Markie didn’t know if the other woman was legitimately asking if she was divorced as opposed to widowed, or if she was merely confirming what she already knew. It seemed entirely plausible that she might have extracted the information from Jesse while Markie was at the store. The thought annoyed her, and although she felt childish doing it, she ignored the question and pretended not to feel Mrs. Saint’s eyes on her.
Bruce cleared his throat, and Markie was certain it was his way of telling her no one denies Mrs. Saint a response. Had it not been such a stressful day, and had she not recently spent seven days being bossed around by her parents, Markie might have confirmed that, yes, she was divorced. Instead, she pressed her lips together. It was her house—she would decide whom she’d answer. She felt a frowning toddler rising up within her, arms crossed, feet stomping, and she lowered her head so the others wouldn’t see her cheeks flush with embarrassment at her own behavior.
“Let me just check on that gaming system,” she whispered as she scurried past the three of them and through the archway.
Finally, they were leaving. Markie thanked them again and received a shallow bow and a drawn-out “Madame” from Frédéric, a quiet “Okay, bye”—after prodding by Mrs. Saint—from Bruce, and all of this, from Mrs. Saint:
“Are you certain about the art? I have a housekeeper, she is called Patty, who has a real sensation for art. She could help you arrange on the walls. It would be so much nicer than the empty.
“And what about the kitchen? Chessie says frozen dinners always. Pizzas and the such. Made in a microwave and not even a real oven! My Ronda—she does the cooking for us—she could make some things. Casseroles and so on. Also we have vay-gay-tay-bles in the garden. She could bring to you. She could organize the kitchen, also.
“But what about patio furniture? I saw none from the truck. I have quelques extra. I will have Frédéric and Bruce carry over later.
“And what of le pauvre, Chessie? He should at least have the cable, non? I feel it is included in the rent after all. You will check your lease. If it is not said so in there, you will telephone to the leasing agent, who I think has left it out only. The landlord will pay for it. This I am sure about.”
Markie declined each of the woman’s offers, except for the idea to check about cable. She was certain she had asked the leasing agent about it and was told it wasn’t included, and she couldn’t imagine her neighbor knew better, but it was worth a shot for Jesse’s sake. Mrs. Saint nodded, satisfied to have landed one. She seemed about to say more, but Frédéric tapped her shoulder and gestured to the doorway, and to Markie’s surprise, Mrs. Saint followed him out. Markie smiled gratefully at him, and he winked.
“We will discuss another time the art and the foods and the kitchen,” Mrs. Saint said as she made her way through the door and across the patio.
Markie shook her head and blew out an exasperated puff of air, but she couldn’t help smiling at the retreating back of the elderly woman who had just sacrificed the better part of a day, and whatever fancy event she and Frédéric were planning to attend, for the sake of a new neighbor. Markie still wanted nothing to do with her, but she might be willing to admit the woman was more charming than annoying.
Mrs. Saint reached the low fence and made her way through the gate before turning back. She lifted a hand, and Markie raised hers in a wave. But instead of waving, Mrs. Saint held a finger in the air. “Et aussi, we will discuss le chien.”
Before Markie could form the thought, Nope—definitely more annoying than charming, Mrs. Saint nodded once, turned, and bustled through the garden toward her own side door. Markie was tempted to stand on her tiptoes and peer over the fence to see if the flowers were parting to make way for the old woman as she went.
Chapter Five
Overnight, four wicker chairs appeared on Markie’s patio, along with a glass coffee table and a moveable umbrella on a stand. It was a beautiful set, far nicer than anything she could have afforded. She was admiring it when Mrs. Saint came out, and Markie ran to the fence to meet her.
“It’s gorgeous,” Markie said. “You’re very generous. But it’s too much. I can’t accept it.”
“Non, non. Not too much. Two for you and Chessie, and two to entertain.” Markie was about to explain what she meant by “too much” when Mrs. Saint added, “Anyway, I could not use. I already have.” She gestured to her three-season screened porch, crowded with two love seats, a large coffee table, and a number of chairs.
There was no furniture in Mrs. Saint’s yard, though, Markie noticed, and following her gaze, Mrs. Saint said, “Only I don’t sit out from the porch. Because the sun.” She pointed to the sky and the round yellow enemy hanging there. “That is why the umbrella.” She wagged a finger. “You must make sure to stay under. And especially Chessie.”
It didn’t add up, of course. If Jesse and Markie could avoid the sun with the umbrella, so could Mrs. Saint. And “could not use” was explained less by the crowded porch and more by the fact that there were still store tags on the table, umbrella, and chairs. Markie suspected her neighbor had sent Frédéric and Bruce out to buy it all right after they walked out the bungalow’s side door the day before.
Mrs. Saint wouldn’t hear of sending the men back to take the furniture away, and Markie gave up for the moment, but later, she wondered if she should try again. What was the etiquette of returning a gift like that, though? If Mrs. Saint refused to send Frédéric and Bruce to collect it, should Markie and Jesse carry it back over the fence themselves?
There was a difference between graciously declining a gift and unceremoniously depositing it at the giver’s doorstep. It was too expensive a present in Markie’s view, but then, she didn’t wear thousand-dollar suits on the weekend or keep an entire staff of people employed. Maybe, when it came to housewarming gifts, patio furniture was to Mrs. Saint what a small potted plant was to Markie.
She penned a thank-you note that afternoon, had Jesse add his signature, and asked him to deliver it himself so he could add his in-person thanks as well. He returned to the patio with a dumbfounded expression and dropped into one of the other chairs.
“She said we’re welcome. She said she gives all her new neighbors a gift.”
“Nice,” Markie said.
He held up a hand to let her know she hadn’t heard the rest of it. “She said she’s keeping herself and Bruce and Frédéric and the rest of them out of our way for a while. Giving us time to settle in. She said she’ll check on us later.”
“Later today, you mean?”
He shook his head. “Later, like in a few weeks.”
“Wow.” Markie ran her hand over the wicker armrest of her chair, which suddenly seemed like an even more generous gift now that it came with three weeks of quiet rather than the daily storming of the fence she had been expecting.
Jesse, gazing at Mrs. Saint’s house as though trying to figure out if he had really gone over there and heard the words he thought he had heard, or if it had been a dream, said, “Yeah. I know.”