Wet Confetti

By Jenn Shell

Rolled, silver white hair created a halo about the woman's head. The lamplight cast oblique shadows on her delicate, high cheekbones. Above the cheekbones, her eyes were ice blue and steady, belying the eighty years of this statuesque woman. Her demeanor exhibited and commanded an aura of aristocracy.

Kathleen's throat tightened and felt dry. She trembled slightly as she spoke. She was a reasonably intelligent, thirty-eight-year-old woman quite capable of comprehending all that had been depicted and yet, the shocking concept of the old woman's claim was loathsome and incredulous. Acceptance of such cruel allegations against her grandmother, whom she so admired, was totally denied.

In this emotionally charged family saga, Kathleen is shocked to learn of her grandmother's wicked past from her Great Aunt Rose. As if the shocking revelations aren't hard enough for Kathleen to deal with, she is forced to make a decision that will determine the course of her future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 27, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595788088

Jenn Shell

JENN SHELL is the author of Wet Confetti, Purple Gold, and Destiny’s Gamble and has published in The National Library of Poetry. Her lifelong passion for books and history is the catalyst that embarked her on the journey of writing. Originally from Pennsylvania, an avid golfer, she now calls Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, home.

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WET CONFETTI

101815_text.pdf

Jenn Shell

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

WET CONFETTI

Copyright © 2005 by Dolores M. Hess

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, dialogue, and plot are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-34021-7 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-67054-3 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-78808-8 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-34021-0 (pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-67054-7 (cloth)

ISBN-10: 0-595-78808-4 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

Dedicated to Kelliann and John, without whose patience, understanding and encouragement, this book would not have been written.

And to…Annette, Annmarie and Theresa.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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Evert Baird, for making me the recipient of his computer expertise.

Joyce Baird, for sharing in my excitement.

Janet and Donald Titley, for their perceptive suggestions.

Friends, too numerous to mention, for their moral support.

And, of course, for my best friend and husband, john butler, for always being there for me.

CHAPTER 1

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Visiting Aunt Rose as a child was a pleasurable experience. Visiting her as a grown woman, today, was not. There was a chill in the air. It was autumn, 1950. As Kathleen sat in the quiet, dimly lit room, she felt highly uncomfortable. She was not sure why she was here. The invitation was vague, expressing only an urgent matter regarding the family and she was beginning to regret her acceptance. The silence was getting louder when, finally, to Kathleen’s relief, the woman spoke.

There was something evil about my sister, Aunt Rose lamented in a low, cold voice. We always knew it. Even as a child, she was different from the rest of us. Despite her beauty and charm, she was a wicked conniver who used her cunning to delude people. But her family members were not as easily deceived. They knew the truth. They knew the real Ellie. They knew that deep inside, she was ugly and mean-spirited.

Shocked, it was not what Kathleen had expected to hear. Momentarily, she wanted to revert to the undesirable deafening silence just broken.

Kathleen’s eyes followed the pattern on the carpeting across the wide room to the figure of the woman who had just vocalized this cruel accusation. The woman was seated in a handsome, well-polished, high back mahogany chair with her long, slender, fingers resting on the chair’s time worn arms. She was dressed in a smart, navy blue, wool suit. Under the short-waist jacket, she wore a white, silk blouse with ruffles at its neck and cuffs. When she used her hands to help emphasize what she was saying, the ruffles seemed to play hide-and-seek with the jacket; appearing and disappearing with each movement. Her earrings, featuring a tiny, delicate pearl in the center surrounded by a circle of gold filigree, were exquisite. Kathleen wondered how this softly dressed woman could voice such hard words.

Rolled, silver white hair created a halo about the woman’s head. The lamplight cast oblique shadows on her delicate, high cheekbones. Above the cheekbones, her eyes were ice blue and steady, belying the eighty years of this statuesque woman. Her demeanor exhibited and commanded an aura of aristocracy.

Kathleen’s throat tightened and felt dry. She trembled slightly as she spoke. She was a reasonably intelligent, thirty-eight-year-old woman, quite capable of comprehending all that had been depicted and, yet, the shocking concept of the old woman’s claim was loathsome and incredulous. Acceptance of such cruel allegations against her grandmother, whom she so admired, was totally denied.

This is incredible, Aunt Rose. I don’t understand, Kathleen exclaimed in confusion and frustration.

Grandmother O’Doyle was amazing. She was good to me. She assumed all responsibilities for my upbringing, raising me as her very own.

Kathleen was hurt and angry. She felt betrayed. How dare this self-righteous, old biddy, sit smugly and rob her of her Grandmother’s cherished memory? How dare she even plant a seed of doubt? Kathleen’s stomach churned and her voice quivered as her eyes flashed a fiery, caustic look of disgust at the old woman. Her insolence was accompanied by guilt, but her desperate need to defend her grandmother’s altruism overpowered that emotion, compelling her to continue with her argument.

Grandmother O’Doyle took the place of the mother I scarcely knew and lovingly tended to my every need. For that matter, she doubled as a father to me, too, when my own father disappeared. She was there for me when no other person wanted me. She was there for me when no other person was even so much as concerned about me. Kathleen was aware of the bitterness in her voice as it grew loud and adamant.

She was a tenacious woman full of courage and foresight. She was, to me, a pillar of strength and I pride myself in being just like her.

Thinking how utterly misguided the young woman was, Aunt Rose sat silently staring at her. It was not the time to interrupt. Soon enough, she would learn the truth. For now, it was important that Kathleen purge herself of this ridiculous perception once and for all. With that thought, the old woman whose lips stretched thin as they were pulled tightly across her teeth, held her tongue.

Kathleen relinquished a long, trembling sigh and spoke with absolute conviction. I dearly loved my mother, Grandmother O’Doyle. I hold unwavering respect for her and I treasure the indelible mark she left on my mind and in my heart.

She bit her lip as her thoughts were suddenly diverted. Desertion! She shuddered as, once more, without warning, the pain from her dreaded inner fear, returned to haunt her. She knew and felt first-hand that anguish from which one never fully recovers; that life-long insecurity which stems from deliberate desertion. Her heart raced. Her palms were clammy. Her stomach was in knots. Abandonment hurts. She closed her eyes for just a minute and temporarily escaped that harsh reality which she so detested but could not deny. Now, it had rudely interrupted her attempt to convince Aunt Rose of her grandmother’s benevolence.

Kathleen could feel her anger deepening. Her Great Aunt just sat rigid, regal and totally emotionless. Despite Kathleen’s positive input, her Great Aunt, obviously, had not been persuaded. Kathleen concluded that, like the hearty oak, her Aunt Rose did not bend easily and this impasse began to nibble at Kathleen’s inner strength. She heaved an enormous sigh and determined not to let it be totally devoured. She had to know why her Aunt Rose was so set in her prejudice against her Grandmother.

There must be some mistake. Kathleen was defensive and outspoken in her conviction. You are wrong about my Grandmother. How can you say such vile things about your own sister? There must be some terrible misunderstanding, a quarrel, perhaps rivalry, maybe jealousy—something! Something had to have occurred, but what? What possibly could have happened between the two of you so horrific that it could never be reconciled? The faster Kathleen talked, the faster she became discouraged. She realized the weakness of her assumptions. Still, she persisted.

Please, Aunt Rose, think back. It is so important. I need an answer. What was the misunderstanding?

Aunt Rose’s voice was crisp and her tongue, sharp. There was absolutely no misunderstanding. In fact, if anything, I understood the matter much too well! Believe me, my sister Ellie was, not only an evil, cruel woman; she was heartless. Her next remark was even more shocking, but was made as dispassionately as thought the speaker was simply announcing the time of day. I have hated her for as long as I can remember.

Too stunned to reply, Kathleen could feel her eyes stinging from the hot tears that began to fill them. She refused to cry. She would not give her Great

Aunt that satisfaction. Fighting for a distraction, she folded her hands in her lap and surveyed the large room in which she was seated in company with this cold, miserable woman; her father’s aunt. Sometimes, when Kathleen was distressed, she mentally trimmed and untrimmed her Christmas tree with all her favorite ornaments. It was creative, relaxing, and was a successful diversion. Taking in the surroundings of this beautiful room served the same purpose. It began to help calm her frayed nerves.

Forest green draperies were partially drawn across the broad high windows and a handsome, red Persian rug stretched the full length and breadth of this lovely room. She listened to the quiet. The outside city sounds were completely muffled by the thick stone walls of this enormous house. Truly a Victorian Island, she thought, a Victorian Island surrounded by a modern city.

All of a sudden, she felt something electric and frightening in the air of it and she found herself wishing that she had not come to this place at all. It would have been better to have kept the gentle memory of her childhood visit of years ago. She shuddered, then, quickly reverted to her escape mechanism. For now, her inner panic dissipated.

She saw that each chair and sofa was covered with fine rich fabric. Velvets, tapestries, brocades, all of simple elegance, were everywhere. There even was a long library table, complete with a green-shaded Banker’s Lamp. It had been years since Kathleen had seen one. Intricate designs were carved on every piece of furniture; carvings that required tedious work just to keep them dusted. Kathleen smiled as she mused about her own gratitude. To her, dusting was a monotonous, thankless chore. She pitied the one who had to do it but was glad that she was not that pitied one.

Suddenly, a sound interrupted her musings and a flash of motion caught her eye. A large, gray-striped cat bounded into the room. It sprang to the admired library table and just sat there, preening and purring in the contour of the Banker’s Lamp light. Two more cats, alike as kernels of corn followed it. One leaped onto the lap of the old woman. The other writhed and rubbed against her feet, making muted sounds.

Kathleen’s Great Aunt lovingly stroked the animal on her lap. She whispered, My babies, and proudly introduced them to Kathleen who could not help but note that her Great Aunt’s first display of warmth, since her arrival, was bestowed on cats.

That’s Queen Victoria, there on the table and Prince Albert is the one on the floor and this beauty is Princess Vicky, Aunt Rose, with her head held high proudly, announced. Indeed they are a royal family and life would not be worthwhile for me without them. But you, Kathleen, do not care for cats, do you? She asked in a demeaning tone, watching Kathleen closely while waiting for her reply.

Kathleen, in turn, watched her Great Aunt closely. She noticed the old woman’s face was dry and lined. She noticed, too, that the woman barely had any lips at all; just a thin slash for her mouth. Looking at the old woman, Kathleen came to a peculiar conclusion. Aunt Rose, herself, had a feline look. She surmised that it had come from too many years of living with cats and she sighed, a silent, ugh.

Well, Aunt Rose, I don’t dislike them. I just don’t like them as much as I like dogs. But then, we are all different in our preferences.

Although cats were not Kathleen’s favorite animals, nor favorite topic of discussion for that matter, she was glad for the opportunity to talk about them or anything else unrelated to their prior conversation. That had been so agonizing. She deeply resented the attack on her Grandmother O’Doyle’s character.

To Kathleen’s regret, the respite was short lived. Aunt Rose’s face expressed annoyance with Kathleen’s attempt at an unbiased answer, but she pursued the cat subject no further, returning instead to the pressing matter at hand, her sister.

Mama knew about Ellie, Aunt Rose’s sharp voice cut into Kathleen’s thoughts.

Ellie was only two-years-old when our Mama and Papa came to this country. Mama kept the dark secret locked in her heart. I am saddened and angered still when I think of the many painful years that Ellie caused Mama to endure. Time and continuing misfortunes increased the weight of the heavy burden until Mama’s heart could no longer carry it alone. In her later years, she was finally forced to relinquish it and she did just that. She never told Papa. She never broke that promise which she had made to herself years ago. With tired, drooping shoulders, she took me into her confidence. Aunt Rose sat transfixed, deep in her reflections, methodically stroking her cat. Kathleen, although apprehensive about her aunt’s forthcoming words, still held her breath in anticipation. She did not, however, dare interfere with this private, almost reverent, moment and fell into a waiting silence.

The chiming of the magnificent and faithful Grandfather clock, standing tall in the vestibule, melodiously announced the hour. Its unexpected invasion of the quiet also startled Kathleen and terminated Aunt Rose’s profound reflections. She offered neither apology nor explanation for the time lapse. She simply picked up from where she had left off.

For a long time, I fought my own personal battle against Ellie. Therefore, what Mama told me only served to vindicate my hatred.

A shiver ran up Kathleen’s spine and goose bumps mounted on her arms.

She told me the shocking secret which she had concealed for so many years.

Kathleen’s head was pounding. If only she could get some aspirin. This suspense was killing her—no, this old lady was killing her. She wondered if the secret involving her Grandmother was the reason why she was sitting here today, trying desperately to ward off a full-blown migraine.

With three horrendous words, Aunt Rose’s melodrama crescendoed and the secret was divulged.

Ellie is demonic. They were the very words Mama used at the time. She told me that she had lived with terror; perpetually afraid of, and afraid for, her first-born girl child. She was absolutely convinced that Ellie had been born deprived of a conscience; capable of any act. Mama’s extraordinary efforts failed to awaken, in Ellie, any sense of guilt for wrong doings. As long as it was beneficial to her, no matter what Ellie had to do, she considered her hands clean; poor Mama.

The empathy, emanating from her cold-blooded aunt, as she talked about her own mother’s distress, seemed totally incongruent.

It pained her so to watch Ellie cultivate her manipulative skills. It pained her so to think who would be next on the receiving end of Ellie’s wrath, for despite the anguish endured, Mama loved her first-born girl child and prayed for her safety. Mama’s heart was engulfed in pain. She lived with it, and with the fear of exposure, day in and day out. She lived with it until, finally, her sanity demanded that she tell someone.

To underscore the endless duration of her mother’s suffering, Aunt Rose exaggerated the words—day in and day out—and like elastic, when she spoke them, they were drawn out and stretched long.

Kathleen’s face turned ashen. She bit her lip, shut her eyes, and lowered her head. Tears rained down her pale cheeks. She could not get past that frightful, hideous word, Aunt Rose had used to describe her Grandmother. Demonic! Demonic? Why, she thought, her Grandmother was just the opposite! What was wrong with this person? Was Aunt Rose just a cruel, old woman or was she the one who was insane? Why was she trying to destroy Grandmother’s reputation? Like thunder, questions rumbled noisily in Kathleen’s head as she grew more confused and angry in her search for valid answers. She gave serious consideration to just running out and away from this dreadful person. Unfortunately, her petrified mind and body did not permit it. She did not move and the formidable word continued to scream loudly in her head; demonic, demonic, demonic!

Her reaction drew no mercy from Aunt Rose, who ruthlessly pressed on in her determination to complete this portion of the family chronicle. Kathleen was still at a loss as to why.

Mama, with tears in her eyes, revealed that Ellie was always a callous, remorseless person, who had an untamable wildness about her. A wildness; regrettably, that brought a curse upon every life that came close to hers, and our precious brother, Johnnie, was her first victim. At this point, the bitterness in Aunt Rose’s voice was clear and intense.

Kathleen shivered in her fright. She so wanted to escape the clutches of her thick-skinned Great Aunt. But there was, about this strange, old woman, a quality of strength, which seemed to sap her own. Kathleen had no desire to listen to more of Aunt Rose’s charges, but she was utterly exhausted in her ability to leave or even to protest. She tried to mentally fortify herself against this fresh assault. Surprisingly, however; the attack was diverted for, suddenly, and without warning, Aunt Rose’s demeanor changed. There was now a softness about her. It could be seen in her eyes and heard in her voice. Her entire body seemed to relax. It seemed to have taken on an air of compassion, which served only to add to Kathleen’s confusion. How could she be so cold and callous one minute, and seemingly warm and concerned, the next? What in the world is wrong with this person? Kathleen questioned, and answered herself in silence. Maybe she suffers from dementia. Placing her index finger over her mouth, Kathleen nervously tapped it against her lips and slowly shook her head skeptically. I feel like I am riding on a roller coaster. Up, down, up, down. I wish it would stop. I wish Aunt Rose would let me get off. I wish I had stayed home. But her time for wishful thinking was over as a now soft-spoken Rose began her deliberation.

Kathleen, before I go on any further to disclose all that is needed for you to know about your Grandmother, I must explain the importance of your visit. I shall keep you in suspense no longer. The rationale behind my invitation is quite simple, really. You see, my dear, you and I are the last surviving members of the Grady family and when my dear Julius passed away, I also became the sole survivor of the Marlowe family. With the inheritance of the Grady fortune and that of my dear husband’s, I have become a very wealthy woman. After Julius died, it was my plan, with my demise, to leave the proceeds from all this—she arched her hands around the room—to the benefit of cats. She smiled delighting in the element of shock she inflicted and fingered the lace jabot at her throat. Waiting a respectable length of time to let her intention sink in, she proceeded with her explanation. Proudly, she announced: I am chairperson of the board at the City Animal Shelter and my money could forever support the good health and comfort of numerous cats there. But in view of the sum involved, my attorney, who is also my good friend, has asked me to reconsider and, in deference to his request, I have. That is why you are here. You, my dear girl, stand to inherit an immense estate.

Kathleen found this unexpected, out of context, announcement to be both frightening and provocative. It more than shocked her. It was more than astounding. The prediction was preposterous and unimaginable and yet, at the same time, she found herself thinking of its possibility. The thought of it was definitely exhilarating. Feeling quite flustered, Kathleen reached for her glass of water. Her intention to take but a sip failed as her nervousness forced her to quickly drink its entire contents. Putting the empty glass down, she gave Aunt Rose her undivided attention as she listened intently for her forthcoming words. She did not have to wait long, as Aunt Rose was more than ready and anxious to comply.

To gain such wealth, Kathleen, you will have a price to pay. You will have to abide and adhere to a few, shall we say, unexpected stipulations. These prerequisites are not pleasant, I am afraid, but the conditions of agreement must be honored. Without so much as taking a breath, she continued. Even an old cat worshiper like myself has some conscience. I think I have lulled mine into silence long enough. There is a time to be born and a time to die and, as my dear mother said so often, this, I think, is the time to speak!

Ironically, watching and waiting for Kathleen’s reaction, the old woman stopped talking. Kathleen, stunned and unsure of her reaction, temporarily sat dazed. Then as the enormity of its meaning began to sink in, her head, filled with the concept’s plausibility, began to ache. Oh, my goodness, her inner voice repeated over and over, oh, my goodness. Doubting her hearing ability, she questioned herself. Did I hear Aunt Rose correctly? Am I really going to be rich? This is absolutely amazing. I cannot believe it. Maybe I was premature in my negative judgment of this benevolent woman.

Kathleen’s thought process raced and filled her with a gamut of emotions; excitement, optimism, reassurance, relief, solace, and even trust followed by, but not dominated with, an element of disbelief. It would be the solution I have been seeking. All my problems would be solved. Her spirits soared exuberantly.

Oh, my goodness, this would eradicate our financial problems. Charles would no longer be burdened by his business problem. Even better than that, Charles would never have need of the bottle, ever. It would mean, truly, we would be husband and wife again, without worries. The very thought of reconciliation and harmony restored made Kathleen giddy with anticipation. Her heart pounded loudly. So much so, she feared the thundering noise would reach Aunt Rose’s ears.

Remain calm, remain calm, she kept telling herself. Be rational. Remember, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. What about those conditions? I cannot imagine what the stipulations could be, but they cannot possibly be all that bad. I am sure I can conform to them no matter what they are. I’m flexible. Oh, my goodness, Charles and I are going to be so much more than comfortable. Oh, my goodness! She wanted to shout it out. Again, she had trouble containing her excitement. Again, she reminded herself to remain calm.

She inhaled deeply, in an attempt to relax, and repeated the instruction to herself. Just stay calm. Let Aunt Rose speak. Oh, for goodness sake, please Aunt Rose, speak! How ironic, Kathleen thought. She wanted nothing more than Aunt Rose’s silence when her Aunt talked about her Grandmother and now, she actually held her breath in anticipation of what the old woman had to say. Please spit it out—now. She could hardly wait.

Aunt Rose’s tone was sincere. I try to keep abreast of the business world, at least in terms of what you and Charles own, and I was saddened to learn of the recent unfortunate turn of events that have befallen you. Too bad the competition is so keen. You see, Kathleen, I have the way to remedy your financial burdens. If you accept my terms, you will receive one quarter of the estate now. The rest of the fortune would be yours at the time of my demise. I have not seen you, Kathleen, since your wedding and that was—Aunt Rose paused and searched her memory to no avail. Finally, she asked, how long ago?

Ten years, Kathleen supplied the answer. Charles and I were married ten years last June.

And a lovely wedding is was. Aunt Rose reminisced. After your wedding ceremony, Julius and I left immediately, for we had no wish to see your Grandmother or to even be in her company. But it was, indeed, a beautiful wedding and you were a lovely bride. Your gown was exquisite and I remember your Charles looked so full of pride.

Her words jolted Kathleen’s thoughts. The need to protect her Grandmother’s memory was once again, strong.

Kathleen desperately wanted to scream out, my Grandmother was the one who made me look lovely. My Grandmother was the one who made my beautiful gown. Yes, the very gown you complimented was created by the sister you hated. Your sister made my wedding gown because she loved me! Fighting against her longing to cry out, Kathleen held back her words and simply whispered.

Indeed, our wedding day was one not to be forgotten and since that time, we have had a good life together. That is, Aunt Rose, until our present troubles and time will work them out. As quickly as the words came out, Kathleen had wished for their return.

She had not meant to mention her personal concerns nor did she want to invite further questions. She need not have worried. If her Aunt had even a faintest inkling, she did not acknowledge it. She appeared to be cognizant of only the couple’s financial difficulties. Fortunately, she seemed unaware of the others. For now, all Kathleen wanted to hear was what she had to do to qualify for the money.

As suddenly as Rose’s soft demeanor arrived, it disappeared. Her voice became harsh now and without so much as a blink of the eye, Aunt Rose declared. The conditions which you must accept are but two. To be set financially for the rest of your life, you need only to denounce your Grandmother, then through clinched teeth, she spit out the word, forever.

Kathleen was having credibility issues today. Once again, she could not believe what she was hearing.

Secondly, if you have children of your own or by adoption, you are forbidden to use the name Eleanor or any derivative there of.

The bombshell dropped, Aunt Rose slowly stood up and excused herself. Think about it. No need to answer now. In fact, I will not accept a decision before I finish telling you about my sister. But now, I am rather tired and need to rest for a bit. I suggest you do the same. It is pleasant in the library. Edgar will show you the way.

With that, Aunt Rose left the numbed Kathleen there in a frozen stupor. The steel edged sound of the old woman’s voice rattled around in her brain. Once again, Kathleen wished she had stayed home where she belonged with her Charles. She missed him and wondered how he was doing.

Charles. Despite their problems, she loved him more than ever. She sat down in a leather upholstered wingchair and was glad for its protective high sides shielding her from both the room’s draft and Aunt Rose’s coolness.

Emotionally drained, she stared at the velvet-like pattern on the flocked wallpaper. Her eyes locked on the design, her mind drifted to the only two people who had ever really loved her; her husband and her grandmother.

CHAPTER 2

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She thought about her life. What a journey it had been so far and now, she wondered in what direction her voyage would take her.

She remembered that day years ago, when she first went to live with her Grandmother.

Come here, little one. Come, let me look at you and, do smile. This is a joyous occasion. It is not everyday that a little girl gets to dwell with her Grandmother. You are very fortunate, Kathleen. Ellie’s voice was firm with just a hint of warmth.

Brushing the wrinkles from the front of Kathleen’s dress with the palm of her hand, Ellie thought about her current situation. How could her son walk out on his child? That Michael also walked out on his wife, mattered not to Ellie. In Ellie’s opinion, Clara was from the wrong side of the tracks. How her son could seriously get involved with the likes of her, was beyond Ellie’s comprehension. Clara, after all, was below her son’s station in life. No wonder their marriage failed. It never occurred to her that she might have been a major part of the problem.

Ellie thought to herself. Why is it I am the only one who knows what to do? Why can’t anyone else in this family stand up? Must I always be the one to handle all the responsibilities? Why, where would this child be if I had not stepped in? Her mother certainly did not want her. All she ever cared about was money. She certainly jumped at the offer I made. I cannot imagine a mother selling her child. As for the child’s empty-headed, spineless, father, well, he is totally worthless and, just like his father before him; when the chips were down, what did he do? He ran. He abandoned this little girl.

That it was wrong for a Grandmother to stoop so low as to make such a monetary offer, never entered Ellie’s mind.

Sit here, dear, and drink this nice glass of milk. The suggestion, made in a kind, reassuring voice, came from Agnes, who was Ellie’s right-hand assistant and soon to be, Kathleen’s nanny.

The frightened and confused girl took the glass. She held it between her two little hands. She sipped it and the coolness of the milk made her feel a little better. Today had been so confusing to her. Yesterday, she was at her house with her mother and father and today, she was in her Grandmother’s house to stay. She never even visited here very often. She did not understand. All she knew was that she must have done something very naughty to make her mother and father, go away. She just didn’t know what that was and she did not know what she had done to make her mother and father stop loving her and she could not stop crying.

Too young, Kathleen had no way of knowing that she was not the cause for her parents’ departure. She only knew that they were gone, and she was sad. She knew, too, that her Grandmother loved her because her Grandmother told her so and her Grandmother gave her ginger cookies and they were very good.

Despite the shaky beginning, growing up in that big house with her Grandmother, Kathleen was happy in her security. She never saw, in her Grandmother, what others did.

She never knew that it was Ellie’s self-admiration and conceit which dictated her decision to embrace Kathleen in adoption.

Finally, after so many years, Ellie had a girl to raise. She had the perfect avenue to better flaunt her talents. With the little girl, she could do so with bravado.

In Ellie’s eyes, her son, like his father before him, had run out on his responsibilities. But in doing so, this time, her son Michael unknowingly provided Ellie with exactly what she had always wanted, a girl. Not the girl, herself, but having a girl was Ellie’s only concern. She gave Kathleen the same conditional love that she gave her sons. Kathleen had to be a reflection of Ellie’s very being.

It was Sunday, Kathleen’s favorite day of the week, when neither her Grandmother nor her nanny worked. Attendance at church was mandatory. Her Grandmother would have it no other way. Then the rest of the day belonged to them to do whatever they so desired. It never occurred to Kathleen that the choice of activities was always her Grandmother’s. She was just glad for the benefit of the activity and time spent together.

Grandmother, you never miss going to church. Why do you go?

What a silly question, young lady. I go because it is what God wants.

Adjusting the tilt of her new hat to sit more to the left side of her head, Ellie thought—and, it is what I want. Why, I am my own best advertisement. Turning her head from side to side to better appreciate her beauty, she continued with her line of thinking. Just look at me. When I walk in, every head turns. Obviously, the men in the congregation like what they see and the women envision themselves in my latest fashion. My designs won’t ever give them my beauty but their thinking that it will, lines my pockets beautifully. The proof of the pudding is found on Monday. For that is the day when the women rush to my shop to place their orders of what was viewed at church. They cannot get to my shop soon enough and they spare no expense. Walking to our pew, hand in hand, Kathleen and I are the center of attention. Seeing Kathleen, dressed in only the very best, prompts the women to have similar dresses made for their own daughters. No one makes a better fitting garment than I do and no one makes better models than the two of us.

Yes, we must always go to church. It is so good for business. It is what God wants, indeed.

Kathleen accepted the given reason and pressed ahead. She was eager to learn the plans of the day. After church, what are we going to do today, Grandmother?

How would you like to go to the zoo?

Oh, Grandmother, I would like that very much. It will be so much fun. Grandmother, you are the best. Kathleen, grinning from ear to ear, gave her Grandmother a hug around her waist. Kathleen thought her Grandmother was not only wonderful but beautiful and she wanted to grow up to be just like her.

The little girl, the Grandmother and the nanny all enjoyed the day filled with the antics of the menagerie. Over the years, the adventures of their Sunday outings never failed them.

On Mondays, Kathleen always got herself ready and out to school. She knew better than to ever disturb her Grandmother on a Monday.

Now, in the tenth grade, she was a good student and most definitely, the best dressed one in the school. She was admired by many; envied by others. She, herself, did not know what the fuss was all about. She had grown up wearing only the best. She knew nothing else.

She remembered when she was in about fourth or fifth grade, even the boys in her class looked at her in a different way. It was her clothes then that seemed to draw them to her, although they were as a target of ridicule.

They would ask her where she got that big, ugly, bow on the back of her dress or better still, they would sneak a tug on it and then run away as it was left to unravel. She and her girl friends had agreed that teasing was their way of showing how much they liked her. Kathleen decided they must have really liked her a lot back then, for she was forever tripping over a free hanging sash. Pestering was a sure sign. Sometimes she liked the attention but then sometimes she wished the boys would just grow up. It was funny to think about it now.

Of course, Charles Pike never did that. He was always grown up. At eighteen, two years older than Kathleen, Charles was already in the last grade of high school, at a time when not too many young men finished school. With his broad shoulders, black, curly, hair and corn-flower blue eyes, just his smile brought a rosy color to Kathleen’s cheeks. Too bad, he had never pulled at her bow. Except for an occasional hello in the school halls, he didn’t even know she was alive. Fortunately, for Kathleen, her nonexistent status changed unexpectedly. It happened one Saturday afternoon.

Bogged down with homework, Kathleen decided to take a short break. She sat on a wicker chair in her bedroom and looked into her vanity mirror. She liked what she saw. Turning her head slowly from side to side, she inspected her features. There, on her left cheek of her oval shaped face, was a single dimple that deepened whenever she smiled. She thought it was unique and, except for her blond hair and blue eyes, people said she looked exactly like her Grandmother. This pleased her, to no end. She thought her Grandmother, with her auburn hair and gray green eyes was the epitome of beauty. Contented with her conclusion, Kathleen got up and went down to the back porch.

Sitting on the glider, she gently rocked it back and forth. She was enjoying her temporary reprieve and suddenly, there he was. She could not believe her eyes. Caught off guard, she came off almost as being annoyed.

What are you doing here? she questioned in an unintentionally sharp tone.

"Delivering your Grandmother’s grocery order