Ready or not, here comes the final installment of Chapter 1. Just in case you are new to my blog, or have been out of the loop, scroll back two weeks and start at the beginning of the novel, working title, Mrs. Hendricks and Company. Here is the last of the beginning chapter. There is much I am still intrigued with and am sorting out but as I mentioned, both Mrs. Hendricks and this new ‘assistant’ of hers are most certainly haunting me until I get their story straight. Another perk, there are no politics here, only drama.

“I’m working for your mother. She hired me yesterday, since I’m between jobs, you know, perfect timing for me. I wonder where Beth is?” with that I turned hoping all would be ended there in the semi-light, and he would return to his party. 

“Beth? You know Beth? Hired to do what exactly,” he placed a hand on my elbow. But that is when we both saw what appeared to be a floating apparition descending the stairs. Mrs. Hendricks wore a shimmering caftan, which billowed all around her, one hand with her glowing cigarette snug in its ebony holder lighting the way, the other jeweled and bangled with apricot lacquered nails feathering the banister. She had been looking down towards her kitten-heeled feet, but as she was about to descend the last few steps she halted momentarily and looked straight ahead, as if to muster herself for a grander entrance.

“Mother, are you joining us? What splendid news!” He released me so abruptly as to almost push me aside reaching his mother as she landed the last three steps. I stood as I was, half in the darkness, half in the light while others, aware that the matriarch had arrived, began to file past me. The matching brother and several girls in tow all chatting at once. Peter too of course. But Valerie stayed a few paces behind. She looked at her mother, steeling herself for what was to come next. I could see just a bit of the upper railing on the second floor and there stood Beth, unnoticed by all else down below. Her face matched her sisters. They were waiting for the outcome and unsure what it would be on this night. But judging from my brief and singular experience with their mother, I was certain she would command them all within seconds. 

“Chuck dear, a martini please, and darling make it dirty but no olives, I’m on a diet,” and with that everyone laughed. She leaned toward them all to give a kiss in the air toward each cheek lowered in her direction. I thought the gaggle of girls just might curtsy while gushing with platitudes. Chuck dear stopped his grilling of me and went to the bar to fix his mother a drink while the others swept her right past me. The big unveiling was delayed yet again, but Beth caught my eye and she waved me toward her. A sober onlooker, perhaps the only one not ready to throw me to the streets, she, I told myself, might be a better ally than her sister. I quietly stole up the stairs and followed Beth as she turned back into her bedroom. 

Her room was not as spacious as her mother’s but large enough for a four poster bed, complete with drapes that matched those that covered her windows. There was a long dresser against the wall with a small mirror and several family photos lining the delicately papered wall above, all of a very different decade. Near the windows was a small sitting area with a desk and bookcase, both looked like Beth had brought those in herself. Perhaps even a bit mismatched from the carved and elaborate furniture set that dominated the rest of the room. I left the door open as I entered and the music and laughter shot right up the stairs and into the space. This was no refuge for her, that was certain. 

“So Sylvia, is that your real name, or just something my sister settled on while interrogating you earlier?” Even through her thick glasses I could see she meant to seek out the truth. But I was equally settled on only giving her or anyone the information I wanted to share.

“Please, call me Sylvie, that’s what my friends call me. You’re Beth, right? After we met last night your mother offered me the apartment and a job, so here I am.” 

“I see you met my sister over there,” her head nodding in the direction of the garage, “and no doubt Peter hot on her tail?” she revealed a slight smile at that thought. “I bet they were disappointed to find their trist interrupted.”

“Well, yeah, I did meet them as they came to the apartment. I guess they noticed the light or something. But nothing more than that,” I was staring at the weave of the carpet.

“You’ve been here less than an afternoon and already lying for my sister? Well fine, no matter to me. She’s slept with just about every friend my brothers bring here, and strays she finds, and we both know it. I am not sure who she is hiding that information from, perhaps it gives her dignity while everyone calls her a whore anyways. But enough about her. What type of work did my mother mention you might be doing?”

Standing there I realized I still had little information beyond helping her with daily tasks.  Certainly this conversation could go in a million directions. I could invent any work I wanted to do, after all who would deny it? But it needed to sound like something I was remotely qualified to do, which wasn’t much. 

“Your mother asked me to sit with her for a few hours of the day. Read her the newspaper, help her with her affairs, you know, like a personal assistant.” I had lifted my gaze and proclaimed all of this with as much surety as a person could while bold faced lying. 

“Hum, is that what Val told you to say? My mother hasn’t even looked at a newspaper since, well forever. She gave up the Business section a decade ago, and doesn’t even read the Arts section anymore. But okay, for the sake of conversation, let’s say you’re here to read her the headlines, what else will you do with your day? My brothers like having that apartment available for a trist, as much as my sister does, after all, where do you think my father screwed the nanny? That’s all that place has ever been. They will not rest until you are gone. But maybe you came at the right time. They are headed to Europe for the next few weeks. By then who knows what will happen with you.” She was sitting now. Lifting papers on her desk, as if looking for something. “What did the advertisement in the paper say?”

I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket. “Here. It doesn’t say much.”  I handed her the advertisement and took a seat by the window. “Small jobs, so here I am,” trying to muster a big smile.

“Sure yeah, small jobs, but what I wonder. Didn’t you ask when you met her last night? And don’t tell me the newspaper story again. We have a cook who also does the cleaning, we have a gardener who also does all sorts of repairs, and every few months my father seems to be sending someone over to make sure his property is up to snuff. I can’t imagine who even placed this ad. It wasn’t me, and you’ve met my mother, she hasn’t even made a phone call on her own in forever. What exactly did she say last night?”

Before I could get one word out, Chuck was midroom. “So here you are. Beth, do you know anything about this new position? Does father know? I don’t want to sound rude, but I think there must be some sort of a mistake, and you should clear out.” His voice was gaining speed and volume and by the end of his short tirade I could not contain my distress. Panic filled my eyes as fast as the tears.

“Mother asked me to place the ad. You know I can’t be here 24/7, and well someone needs to be. Sylvia is here as a companion for those hours mother would be unattended. She can arrange her date book, help her get to the club for luncheons, and disappear to the garage apartment when not needed. It’s simple and done. Mother hired her yesterday and she’s already moved in. Carried her boxes up herself earlier.” She was up standing chin to chin with her brother now, moving with authority and a command I would not have thought possible. Chuck was about to argue when she raised her hand, “You know as well as I do that she should not be alone. Not after what happened in the Hamptons.”

Chuck’s shoulders relaxed and his eyes swept the carpet with that memory, but did not utter a rebuke. Whatever happened would wait for another time. We could hear the laughter down below rising in proportion to the rate of alcohol consumption. All he said as he started out the door was, “Okay for now, but Father will hear about this. He should have been consulted, or I should have for that matter. We can’t let strangers in this house,” and with that he vanished down the staircase.

“I’ve bought you a few weeks, a month at best. Don’t go snooping around or get involved with either of my brothers. There will be nothing good from that. You look like you could use a meal. Follow me, you should see where the kitchen is.” With that I stood and followed Beth, but instead of going down the main staircase we continued down the hall to a smaller wooden door and down the narrow staircase that went straight into the kitchen. Beth switched on the light and I could see the large eight burner stove and the rest of the appliances. There was a round table in the middle of the room that sat four easily, but wasn’t where the family typically gathered for any meal. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a platter of sliced meats and cheeses, and a jar of mayo. She moved from one cupboard to another grabbing everything needed to make a great sandwich. Bread and plate and all the rest she placed on the table. Sit, she motioned to me, and I did just that. I hadn’t seen a refrigerator that filled since I was a kid at Thanksgiving and my grandmother was set to cook for all of us. Beth made two, one for now, she said, and one to take back to the apartment for later. I’d probably need it if the noise kept at this pace.

As I ate I attempted to get her going with small talk. “How long have you lived here?” She started to fill me in on the basics while I devoured the sandwich. 

“You might say this was my father’s way out of guilt to move us here. We had a smaller house, plenty big enough, across town, but I think my mother was sick of his cheating and threatened to divorce him, and since he was running her father’s business, that loss would be devastating to his lifestyle. So he moved her here, into what she used to call her dream house, and for a few years at least she had a million projects to keep her too busy to notice he wasn’t around as much. Perhaps it is hard to imagine now, but she brought this place back from the brink. I was too little to remember much, but the whole place was replastered and papered and painted. The floors had ancient worn carpets that she had ripped out and the wood as all brought back to its luster. She ordered that grand chandelier from Paris, drapes from Italy, all the beds custom made. We were moved in and out of the old bedrooms while one then the other was being decorated. That’s just about all I remember. At times we four kids were sleeping on cots in one room until our’s was ready. My brothers were old enough to have some input on color and design, but for us girls, my mother went for what she hoped for us. You saw what she envisioned for me.”

I did my best to nod and look interested until I ate every crumb on the plate. “Your mother is clearly an impressive woman, and I am honored that she’s given me this chance,” as formal as those words sounded coming out of my mouth, I did allow for some dignity from time to time. But if there was a back door off this kitchen I intended on taking it. “Any way I can slip out the back tonight?” 

Beth was up and wrapping my second sandwich, grabbed a coke from the fridge and nodded a quick yes. “Right over here,” she said as she opened the door and we stepped into an enclosed back porch which opened right next to the garage. 

“Use this entrance from now on, and for the rest of the weekend, I’d lay low. Tomorrow Frances will be here to cook a Sunday dinner but we will all be at the club most of the afternoon for brunch. That’s the routine while my brothers are around. You can catch up with my mother on Monday. I’ll let Frances know to expect you to join her in here for your meals. Her English is good enough for small talk.” As she opened the exterior door she added, “Lock the apartment door from the inside. There is a bolt. Use it.” We didn’t make eye contact but I was pretty sure it wasn’t for safety from the neighbors.

Always, on this day, or whenever this post passes into your inbox, do let me know if you are as enraptured as I am by these broken but beautiful women.