking out? I would have yelled then, but I wanted you to get some sleep. I should have though, I didn’t sleep another wink.”

  Adam said, “The frogs were croaking again. And we saw the ghost watching us. It was creepy, at first.”

  Cole said, “Don’t tell me about ghosts anymore, that’s a pathetic excuse. Frogs, huh? Is that what happened to those jars?”

  Perry owned up: “We didn’t mean to break them.”

  Cole sighed. “You could have cut yourself. I didn’t know where you were, and I thought about calling the cops. Lucky for you I heard it all.”

  He hadn’t really, but that was a trick he’d learned from his own mom.

  Megan was studying him. She was the smartest of the three, but also the youngest. Leave it to his sister to birth a genius with red hair. That last part Megan got from her dad, Cole’s best friend in the Service, but Megan only had a fraction of the freckles . . . so far. She’d grow up to be a beauty, he as thinking, and then they’d have their hands full.

  He said to her, “You’re not eating.”

  She said, “Why didn’t you come looking for us?”

  He said, “Don’t change the subject.”

  Adam said, “Yeah, we could have been hurt or lost.”

  Perry said, “I was lost, but the ghost got me turned right way around again.”

  Cole frowned. “Which is why you shouldn’t go out.”

  Megan took a big bite and smiled with surprised delight. She then talked with her mouthful: “You knew.”

  It wasn’t a question, more like an accusation.

  He said, “Of course I knew, I followed you. I wanted to catch you in the act of whatever you were doing, but I only managed to—”

  Mostly true . . . well, partly true.

  Surprised, Adam said, “You’re one of those Special Forces guys like dad, aren’t you.”

  Cole said, “We’ve been friends a long time, your dad and I. And what do you know about any of that?”

  That didn’t sound very mature, he knew. He should have a better answer, but he wasn’t really prepared for this; he wasn’t sure anyone could. It wasn’t a secret from their mother, how her brother and now-husband met, but Geneva would have his head if she came home to the kids talking like they’d been in combat.

  Adam, the oldest, said indignantly, “ÒWe play video games.”

  Cole shook his head, but he said, “Eat your sandwich, Perry.”

  The little boy said, “I don’t want to.”

  His older brother said, “Why not? It’s good.”

  Perry said meekly, “I miss Mom.”

  Cole made him peanut butter and jelly, and that made it a little better. Then he decided to change the subject: “So tell me about this trek to the frog pond?”

  Megan started babbling about her dolls instead, how they needed long dresses and big hats, and how she’d like to have a tea party on the lawn.

  “We’d need a pair of sols,” Megan added. “Miss Mildred said they used to do it all the time when she was like me.”

  “Like you? You mean an annoying tag-along?” Adam said.

  “I was helping,” Megan said, defensively. “I found the jars.”

  “But you let them out as soon as we found them.”

  “They didn’t like it in there. You said they would, but they didn’t.”

  Adam scowled. “So now you talk frog?”

  Perry said, “You did say they’d be okay, Adam. And the jars got kind of heavy too, and that’s why she dropped them. And you did say she could come along.”

  “I said she could come if she’d just shut up, and—”

  Cole said, “That’s enough, Adam, you’re grounded.”

  “Ah.”

  Cole added, “That means no more video games for a week.”

  “Man!”

  Perry said, “Ha-ha.”

  “Same goes for you,” Cole added, trying not to ruin it by laughing.

  “Can I be grounded too?” Megan asked.

  Cole lost it, but hid it with the leftovers of Perry’s peanut butter and banana sandwich. The boys groaned, and Cole knew she didn’t get the point of the punishment, or even that it was punishment. She just wanted to hang around her brothers. He’d been the same way when Geneva was with her friends—when they were kids.

  Later on, he wanted to hang with them because they were older girls.

  He said, “You kids shouldn’t go out at night. If she found out, what do you think your mom would do?”

  The kids looked at each other, and both Perry’s and Megan’s eyes got a little big. Then they ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

  Finally Megan said, “Something spells good.”

  “Smells, good, dummy,” Perry said.

  “It does,” Adam said. “What is it?”

  Cole said, “Doesn’t your mother make you things like that?”

  “What is it?” they said again, together.

  He said, “Smells like baking apples, maybe a pie. That old house next door has some good smells coming out sometimes. Who lives there, do you know?”

  Perry said, “Lots of people do, Mom calls it a boring house.”

  “Boarding house, dummy,” Adam said.

  “Oh, I get it. So who is Miss Mildred?” Cole asked. “Does she live over there? Is she the one who cooks?”

  The boys looked to their little sister.

  Cole said, “Megan?”


  She mumbled, “You said not to talk about the ghost.”

  ~~~

  It didn’t take long after lunch for the kids to run out of steam. Cole turned off the TV and put blankets over them there in the family room. Megan had her stuffed animal, a little pony, and Perry had his racecar.

  Cole had been stationed overseas with their father even when two of the kids were being born. It was hard on his sister, Geneva, but she was tough as nails when she had to be. He admired her strength.

  She was a good sister, but a great mom, and he wanted to reassure her that leaving the kids for a few months so that she could have some time with her husband—their father—was not selfish at all. Only Geneva would think that, but she was that kind of person. He was lucky to have her, so was Ben.

  The time now would almost be like a long honeymoon that they never got. Even so, they’d only convinced her to go when Cole volunteered to move in. Given he was planning on going back to college, which he’d put on hold for his military tours, it didn’t matter so much where he did it, or even when.

  He wasn’t quite sure yet what he wanted to study either, though he had some ideas, so this was a good solution for all concerned. Ben was going to make the military his career; he’d gotten a promotion and a transfer, and after this tour, he’d be in the States for quite a bit.

  They’d seen some rough times together—Ben and Cole. It was instant friendship when they first met, but with Geneva and Ben it had been love at first sight. That was ten years ago, and the world had marched far past from where the two men began.

  It was also a pretty tough job—parenting. He hoped he didn’t let them down, so decided to talk to Genie and Ben about the kids going out at night. He figured it wasn’t the first time either, given how easily they had done so, and maybe his sister knew how to deal with it.