I’d only been working for Mrs. Kingsley a few months when Teddy announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for Thanksgiving. I can still picture her face when she hung up the phone that afternoon. Like she’d sucked on a lemon and then got some juice in a papercut.
“Something wrong, ma’am?” I asked.
Back then, I hadn’t learned to keep my mouth shut.
“Teddy is bringing his new girlfriend for Thanksgiving,” her smile was a tight grimace, “They’ll be here on Wednesday at suppertime.”
I must have looked too pleased at that because she shot me a reproachful look.
“Don’t get too attached, Mary. I’m sure she thinks she’s won the lottery – a waitress snagging a nice law student like my Teddy,” she shook her finger at me, “But mark my words: she’ll show her true colors soon enough!”
Mrs. Kingsley turned to stalk out of the kitchen, then turned on her heel to face me again.
“And Mary? Don’t forget to pick up the ingredients for my orange cinnamon rolls while you’re at the store. That’s all Teddy will want for his breakfast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I turned back to the basket of clean towels before me.
“Vera, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”
Teddy and I both flinched as the girl threw her arms around Mrs. Kingsley. The older woman stiffened, then quickly extricated herself from the embrace.
“Mother,” Teddy said with a shy smile, “This is Trixie.”
“What a curious name,” Mrs. Kingsley said with a cool smile, “Like the exotic dancer on that television show.”
Then she turned to her son.
“Teddy,” she said, “I’m so happy you’re home. Dinner will be ready in half an hour – go freshen up.”
Mrs. Kingsley breezed past Trixie without a second glance. If this exchange bothered the girl, she didn’t let it show. She smiled gamely and linked her arm through Teddy’s – asked him to show her around.
The girl was Pollyanna come to life with her rust-colored hair and smattering of freckles across her nose. She was no beauty queen, but her smile lit up her face and her laughter was infectious. I could understand why Teddy had fallen for her.
That was the night Ted and Trixie announced their engagement. Timing couldn’t have been worse, but they were kids in love. How could anyone expect them to know the difference? There was a lot more of Mrs. Kingsley’s sour lemon face that day.
Mrs. Kingsley helped me wash the dishes last night. Hadn’t happened before and hasn’t since, but I think she was so worked up about that waitress clinging to her Teddy. She was slamming pots on the countertop and throwing dishes in the sink like those were the things she was mad at. I didn’t dare say anything. There were too many sharp objects around to risk it. But eventually she shattered a wine glass. Like a fool she started feeling around the soapy water with her bare hands to catch the pieces. Before long, she was bleeding all over the floor I’d just mopped that afternoon.
I was kneeling on the floor and wrapping gauze around her finger when I decided I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. Mrs. Kingsley’s face was red and shining – her ivory face powder long wiped away. Her hair was falling out of her French twist.
“Try to be happy for them, ma’am,” I said, “She seems like a sweet girl. And you don’t want to push Teddy away.”
Mrs. Kingsley stood up and flashed me a smile that looked more like an animal in pain.
“Don’t you worry, Mary. She’ll show her true colors before the wedding day. Teddy will be rid of her by Easter – you mark my words.”
I could practically see Mrs. Kingsley’s nerves winding tighter when the doorbell rang. She was sitting in her reading chair and clutching her teacup for dear life.
“Will you get that, Mary?” she snapped, “Or what is it that I pay you for?”
My annoyance turned to pity as I turned to consider my employer – the deepening lines in her gaunt face, the teacup trembling in her hand. The past year had not been kind to Mrs. Kingsley.
I opened the door to the shiniest, happiest couple you ever saw in your life. Fresh from their honeymoon and no idea what kind of nightmare they were walking into. Or maybe they just had good poker faces.
“I’m so glad we made it back in time to spend Thanksgiving with you,” Trixie cried happily, throwing herself into my arms.
It took everything in me not to ask why they didn’t just extend their honeymoon another week.
Teddy disappeared upstairs with their luggage, then came bounding down the stairs again with a small gift-wrapped package.
“Where’s Mother?” he asked me, “We want to give her this first.”
I pointed toward the parlor, then hid behind the door to watch Mrs. Kingsley open the box. A long silence ticked by as Mrs. Kingsley held up an ornate silver rattle.
“We’re having a baby!” Trixie exclaimed.
“You know the best part, Mother?” Ted asked, “If it’s a girl, we’ve decided we’re naming her after you!”
I came up to Mrs. Kingsley’s room after dinner to let her know I was leaving for the day. She was sitting in her armchair with a magazine – couldn’t even be bothered to turn around and look at me. But I saw that silver rattle sitting in the wastebasket by her vanity table.
“Your first grandchild,” I said quietly, “Such a blessing, ma’am.”
Mrs. Kingsley turned and fixed me with a steely gaze.
“Nothing shows the cracks in a marriage like a new baby,” she said.
I carefully wiped the rattle with the hem of my coat, set it on the dressing table, and let myself out.
“She’s nothing but a gold digger,” Mrs. Kingsley spat, “She’ll play the dutiful daughter in law while she steals from me.”
I shook my head and bent to help her swing her legs onto the bed.
“Ted and Trixie are doing you a favor,” I chided, “Do you know where you’ll end up if they don’t move in? A nursing home. Then you’ll really have people stealing from you. I’m not young anymore either. I can’t keep carrying you around with my bad back. This is a blessing, Vera.”
Most of the formalities fell by the wayside sometime between Trixie’s third baby and Vera’s second stroke, the years blurring lines between us. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t pay for speaking my mind. Vera had ways of making my life difficult when it suited her.
The house was busy as a beehive that week. By Thanksgiving Day, the old house that used to feel like a mausoleum was suddenly full of noise and light and life. Even Vera couldn’t hide her pleasure at seeing her grandchildren every day. Little Vera was the spitting image of her mother, which was a slap in the face at first. But once Vera realized that her namesake shared her sharp intelligence and wry sense of humor, the two were thick as thieves. Margot and Teddy Junior took after their father with their emerald eyes and honey-colored hair.
Vera let her guard down a little in those early days. She taught Little Vera to play solitaire, played endless tea party games with Margot, and entertained Teddy Junior with stories about his father’s childhood escapades. The children set up camp in Vera’s room from the moment they woke up in the morning until Trixie dragged them to bed in the evening. Their toys cluttered the corners of her bedroom, adding an atmosphere of chaotic joy to their grandmother’s grim existence. Vera was their captive audience, but I could tell she didn’t mind. She always had a little smile on her face, even when I was putting her hair in rollers at bedtime.
“Maybe you were right, Mary,” she whispered one evening. She said it so quietly that I thought it was a mistake at first. I looked at the two old women in the mirror. Where had the time gone? And what did we have to show for it? Tears rolled down Vera’s cheeks.
I gave her a pat on the arm and turned to go. Vera and I were never much for sentimentality.
Yes, things were going along just fine at first. The children were enamored with Vera. Trixie threw herself into running the house and caring for Vera the way she did everything. She was still the same Pollyanna girl Teddy had brought home years ago. Her red hair now had threads of silver, but she was still a ray of sunshine. Teddy was busy with his law practice, but he had a way of making sure everyone in his life felt like they were his only priority. He held Trixie’s hand as they watched television in the evenings and whisked her into the pantry for a secret kiss when he thought no one was looking. He knew his children’s lives and the names of their best friends.
I guess you could say they were the perfect family. They were the family I always wished I could have, but never would. But you know what they say – nothing lasts forever. And everyone shows their true colors eventually.
Vera went downhill fast after Christmas. On some days, she was agitated and paranoid – constantly calling Trixie into her room to accuse her of one wrong after another. A valuable painting was missing from the dining room, a first edition was missing from the library, or some other nonsense. And poor Trixie was always to blame in Vera’s eyes. Other days, it seemed Vera could do little else but sleep. I would come through the door each morning and I could tell just by looking at Trixie what kind of day we were in for. Vera had us all walking on eggshells. Someone was bound to break eventually.
I answered a knock at the door one Tuesday afternoon. Andy Wilkins stood in the doorway in his police uniform. It’s Officer Wilkins now, I suppose. But it’s hard to think of him that way when I used to change his diapers. I used to nanny for his family – back before I took the job with the Kingsleys.
“Andy!” I exclaimed in surprise, “What brings you by?”
Andy looked sheepish, holding his hat in his hands. He explained that they’d received a call from Mrs. Kingsley about a theft. Could he please speak to her?
Andy slipped past me and went up the staircase to Vera’s room. Trixie appeared in the foyer with a frown.
“Is that a police car in the driveway?” she whispered.
Our eyes met and we suddenly understood. By the time we got to Vera’s room, she was red-faced and ranting incoherently. Andy stood at the foot of her bed with a bewildered expression on his face.
“There she is!” Vera shouted, pointing a finger at Trixie, “That’s the bitch who’s been stealing from me! China, jewelry, my television set, all missing and she’s the one behind it all!”
I approached Vera’s bed slowly.
“Vera,” I began, “We’ve talked about this. Your television is in town being fixed. Teddy is picking it up tomorrow.”
Vera began cackling madly.
“I should have known,” she crowed, “What, did the little tramp offer to give you a cut of the loot? Shame on you, Mary!”
She turned to glare at the policeman, “Are you getting all this?”
I suppose I can’t blame him. Andy was new to the force and didn’t know any better. He drove Trixie down to the station for questioning. An irate Teddy had to leave work to come pick her up. He explained to Andy as calmly as he could manage about his mother’s mental state. When the chief learned what had happened, he personally came to the station to apologize.
Trixie went straight to her bedroom when she came home that evening. Shut the door and stayed there all night. I left a tray outside her room at suppertime, but it went untouched. Trixie and Teddy were arguing in the kitchen when I arrived the next morning.
“I’m sorry, Ted,” Trixie hissed, “I can’t take her abuse any longer. It’s been ten years and she still treats me like dog shit she scraped off her shoe.”
“I know, Trix, but she’s sick,” Teddy pleaded, “I talked to the police department and they’re going to let me know if they get any more calls from her. It’s not going to happen again.”
There was the scrape of a chair being pushed back from the kitchen table.
“I need time, Ted. I’m going to stay with my sister for a while.”
“Trix, please –“
“She’s your mom, Ted, not mine. It’s not like I haven’t tried,” Trixie’s voice broke at this.
She was out the door a moment later, clutching the same suitcase she brought home from her honeymoon years ago. After all this time, Vera finally got what she wanted.
The house was quiet again that night. Trixie’s mother had come to pick up the children after lunch. I felt their absence like an ache. I was finishing up the dishes when Teddy finally came out of his study with sunken, bloodshot eyes.
“The agency’s sending a night nurse tomorrow,” he said, running a hand through his unkempt hair, “Could you stay a few days until she gets settled?”
I turned to face him.
“When are you leaving?” I asked.
“In the morning,” he muttered, avoided my gaze.
“Are you going to say goodbye?”
He shook his head, “I don’t think I can, Mary.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but thought better of it. What’s done is done.
“Goodnight, Teddy.”
He kissed my cheek and left the room. I could still smell the whiskey on his breath when I heard his study door click shut.
Vera was reading a magazine when I went upstairs to tuck her in for the night. She had a satisfied smile on her thin lips.
Sometimes when I think about Vera now, I wonder if she realized what this victory had cost her. Was there ever a point when she realized her own true colors? When she was taking her last breath with a stranger by her side, did she have even a flicker of clarity? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Vera was always too proud to see the worm in her own apple.
“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Vera asked in a raspy voice.
“Yes,” I said simply.
I eased her down onto the pillow and tucked the blankets around her thin frame, my hands brushing against papery skin. The room looked empty without the children’s toys. I wondered if Vera could still hear their echoing laughter.
She gave a satisfied chuckle.
“See, Mary?” she asked, “I told you she’d show her true colors.”
“Yes, Vera,” I replied, “You were right.”
I turned out the light and left her staring into the darkness.
*****
Hillary Short is a fiction writer from Cleveland, Ohio. This is a debut.
