Daisy Lane (27 page)

“Well, this is my home sweet home,” Maggie said, as she stepped inside her front room and stood aside for Grace to enter.

The apartment had a long hallway that led from a sitting room that overlooked Rose Hill Avenue at the front all the way back to a kitchen with a balcony that overlooked the alley and the backyards of the houses on Lilac Avenue at the back. Off the left side of the hallway a sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom lined up one behind the other. Warm sunshine was flooding the front room, and the radiator hissed and rattled, providing warmth against the brisk spring chill that seeped in around the hundred-year-old window panes.

An enormous tabby cat lay curled up on the seat of a large cushy armchair; he had one paw covering his face and his tail curled around him. He opened one eye, focused in on the intruders, closed it again, and then curled himself up even tighter into a black and caramel-colored furry striped ball.

“That’s Duke,” Maggie said. “He can be crabby until he knows you better so you probably shouldn’t pet him; he’s got a bad reputation for biting first and asking questions later.”

The phone rang and Maggie said, “I better get that; make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

Maggie ran down the hall, shedding handbag, coat and shoes along the way. She answered on the third ring. It was Scott.

“I’ve just been to see Trick,” he said. “He says Mamie’s determined to get custody of Grace. She’s got more money and meaner lawyers; we may lose this fight just because we can’t afford it.”

“I’m not going to let her ruin Grace’s life,” Maggie said, trying to keep her voice down. “Mamie doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.”

“Don’t do anything crazy,” Scott said. “Let’s keep this civilized for Grace’s sake.”

Maggie shut the door to the hallway so Grace could not hear her.

“We need to reconnoiter with Sean, make a game plan,” she said. “He’s in Pittsburgh talking to the trust attorney, but he’s coming for dinner about six. Can you come?”

“I’ll be there,” Scott said. “Doc’s agreed to go over there with me this evening to talk to Mamie. That way we can check on Grace while we’re there.”

“That woman,” Maggie said, “is not going to get her mitts on our girl.”

“I’m not going to let it happen,” Scott said.

“I love you,” Maggie said. “We’re going to win this fight.”

“I love you, too,” Scott said. “Please don’t blow up Mamie’s house or let Hannah tase her.”

Maggie hung up the phone, feeling the anger that had blossomed in her chest making her heart beat faster and her face feel hot. She opened the doors to the back balcony and let cold air blow over her, taking deep breaths to calm down before she went back to Grace. She wanted to keep everything calm and low-key so Grace could rest with no further drama.

As soon as she regained her composure, she closed the doors and went back up to the front room, saying, “Sorry about that; are you ready for the grand tour?”

But Grace was lying on her side, asleep on the sofa, her coat and shoes still on, with Duke curled up against her chest. He was purring so loudly Maggie was amazed she could sleep through the loud rumbling. Duke narrowed his eyes at Maggie, but then squeezed them shut at her in a contented way.

Maggie draped a quilt over them, left Grace a note, and went downstairs to work.

When Mamie walked through the entrance to the bookstore, with the determined air of someone injured yet superior to all she surveyed, Maggie could not believe her eyes. Her blood seemed to boil in her veins, and the steam flushed her face up to the roots of her flaming hair.

“Uh oh,” the barista Benjamin said. He fled to the café side, out of the line of fire.

Mamie strode right up to Maggie, her tattered, faded tote bags swinging, and looked through her dirty cat-eye glasses, down her long humped nose at Maggie.

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” Mamie said. “I’m here to shop. Although by the look of your shrinking book stock, I have to wonder how you stay in business at all. I’m sure there’s nothing new in the romance section, but I need something to do while I wait for my attorneys to prepare my case. They say it will be like shooting fish in a barrel, and you’ll all go broke long before I’m finished ruining you. It will amuse me to put you out of business.”

She made as if to go past Maggie but Maggie shot out an arm and barred her way.

“You’re banned,” she said, and although she kept her voice low the husky timbre conveyed the dangerous depth of her anger.

“What do you mean?” Mamie demanded. “What did you say?”

“You and I both know there’s nothing wrong with your hearing,” Maggie said. “You are now officially banned from this store and you must leave the premises immediately.”

“You can’t do that,” Mamie said. “I’m a paying customer.”

“You’re a vicious, selfish old hag,” Maggie said. “You’d ruin a young girl’s life out of spite and greed, even though you don’t give a damn about her.”

“And I suppose you’d be a better role model, living in sin with the chief of police.”

“Get out,” Maggie said.

“I won’t,” Mamie said. “What are you going to do, add the assault and battery of a senior citizen to the list of strikes against you? I dare you. I’ll take this place from you, burn it to the ground, and then roast marshmallows over the coals.”

“You can act like you have enough money to buy and sell everyone in this town,” Maggie said, “but you’ve underestimated me; that’s to my advantage.”

Maggie went to the café side of the bookstore, pulled out a chair, and climbed up to stand on it.

“May I have your attention,” she said in a loud voice. “That woman over there, the one with the cane, has been banned from this store because she’s trying to keep me from adopting an orphan who needs a home. She’s doing this because she’s a mean-spirited, vindictive person, with no soul or conscience, and not because she wants what’s best for the child. She’s the richest person in this town yet she never donates a penny to any charity; not so much as a can of beans to the local food bank. She’s an unrepentant racist and an elitist, upper-class ninny who for her entire miserable life has terrorized the people of this town with her condescending comments, rude behavior, and constant criticism. I want you to join me in letting her know what we think of cruel, heartless buzzards who hate orphans and the people who love them.”

Maggie started booing and one by one every person in the café joined her. Some stood up; some hissed. The volume increased and tension filled the room like a flammable gas. As soon as the customers and staff on the bookstore side joined in, the noise was deafening. Her face stained pink with anger, Mamie fled from the store, knocking over a rack of newspapers with her tote bags as she went.

Maggie got down off the chair and strode to the wall to the left of the entrance, where the dry-erase board of shame was mounted. Over the years it had been replaced several times to accommodate the growing list of the banned and banished. It was now six feet high by three feet wide, most of its surface covered with names written in block letters two inches high. Maggie took the eraser that was attached to it by a string and erased the top four rows of names (both Eldridge sisters and both Rodefeffer brothers). Then she took a red permanent marker from a pencil cup on the front counter and wrote “Cockamamie Rodefeffer” across the top in block letters four inches high. Her staff, all of them former victims of Mamie’s daily abuse, some for many years, applauded and whistled.

Maggie turned around to take a bow and that’s when she saw Grace standing in the doorway of the stairwell to her apartment. Maggie froze in place, horrified to realize that Grace had just witnessed Maggie’s hostile attack on her great-grandmother. She was afraid Grace would either be hurt, embarrassed, or both. To Maggie’s great relief, Grace smiled and began to clap her hands. Maggie was instantly conscious of being the center of attention, which caused her to blush, which morphed into cross irritation. She told everyone, “Get back to work,” and walked over to where Grace stood.

“How much of that did you witness?” she asked her.

“I came in as you got up on the chair,” Grace said. “It reminded me of myself in the library earlier this week.”

“We probably both need some anger-management training,” Maggie said. “I’m not going to lie to you; that’s not the first time and it certainly won’t be the last time I do something to embarrass myself in public.”

“I thought it was awesome,” Grace said. “You did that for me.”

Grace had tears in her eyes, and Maggie felt hers fill as well.

“We’re not going to let her have you,” Maggie said. “She doesn’t realize it, but I have a secret weapon that never fails.”

“What’s that?”

“My family,” Maggie said.

By the time all the businesses in Rose Hill closed for the evening, Mamie Rodefeffer had been made to realize that the Fitzpatrick family and their loyal friends had all banded together against her. Mrs. Balanchine was turned away from Maggie’s mother’s bakery; Mamie’s driver was refused gasoline at Hannah’s family’s service station; her attorneys were denied entrance to the Rose and Thorn, and Claire Fitzpatrick called to tell Mamie that all her standing appointments at the Bee Hive Beauty Salon were cancelled.

According to local gossip, all of this made Mamie furious, but nothing made her as mad as when she sent Mrs. Balanchine to Little Bear Books to buy some bodice rippers, only to find out the woman was politely but firmly shown the door. Mamie railed at her attorneys, who informed her that the owners of privately owned businesses had every right to refuse to serve someone who threatened their livelihood.

Mamie called the mayor, who said she should let her nephew, Knox, handle it.

“It’s an election year, Mamie,” he said. “Peg and I support you in our hearts, but public sentiment will be against you.”

All this did was make Mamie dig in her heels even further.

“I’ll show them,” she said to her attorneys, as reported by her eavesdropping housekeeper. “I’ll remind them that I am a Rodefeffer and not to be trifled with.”

Her attorneys checked into the Eldridge Inn; they seemed cheerful, according to the desk clerk. They ordered the best rooms and full breakfasts the next morning. All of which was charged to Mamie.

Mamie’s dining room was overheated and it made Grace sleepy. The walls were covered with framed pictures, so many that she could barely see the floral-patterned wallpaper behind them. Mostly they were paintings of birds and flowers, but there were a few of couples in clothing from long ago; a man rowing a boat with a woman holding a parasol, and one of a woman with her head on man’s shoulder.

‘It’s kind of creepy,’ Grace thought to herself.

“My mother decorated this room,” Mamie said from the doorway, startling Grace, “When I was a young woman.”

“When did you move here from our house?”

“They moved while I was away in Europe,” Mamie said. “I hope you’re not planning to interrogate me at every turn. I told you what happened once but I don’t plan on repeating it.”

“Do you have any pictures of Nino?”

“No,” Mamie said. “And don’t ask again.”

With that, she left the doorway and disappeared down the corridor.

Grace wondered what she was supposed to do now. Mamie had directed her to sit there and wait for their dinner guests. Alone with her thoughts, they started churning again. Grace held her hands to either side of her head and pressed, but she couldn’t stop her worries and anxieties racing in circles around her brain.

Could Mamie really make the court award guardianship to her? Did the money she had really make that much of a difference? Judge Feinman knew being with Kay was what she wanted; would Mamie’s lawyer get him removed from the case due to what he had called undue influence? How could a bakery box of cinnamon rolls be considered bribery?

She felt like Sara Crewe, forced to live with a mean old woman in a creepy old house. In that book the father miraculously reappeared. Her father had made it clear he had no interest in rescuing her. Scott was forbidden from doing anything or he would lose his job. Doc meant well, but even he was powerless in the face of Mamie’s checkbook. If she waited on some man to rescue her she might live in this house until she was as old as Mamie.

‘What would Lyra do?’ thought Grace. ‘Probably run away.’

But this was not a book, and she didn’t have a huge polar bear to protect her on her journey. She didn’t want to leave Rose Hill; she just wanted to leave Mamie’s house.

Grace lay her head on her arms on the table in front of her, and fell asleep. She dreamed she was traveling with Iorek Byrnison, the fierce warrior prince polar bear enslaved because the villagers had taken away his armor. Iorek turned into Scott, and it seemed Mamie had taken away his badge and his police car.

“I will find them,” Grace told Scott in her dream. “I will use the alethiometer and find them for you.”

In her dream the alethiometer was the glass swan, and it led her to a room at the very top of Mamie’s house, the very highest attic room. A wizard was sitting on a balcony there that overlooked the entire town of Rose Hill. He was watching everything that was happening below with great amusement.