The Summer of Mrs. MacGregor Page 4

  Caroline nodded.

  “Well, her name is Lillian, dear. Not that a name matters, of course. She is what she is. And I’ll be glad to tell her you stopped by.” Mrs. Reston glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice slightly. “I’m so glad you’ve befriended her, Caroline. She needs a nice, down-to-earth friendship, I’m sure.”

  Caroline left, feeling that she’d been insulted enough in one morning to last a lifetime. And Mrs. Reston hadn’t even been trying!

  Nice.

  Down-to-earth.

  Nobody.

  She began to run. She ran all the way to the Super-Saver, and then she ran all the way back, speeding up as she passed the gray bungalow where Lillina was grounded. Not that she was eager to get back to Mr. Jameson-the-bear, of course. But running was better than walking when you didn’t want to think.

  Chapter 6

  Caroline expected to see Mr. Jameson at his front door as she rounded the corner. But the door stood open, just as she’d left it when she’d run away, and the old man wasn’t in sight. She slowed to a walk and went up the steps on tiptoe. Figure out what good old Eleanor would do, she told herself, heart thudding. Pretend the earlier, bad scene hadn’t happened. Do whatever work Mr. Jameson would let her do. Try not to get into an argument.

  She peeked into the living room. Mr. Jameson was fast asleep in front of the dark television screen. His cheeks sagged in heavy downward lines, and his eagle face looked softer in sleep.

  Caroline carried her purchases out to the kitchen and looked around. What could she do? The morning nurse had washed the breakfast dishes before she left. She tiptoed down a little hall to the bedroom. The bed was made, but a dresser drawer stood open, and a comb lay on the floor. She put the comb on the dresser cloth and closed the drawer. The bathroom was neat, except for a towel that had slipped off the rack. I don’t know what he needs me for, anyway, Caroline thought. She went back to the kitchen. Might as well go home and have lunch.

  Lunch! That was something she could help with as part of her job. She took the peanut butter from the Super-Saver bag and tiptoed around the kitchen finding bread and milk. There was a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter, and she thought briefly of adding a banana to the peanut-butter sandwich, then decided against it. If Mr. Jameson didn’t like the combination as much as she did, he’d probably claim she was trying to poison him. She set the sandwich plate and the milk on a tray and added a little jar of jelly (everybody liked jelly with peanut butter, didn’t they?). A polished apple served as dessert.

  When she returned to the living room, Mr. Jameson was still asleep. His chin almost touched his chest, and he had begun to snore. She moved one of the little end tables close to his chair and put the tray on it. As an afterthought, she laid a chocolate bar next to the plate.

  The walker was on its side against the sofa. Caroline picked it up and started back to the kitchen with it. Then she changed her mind. When he woke up, the lunch tray would let him know she’d decided to forgive—or at least ignore—his earlier meanness. But she wasn’t wrong about the walker. If he didn’t use it, he was almost certainly going to fall. She set the walker at his side and tiptoed out quickly, easing the screen door shut behind her.

  She wanted to be a safe distance away before he woke up.

  Mrs. Cabot called soon after Joe came home from work. She sounded cheerful, but Caroline wasn’t fooled. A new treatment, a new doctor, a new diagnosis always meant a period of hope. A week from now—or a month—if she was still optimistic, that would be time enough to cheer.

  “How was the job, Carrie? Is Mr. Jameson as difficult as people say?”

  “He was okay.” Caroline wasn’t going to spoil her mother’s good mood. “He was about the way I thought he’d be.”

  Mrs. Cabot chuckled. “That bad? And you’re going back tomorrow?”

  “Oh, sure.” Caroline wondered whether Mr. Jameson would even let her in.

  They talked a while longer, and then it was Linda’s turn on the phone. She sounded tired; to her, a new treatment just meant more pain, more long hours in a hospital. But she had a nice roommate almost exactly her own age, and the food at the clinic was better than the food at Grand River Hospital. They were going to have Hawaiian chicken tonight, and one of the aides had promised that if they ate everything on their trays she would demonstrate how to do a hula. She wasn’t Hawaiian, Linda explained, but she was taking dance lessons at a YWCA.

  “Wish I could be there,” Joe said. He was on the bedroom telephone, so that he and Caroline could both hear everything that was said.

  “We wish you were here, too,” Linda said wistfully. Caroline realized how hard her sister was trying to sound cheerful for her family’s sake. She wondered if Joe was fooled.

  He wasn’t. When they had said good-bye and he returned to the kitchen, his face was grim. “That poor kid,” he said. “I wish I could go through this for her. It’s so darned unfair.” He switched on the oven and opened the freezer. “There’re five different casseroles in here. You care which one we have tonight?”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask you how it went with old Jameson today. Was he really okay?”

  Joe looked so tired and depressed, Caroline decided she couldn’t confide in him either. “He doesn’t have a lot for me to do,” she said. That much was true.

  “You going to keep on going over there?”

  “I—I don’t know. If he wants me. If there’s enough work.”

  “Good for you.” He wandered back to the refrigerator and stood looking into it as if he couldn’t remember why he was there.

  “Mom left a twenty-four-hour salad in there,” Caroline said helpfully. “Your favorite kind.”

  “Sounds fine.” He closed the door and settled heavily at the kitchen table with the Grand River Herald.

  Caroline went outside. What a strange, unsettling day it had been! First, saying goodbye to her mother and Linda. Then the terrible meeting with Mr. Jameson. And then the peculiar conversation with Mrs. Reston. What was the mysterious problem that was keeping Lillina grounded in her room? And what was her real name, for goodness’ sake?

  Without really deciding to do it, Caroline walked down Barker Road to the Restons’ house. A radio or television played softly inside, but Lillina didn’t appear. Maybe, Caroline thought, the problem was so bad that Mrs. Reston would send Lillina home to New York. The thought was surprisingly painful.

  She tried ESP. Come on out, Lillina-Lillian. I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. She stood there for a few minutes, until she began to feel self-conscious. Lillina wasn’t coming, and that was that. Mrs. Reston wouldn’t let her.

  There was nothing to do but go home to the casserole and the fruit salad and lonely Joe.

  Chapter 7

  “It was nothing,” Lillina said. “Aunt Louise and I just had a tiny misunderstanding.”

  “It didn’t sound so tiny,” Caroline protested. “She said you had to stay in your room until the problem was settled.”

  Lillina shrugged. “Actually, I had a delightful day,” she said firmly. “I need time alone occasionally. To meditate.”

  They were lying in Caroline’s hideaway place behind the toolshed. Lillina wore a bikini. She was so thin that the scrap of cloth forming its top stretched handkerchief-flat across her chest. Her hips were as narrow as a boy’s. Still, it was clear from the way she lay there, ankles crossed, arms curved above her head, that she felt as beautiful as any cover girl in a swimsuit.

  Caroline decided to try once more to get at the truth. “But what happened yesterday? You’re not going back to New York right away, are you?”

  Lillina gave her a startled glance. “Of course not, dear,” she said. “I just arrived in Grand River, after all. Even my darling Frederick would be shocked if I came home right now. He wants our house to be nearly completed and ready for furnishing when I return.” She smiled dreamily. “There’s going to be a sunken living room, did I menti
on that? And a darkroom where I can develop my pictures. And a simply marvelous study. My desk will be in front of a window where I can look out over the rose garden. Did I tell you Frederick wins prizes for his roses?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Caroline waited, hoping for more details about yesterday’s tiny misunderstanding, but Lillina seemed to have forgotten all about it.

  “Your aunt Louise says your name isn’t Lillina,” Caroline said, after a short silence. “She said it’s Lillian.”

  Lillina lifted herself on one elbow and cocked an eyebrow. “Lillian, Lillina,” she repeated mockingly. “Do you know, she actually accused me of lying to you, until I showed her this.” She plunged a hand into the oversized shoulder bag lying next to her on the blanket and handed Caroline a worn scrap of paper. It was a birth certificate, folded twice and falling apart at the creases, but very authentic-looking.

  “Lillina Jane Taylor,” Caroline read aloud. She was surprised at how relieved she felt to know Lillina hadn’t lied.

  “Elizabeth Taylor, the movie star, is my father’s second cousin,” Lillina said. “We invited her to our wedding, but she was in Europe making a film. Anyway, the point is, that’s my birth certificate, and you can see for yourself that Lillina is my name.” She took back the paper and folded it carefully away. “People called me Lillian when I was a child, but I knew they were wrong. The first time I saw my birth certificate I said, ‘There, that’s the real me.’”

  “I don’t understand,” Caroline said. “How could you—”

  “Aunt Louise says someone made a spelling mistake on the certificate.” Lillina laughed that idea away. “Lillina is my true name. You believe me, don’t you?”

  Caroline nodded, fascinated. “How about your mom and dad? What do they call you?”

  “Whatever I want them to. My parents are very understanding. My mother always says, ‘Be the person you want to be, dear. Express yourself.’” Lillina looked at Caroline speculatively. “Haven’t you ever wanted to change your name?”

  “I’d rather change me and keep the same name,” Caroline replied. Her name was one of the few things she liked about herself.

  Lillina smiled. “Now that’s exactly the kind of thing Eleanor would say. Eleanor is changing all the time. Improving herself, I mean. You really are so much like her, it’s remarkable.”

  Mention of Eleanor brought Caroline back to thoughts of her job. This morning she’d watched Mr. Jameson’s nurse help him from the house and into a waiting cab. When she’d crossed the street at ten o’clock, there had been a terse note tacked to the front door: Mr. J. has a doctor’s appointment. Come tomorrow, same time. So he still wanted her to work for him. Maybe he’d liked waking from his nap and finding his lunch prepared. Or maybe he’d just decided it would be fun to have someone to throw things at whenever he felt like it. In any case, Caroline was glad she didn’t have to tell people the job had ended after just one day.

  “I started working for Mr. Jameson yesterday,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “That’s why I stopped at your house. I was going to tell you about it.” She paused.

  “Marvelous,” Lillina murmured. “You should get a nurse’s uniform right away. You’ll look stunning in white.”

  Caroline glanced down at her faded blue T-shirt and cut-off jeans. “I don’t look stunning in anything,” she said flatly. “Besides, I might not be working for Mr. Jameson very long. He’s really crabby.”

  “Mmmm.” Lillina rolled over on her stomach and yawned. “You’ll be all right,” she said lazily.

  Caroline opened her mouth to describe yesterday’s experiences, then changed her mind. She was disappointed that Lillina seemed interested only in the uniform.

  “Is he going to pay you lots of money?” Lillina asked, after a while. “How long will it take to earn the one hundred dollars?”

  Caroline didn’t want to admit that she and Mr. Jameson hadn’t discussed payment. “It won’t take too long, I guess,” she said, hoping she was right. “Anyway, it beats baby-sitting.”

  That, at least, was the truth. The one time Caroline had been a sitter, she’d been asked to substitute for the Kramers’ regular sitter who had come down with flu. It had been for only two hours, and since Caroline was barely a year older than the oldest Kramer boy, and since they had spent the time playing games together and watching a detective show, the Kramers had decided that it was more a visit than a job. They had sent her home with a stack of the boys’ old comic books and a piece of cake from the birthday party they’d attended. Joe said she ought to complain, but Caroline couldn’t make herself go back to ask for money. It was easier to despise herself for letting people walk all over her.

  “I used to adore baby-sitting when I was young,” Lillina said. “I’d make up little plays, and the children would act them out. They always wanted me to play the fairy queen.” She smiled at the memory. “Your sister Linda and I have quite a lot in common, don’t you think? Of course, I’ve never met her, but you’ve told me so much about her. She was Sleeping Beauty in a school play, you said. It’s quite a coincidence, really, since you’re so much like my sister and all.”

  Caroline gaped at her. Lillina, stretched in the sunlight like a skinny, contented cat, felt as beautiful as Linda really was. How could she feel that way, when she wasn’t even pretty? Unusual—that’s what she was—not pretty.

  “My legs are starting to burn,” Caroline muttered because she couldn’t think of a way to disagree without sounding mean. “Let’s go in and make some lemonade.”

  Lillina sat up. “I have a better idea,” she announced. “Let’s go to the shopping mall, Caroline. Why lie around here when we could be having an adventure?”

  Caroline made a face. “Going to the mall is no big deal,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have money to buy anything, and I hate just wandering around.”

  “We won’t wander,” Lillina said. Her brown eyes sparkled, and she was as wide awake as she’d been sleepy moments before. “Come on, Caroline, let’s do it. You get into one of your little dresses, and I’ll go home and change. I’ll meet you at the bus stop.”

  “A dress!” Caroline protested. “We don’t have to wear dresses to go to the mall. But you can’t wear your bikini,” she added hastily, because she suspected Lillina might be capable of just that. “You’ll have to change if you really want to go.”

  “We both have to change,” Lillina insisted. “No shorts, Caroline. You’ll see, we’ll have a terrific time.”

  Caroline felt uneasy. She wished she knew what Lillina had in mind.

  “Dressing up to go to a shopping mall is dumb,” she said, but the argument was already lost and she knew it. Lillina stood up, unfolding her long length gracefully and smoothing her hair. “I’ll bring my camera,” she said, as if determined to deepen the mystery. “This should be a perfect opportunity.”

  Opportunity for what? Caroline decided it was no use asking. “Put some film in the camera this time,” she said sourly and went inside to find a dress.

  Chapter 8

  Marquette Mall spread out over several acres, like a gigantic cream-frosted wedding cake. Bright-colored flags whipped and snapped a welcome above the south entrance as the girls stepped down from the bus.

  Lillina sparkled as brightly as the flags. All the way across town she’d chattered about how much she liked to shop, what a spectacular wardrobe she’d left behind in New York, and how she hoped some day to own a store that sold high-fashion clothes. That would be her first investment, she said, after she became rich and famous.

  Now, as they approached the mall, she seemed almost breathless with anticipation. Caroline was excited, too. She had smoothed back her dark hair and fastened it with one of Linda’s gold barrettes. Her dress was a dark blue cotton with a white collar. Her mother said once that it looked like a uniform, but Caroline liked it. It was plain and neat, and when she wore it she didn’t expect anyone to tell her she was stunning. Because she wasn’t.

  Lil
lina had seemed a little disappointed when they met at the bus stop. But then she’d said, almost at once, that Eleanor had a dress cut very much like Caroline’s, in shades of gray and brown.

  “A sandpiper kind of dress?” Caroline suggested shyly.

  “Exactly! You’re a darling pair of sandpipers, and I’m a—”

  “Peacock,” Caroline said. She looked admiringly at Lillina’s bright costume—a long, gold-colored cotton skirt with the white blouse she’d worn the first time Caroline saw her. There were at least six colored chains looped around her throat, and her hair was combed back behind her ears, held in place on one side by a yellow tulip from the Restons’ garden. Sunglasses, huge and sequined, almost covered her narrow face.

  As soon as they were settled on the bus, Lillina had tugged at the blouse to make it settle lower on her shoulders. “Oh, Caroline, this is fun!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t been shopping for ages.”

  “I don’t like to shop,” Caroline said. “Usually. Does Eleanor like it?”

  “Not unless we go together.” Lillina tugged again at the blouse until the elastic neckline threatened to snap. “Then she has a wonderful time.”

  Now, as they entered the cool, brightly lit mall, Lillina walked right past the stores that offered clothes for juniors. There were at least six shops that Caroline’s friends always visited; their racks were crammed with jeans and pants and tops. Lillina acted as if these places weren’t even worth her notice. Though she hadn’t been to the mall before, she seemed to know what she was looking for. When they reached Margo’s Fashions, the most expensive shop in all of Grand River, she turned in at once.

  Caroline followed. She’d never shopped in this store, even with her mother. The creamy carpet, silvery walls, the peach-colored sofas made her think of a stage set. There were no customers except for a stout man, sunk deep into one of the sofas, who looked bored to death and kept shooting impatient glances toward the dressing-room door in the rear of the store.