“If the money’s tight, Hannah, we’ll talk to the man in town.”
The Man in Town. My grandparents had mentioned him over the years. My grandfather had been careful about money and distrustful of society. I’d overheard them talk about an annuity, and I knew cash came from somewhere, presumably from that mysterious man, on a regular basis. Certainly I never went without. When I needed clothing or anything else, Grand had driven me to the store to get it, whether the store was in Charlottesville or Richmond, and, of course, there was always mail order. For food, we gardened and hunted, and we bought the rest at the grocery store in Mineral. The only thing we lacked was online shopping, but we had no computer and no connectivity for Internet or cell phone.
Honestly, the lacks didn’t bother me. I’d rather be at my potter’s wheel or walking through the woods if spare time offered itself.
Bottom line: Grand gave careful consideration before every expense. He said we had to keep our money safely in the bank in case of hard times. We lived lean here in Cooper’s Hollow, and aside from the losses money couldn’t solve, like Grand’s death, I couldn’t recall any problem hard enough to disregard his admonition about saving.
I told Gran, “Mildred thought it might be good for me to get out and about some. Plus, I can put the money aside for college.”
Gran nodded as if in conversation with herself, but all she said was, “If that’s what you want to do.”
Mildred’s friend, a scrawny woman named Babs, had a regular route of houses she cleaned. Many big houses dotted the county both from folks who’d lived here a long time, plus the newcomers. I let Babs know I wouldn’t take customers from too far away because it wouldn’t be worth it if the gas and travel time outweighed the pay.
The people in the big, fancy houses lived very differently from us. I enjoyed seeing how they lived, but I wasn’t envious. Curious, yes. Babs gave me a turquoise T-shirt with her company name printed on it, but otherwise I wore jeans and sandals. I cleaned several houses a week. It wasn’t hard work, and my personal savings, tucked in a small box in a corner of my dresser drawer, benefited. In the evenings, over supper, I’d tell Gran about the houses and the people who couldn’t or wouldn’t clean their homes themselves, who had to hire others for such basic stuff like dusting and sweeping, and we’d have a good laugh.
Late one afternoon, I returned from my cleaning job. My brain was busy, but I didn’t feel talkative. Gran was seated by the woodstove, reading. I went about tidying up and remaking her bed until she rapped her cane against the floor. I looked up.
“Hannah, honey, you’ve been in another world since you walked in the door. What’s got you so preoccupied? Are you regretting the job? Because if you are, that’s fine by me. Like I said, we can work out the money issue ourselves.”
I looked at her and saw her lower legs and ankles were seriously swollen. Her slippers couldn’t fit on her feet properly. I moved the footstool closer to the chair.
“You need to keep these up when you’re sitting.” I lifted her legs one by one and gently placed them on the footstool. “Now keep them there.”
“How was the job today?”
“It was fine. Nothing special. You stay put, and I’ll get supper going.”
The cleaning job that day had been a little different. Maybe special, too, despite what I’d told Gran. As nice as some of those houses were, they didn’t feel harmonious inside. The air felt wrong—not congenial—as if the folks living there were often at odds.
That was the case with the house off Cove Road farther along Elk Creek. By all appearances, it was a beauty, and it was a pleasure to mop and dust while I considered what I might like in my own home one day, a long way down the road of time. The beauty of it was almost enough to disguise the disquiet. I saw the framed photos on the wall and recognized a boy I knew from high school. Spencer Bell. We hadn’t traveled in the same circles, but he was a looker and one of those kids with good teeth who smiled all the time. He had plenty to smile about. We weren’t friends, but he wasn’t a jerk, either, and I had nothing against him. He surprised me while I was working in the kitchen. Gave me a double look.
“That you, Hannah?” He looked around. “Mom said the cleaning lady was here.”
I laughed a little to dispel the oddness of it. “That’s me.” I waved the dust cloth. “I’m earning extra for college.”
He pulled a stool up to the kitchen island and drank from the milk carton. I gave him a glass, and this time, he laughed. His dark hair fell in locks across his brow. He had a good haircut, the kind that fell carelessly and still looked right. He was wearing shorts and a knit shirt. Nice stuff. Probably cost more than what I’d earn for a week’s work. Maybe more.
He asked, “Where are you going?”
“Me?” I fidgeted with the dust cloth. “To college? I was planning to go to Tech, but I have to wait a year. My grandfather died, and I can’t leave my grandmother yet. She needs a little time to get back on her feet, so to speak.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. They raised you, right? You lived with them?”
I nodded. “Yes, my parents died when I was a baby.”
“Yeah? I think I heard that somewhere along the way. Sorry.” He fixed his eyes on my face. “I never thought much about it. You never talked about being an orphan or acted like it.”
“An orphan?” I almost laughed. How did orphans act? “Honestly, I never felt like an orphan. Things happen. Everybody has troubles of some kind or another. I was lucky to have my grandparents.” I didn’t add, though I could’ve, that family business is private business, not to be discussed with the outside.
“I like that,” he said. “You don’t go around feeling sorry for yourself. You know what you want. My dad says that’s being self-directed. A self-starter.”
“That’s how he raised you? That’s good.”
“Well, he tried. Not sure it really took.” He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave.
Holding up the cloth again, I said, “I’d better get back to work.”
“Sure, I have to be somewhere, too.” He left the stool but paused on his way out of the kitchen. “You interested in hanging out . . . I mean, going out sometime?”
I think I blushed. I tried not to show his invitation meant anything, even if my face did turn a little pink.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t answer.
He continued. “Melissa and I have been together forever. But here’s the thing—we split up. She’s going to one side of the country for college, and I’m going the other way. We agreed it’s time to see other people, so if you’re interested in having some fun . . .”
“Sure.” I tried to sound cool. “Call me sometime.”
He grabbed a marker from beside the kitchen phone. “What’s your number?”