Julia's Last Hope Page 7

  “You must learn to share,” admonished the mother. Julia guessed that the concept was totally foreign to the two girls.

  “But—” began Fredrika.

  “Now—no buts. We are not in a hotel, you know. We will be making do for a few days. Your papa wanted to get off to some quiet place. Away from civilization.”

  The look the woman gave her husband told Julia that the two were not in agreement about their destination. The man ignored his complaining wife and fussing children as he stirred cream and sugar into a second cup of hot tea.

  Making do, thought Julia. Making do—away from civilization. Though seething, Julia maintained her composure.

  “More tea, Mrs. Hammond?” she asked politely.

  “The last cup was a tad cold,” the woman snipped. “I do hope that shan’t be the norm.”

  Julia went to the kitchen to make a new pot. She detested fussiness, and they were being impossible.

  “I do hope that young ruffian is behaving himself in my backyard,” she mumbled to herself. Just then the kitchen door burst open and Felicity entered, her eyes wide.

  “Mama,” she exploded, “that boy is trying to tip over the swing!”

  “He’s what?”

  “He’s trying to tip it over. He’s swinging hard, and he said he’s going to go so high that it flips right over.”

  “Oh my!” exclaimed Julia on her way to the back porch.

  Tom was there by the time Julia arrived. He couldn’t reason with the young boy, and he couldn’t discipline the guests’ child, but he could thwart his action. Tom’s big, broad hand held the swing firmly so the boy, push as he might, went nowhere.

  Julia thanked Tom and returned to the kitchen. Felicity and Jennifer followed her.

  “How long will he be here, Mama?”

  “He kicked a flower pot all across the yard.”

  “He ate four cream puffs all by himself.”

  “He says he’s our boss and we are his servants.”

  “How long will he be here, Mama?”

  Julia sighed, and her eyes pleaded for the girls to be patient.

  Jennifer caught the message and nudged Felicity. Both girls fell silent.

  Julia drew her two daughters close. “I didn’t know that it would be this hard,” she admitted. “But we must do it. We must help Papa. Do you understand?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “It won’t be long. In fact, they are so unhappy with our accommodations that they might not even stay. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

  Seeing hope in the girls’ eyes, Julia hurried on. “But we must try to keep them—to convince them. We must. Your papa—the—the other committee members—they are counting on us. Do you see? We must do the best we can—the very best—to endure.”

  Julia spoke the last word softly but with such determination that the girls knew how difficult the ordeal was for her. They nodded their consent.

  “Can we go to our room?” asked Jennifer.

  They had been told to wait on the porch in case the children needed entertaining. Julia could not ask that of them in the present circumstances. She nodded, and the girls left for the sanctuary of their room.

  Oh, if only I could run and hide in my room, thought Julia, but she couldn’t, so she picked up the pot of hot tea and the plate of sandwiches and returned to the parlor.

  “My, it takes a long time to make a pot of tea in the wild,” complained Mrs. Hammond. She refused the sandwiches, saying, “My waistline. One must not overindulge.”

  In spite of the difficult start, things did settle down over the next few days—or perhaps the residents of the big white house just adjusted.

  Mr. Hammond was determined to make his visit a wilderness adventure. He spent most of his hours walking mountain paths pretending, Julia surmised, to be the first man who had set foot on them. To the family, he talked incessantly of his “discoveries,” much to the annoyance of his wife and the boredom of his children.

  The young boy, Hadley, was directed to the vacated mill site, where he spent hours running over sawdust piles and investigating the small empty buildings the mill had left behind. He roared and ran and hooted and climbed, returning home for mealtimes in a dirty, dishevelled state. But at least he was out of everyone’s hair, and all those with whom he shared the house, including the Hammonds, seemed thankful for that.

  Felicity and Jennifer offered friendship to Miranda and Fredrika, but the city girls turned up their noses and continued to bicker and whine. No amount of coaxing or enticing could persuade them to do otherwise, and soon the Harrigan girls gave up and left them in their own misery.

  Mrs. Hammond took possession of the porch swing, demanding pillows to soften the wooden seats. Her back was bad. She had to put her feet up as well, and needed more cushions for them. Snuggled in the softness, she read penny novels and devoured so many imported chocolates that Julia figured they must have completely filled one of the mysterious suitcases. My waistline, indeed! thought Julia.

  Along with the busy days for Julia and Hettie, John and Tom were also pressed with responsibilities. The garden needed constant care. They had a wood supply to maintain, lawns to mow, and shrubbery to trim—not only at the Harrigan house, but also at empty neighborhood homes.

  In addition, Mrs. Hammond never stopped making suggestions as to how the Harrigans could make her and her family more comfortable.

  “Surely, you must have attic space. If your youngsters used it, my girls could each have her own room. They are not used to being crowded together, you know.”

  “If this porch was screened in, it would be much more pleasant.”

  “The gardens would be more becoming if there were more flowers and fewer vegetables.”

  Julia tried to let it all pass. She ticked off each day as she left the kitchen at night. In the meantime she and Hettie devised little ways of meeting the demands.

  They kept water boiling at all times. Two teapots were put into service, so there was always a hot pot at teatime.

  Hettie made hearty lunches for Hadley so the whole family did not need to wait for him to return from his exploring before sitting down to dinner.

  Mrs. Hammond was undisturbed on the porch swing, additional cushions borrowed from the committee members.

  Men loitering in front of the train station told Mr. Hammond enough stories of bears and mountain lions to convince him that the area was truly wild and dangerous. He would have many stories to tell when he returned to the city.

  And the two bickering girls—they were ignored as much as possible.

  Eventually the two weeks ended, and the suitcases were repacked. Mr. Hammond took one last walk, hoping to see an elusive grizzly bear. Mrs. Hammond wriggled free of her cushions, stood up, and ate her last chocolate as she left the porch. Miranda and Fredrika whined over who would get the window seat on the return trip, and Hadley roared up and down his sawdust trail one last time before being force cleaned for the train journey. Then they were on their way.

  The whole Harrigan household breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. They had made it.

  “I never would have survived without you,” Julia admitted to Hettie. “I was so close to giving up.”

  Julia drew the payment from her apron pocket. It really wasn’t much for all the work involved, but it would help—and it was a start.

  “I hope the Greenwald guests are easier to manage,” Hettie stated.

  “Oh my! I had forgotten. They arrive tomorrow, don’t they?”

  Hettie nodded. The committee had decided that each member would have a turn at keeping guests. Mrs. Greenwald was to host a young couple starting the next day.

  Julia looked about her disrupted home. She was eager to restore it to its proper state. The whole place needed a good cleaning.

  Hettie knew her thoughts. “We’ll get to it,” she assured her mistress.

  “I’m sure we will,” Julia stated, “but first let’s have a cup of tea.”

  “Hot?
” asked Hettie, a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Very hot!” said Julia, laughing.

  Chapter Eleven

  New Visitors

  Only Julia and three other committee members had the room and the desire to keep overnight guests. The other ladies hoped to make their living by selling goods from their craft shop. Julia was beginning to wonder if each of the four ladies would even get one turn at playing hostess.

  Mrs. Greenwald’s young couple quickly became bored with the small town and left before their time was up. Mrs. Clancy’s first clients made other plans and did not show up at all. That meant Mrs. Clancy would have the next people on the list. Eventually an elderly couple wrote for accommodation.

  Julia had received permission from four shop owners to use their facilities. The women, along with their husbands, got busy preparing the space to display merchandise. They expressed some disappointment at the meagerness of their stock as they tried to make so few items fill such big shelves.

  “It will be much better next year,” Julia encouraged. “We will have all winter to prepare things for the stores.”

  Although the women looked a bit more hopeful, Julia knew they were all wondering where they would get the funds needed to buy supplies to make the items.

  “These will have to do for now,” Julia continued. “It does look much better to have some of the boards off the shop windows along Main Street.”

  Summer was drawing to a close when two letters arrived. A family of three wanted a quiet accommodation for a two-week period and a “genteel” couple requested two rooms for an undetermined number of days. Julia hastily called a committee meeting for that afternoon.

  “We don’t have much time,” she told the group. “Both parties plan to arrive next week.”

  The Adams family was next on the list, so the committee decided they would get the guests staying for the more certain period of time. Julia was given the genteel couple.

  “Will you need help getting ready?” Julia asked Ruth Adams.

  “Thank you, but I’m as good as ready right now. After all, I’ve been waiting all summer.”

  “Is there anything you need?” asked Julia. “Vegetables? Linens?”

  “I could use some new potatoes—and perhaps a few carrots,” the woman admitted.

  “I’ll send the girls over with some,” promised Julia.

  Next Julia asked for a report from the craft shop.

  Matilda Pendleton shook her head. “We haven’t had much business this summer. One couple bought three or four things to take home to family, and some men from the train looked in. One bought a lace collar for his wife. That’s all.”

  It was a discouraging report but Julia tried to make the best of it.

  “Well, that’s a start. We’re getting a good stock of summer jams and jellies now. Once word gets around, the train crews might do a lot more purchasing.”

  The other women didn’t look too hopeful.

  Julia sensed their discouragement and brought the meeting to an end. “Hettie, I think we could all use some tea,” Julia prompted. As the ladies gathered around the serving table with cups of steaming tea and lemon tarts, their spirits were lifted in friendly chatter.

  “Do you think it will be like the last time?” asked Felicity when the family gathered for family worship in the evening.

  “Impossible!” John answered. “The world couldn’t contain two such families.” He rolled his eyes and put a horror-stricken look on his face to entertain his daughters.

  Felicity laughed and Jennifer smiled at John’s antics.

  Julia hoped John was right but she feared that two such families just might exist. She breathed a quick prayer that she might not be called upon to endure them both in one summer.

  “This will be a new family,” John reminded them. “They may be ‘different’—but that’s what makes this venture exciting. We never are quite sure what kind of folk we will be entertaining.”

  “I hope they don’t have a boy!” exclaimed Jennifer, remembering the last one.

  “If they do, we’ll need to tie down the flower pots,” put in Felicity.

  “And chain down the swing,” added Jennifer. “And—”

  “They don’t have a boy,” said Julia. “The next guests are just a couple.”

  “Old?” asked Felicity.

  “I don’t know. The letter just said ‘genteel.’ ”

  “What’s genteel?” asked Jennifer.

  “Well, that means they have good manners—good breeding. They are used to fine things,” Julia explained.

  Felicity rolled her eyes at her sister. “Oh-oh,” she said. “The children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard kind.”

  John and Julia laughed.

  “Well, it could be that you will need to keep down your chatter for a few days,” Julia admitted, “but that shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “I keep forgetting,” said Felicity. “When I am serving in the dining room or putting fresh towels in the bath, I keep forgetting that I am not to talk—just serve.”

  “I know,” Julia smiled. “It’s difficult to shift roles, isn’t it?”

  John fidgeted. He hated to see his family become servants in their own home. His girls were hardly more than children and they were serving the table, doing dishes, cleaning bathrooms, and making beds. Julia had tried to assure him that the experience was good for them, but John would rather have had them learn their duties under different circumstances.

  “Enough chatter for now. We all have things to do if we are to be ready for tomorrow,” Julia went on. “Let’s be quiet while Papa reads the Scriptures.”

  The girls settled themselves to listen to the scripture lesson that John had chosen for the evening reading. Then each one prayed, asking God to keep them within His will. Felicity went a step further. “Dear God,” she prayed, “bring us good guests—not like the last time. Thank you that they don’t have wild boys or grumpy girls. Help us to do our best to care for them and might they pay good money for all of us to live on. Amen.”

  The buggy did not carry many suitcases when Tom arrived with the guests the next afternoon. Each visitor had one small piece. Tom looked pleased as he carried the two cases to the second floor bedrooms.

  “Do come in,” Julia greeted the couple. “You must be weary after your long train ride. Hettie will show you your rooms and the hall bath where you may refresh yourselves. We will have tea in the main parlor in fifteen minutes.”

  The gentleman nodded, giving Julia a kind smile, and took his wife’s arm to follow Hettie. The woman climbed the stairs with hesitation, causing Julia a moment’s concern. But she completed the climb with no apparent ill effects. Julia put aside her worry and went back to the kitchen.

  In fifteen minutes, just as Julia had arranged, the couple entered the parlor. They made no demands. Mr. Williams led his wife to a chair and helped her be seated. He pulled another chair up close to hers and seated himself.

  “Cream and sugar?” Julia asked.

  “Just sugar for me,” replied the woman, “but Mr. Williams will have a bit of both.”

  Julia served the tea and passed the dainty sandwiches.

  “My, you have a lovely home. So pretty. Not—not stark and cold like—like some places,” the woman observed as she helped herself to a sandwich.

  “Thank you,” responded Julia. She enjoyed having her home receive proper respect.

  “I love the pictures,” the woman went on. “That one in the hall, of the stream and the children. I could almost taste the water the boy is offering to the girl.”

  Julia enjoyed the compliment. The picture was one of her favorites.

  “Who is the artist?” the woman asked.

  “He was an acquaintance of my father,” Julia stated. “The picture was a wedding gift.”

  “Then I don’t suppose you want to sell it?” the woman asked, her brows arched over her lifted teacup.

  “No,” said Julia, shaking her head. “I think not.”

&n
bsp; Julia passed the cupcakes. Mr. Williams accepted one, but Mrs. Williams politely turned down the sweets.

  “I would like another cup of that lovely tea, though,” she murmured. “Quite the nicest cup of tea I have had for some time.”

  Julia smiled. “I suspect that our cold, clear spring water has something to do with that.”

  “Yes,” agreed the woman. “Yes, I suspect so.” Then she turned to her husband. “Do you suppose we could get our water from the spring?” she asked him.

  “We will drink nothing but spring water while we are here,” he promised.

  “I mean for our tea.”

  “Yes, dear. For our tea.”

  “But shouldn’t we pay them if we are going to use their water?” she asked.

  “My dear, we will pay them,” he tried to assure her.

  “But I didn’t see you pay.”

  “We pay when we leave,” he tried to reason.

  “Are we leaving already? Goodness! It seems that we just got here,” she said, rising to her feet.

  Julia could not understand the strange exchange. She wondered if she should leave the room and give the man an opportunity to calm his disoriented wife.

  The man stood also. “No, dear, we are not leaving yet.” He eased her back into her seat. “And you are quite right,” he hurried on. “We do owe this lady for her fine tea, made of fresh spring water. Here. I will pay her. See! Right now.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a bill, which he handed to Julia. His wink told Julia to take the money without comment.

  Julia accepted the bill with a trembling hand. “Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Williams,” she managed.

  Mrs. Williams settled back in her chair.

  “That’s better,” Julia heard her say.

  Mr. Williams set aside his cup. “I do think my wife needs some rest,” he explained. “If you will excuse us, I will take her to her room.”

  Julia nodded. “Dinner will be served in the dining room at seven,” she said.

  Mrs. Williams allowed her husband to take her arm, help her out of her seat, and steer her toward the staircase.

  “Wait!” Julia heard her say when they reached the hall. “I want to see the picture.”