Page 9 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
Henry
PS—Just out of curiosity, as a woman, what do you think of Goldie Hawn?
Henry set the note in the same spot he’d found Edith’s, right where Grandma Dee used to leave a plate of her cookies. Since his parents had him later in life—a big surprise to both them and his twenty-one-year-old brother at the time—Henry didn’t remember his other set of grandparents. Barely remembered Grandpa Joe. But Grandma Dee, he not only remembered, he adored. She was special. Something told him this Edith might be special too.
And now a glance at his watch told him he better get moving if he wanted to swing by the historical society and touch base about an upcoming project before he put in a few hours at the office. He grabbed his grandfather’s cane, wincing at how stiff his knee felt from just that short time sitting. He’d hoped to not need the extra help by now, but after the assault his leg took at the diner, he feared he and this cane might turn into lifelong partners.
He squeezed the curved wooden handle.No.Before he could change his mind, he propped it against his chair and forced his feet to keep moving.
Behind the closed doors of his own home was one thing, but as the new boss of his family’s company, he needed this town to see him standing on his own two feet without any assistance, be it a cane or his retired brother. He limped out the back door toward his truck.
And prayed he didn’t fall flat on his face again.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I feel bad putting you to work right away.” Sharon, the director of the crisis nursery center, twisted open a set of white window blinds. Golden sunlight flooded the beige walls.
“Tomorrow night isn’t right away. Besides, the whole reason I’m here is to help.” And avoid Steve. Okay, maybe the whole reason she was here was to avoid Steve. But that didn’t make her desire to do something helpful as she avoided Steve less worthy, did it?
Edith stared down at the crib where a potted elephant ear plant and three succulents sat. Her eyes wandered over to the baby changing station. A fern and maybe an African violet? She wasn’t sure.
“Um...” Edith cleared her throat. When she jumped at the opportunity to volunteer at this crisis nursery center,she’d assumed it was aninfantcrisis nursery center. So far the only thing she’d seen swaddled in a baby blanket was the potted snake plant downstairs in the living room. “Is this a typical day here? I mean, you do get babies. Not just...” Edith waved to the plants.
Sharon chuckled, running her finger over the crib rail. “Yes. I assure you the purpose of this home is to provide shelter to human babies in crisis. But somehow Gladys—you’ll see her flying around town in her motorized wheelchair—got the impression this was a nursery center for plants in crisis. She kept dropping off all her houseplants. Pretty soon others started following suit and well, now...” Sharon inhaled a deep breath. “Let’s just say every room of this house is very well oxygenated.”
“Isn’t that a good thing, though? I mean, to have a house full of plants rather than babies?”
“It is if we’re not needed. But I’ve worked too many years in social services to know that can change on a dime, even in a small town like this. We might go an entire week without seeing a single baby, then be up to our ears in dirty diapers because four single working moms suddenly lost their childcare arrangements and need us to fill in for a few days. We’ve seen all sorts of scenarios. Which is why I need at least one person on-site twenty-four hours a day.”
Sharon plucked a dead leaf from a plant on the dresser and dropped it into the trash. “Now you’re certain you won’t mind covering some of the night shifts? You’ll need to stay awake. One of our volunteers slept through three drop-offs. We can’t have that.”
“Nights won’t be a problem. I worked nights in the ER. Nights, days, wherever you need me, just let me know.”
“Wonderful. The summer months are usually the toughest to schedule because of vacations. Of course, some of the college students are home on summer break, so they’re able to help fill in some of the holes. I promise not to work you to death. This town may be small, but you’ll be surprised at the number of activities we have going on throughout the summer. I do want you to be able to enjoy your time while you’re here.”
The wooden floorboards creaked beneath their steps as Sharon led Edith out of the upstairs bedroom to the stairway. “The gala is always a blast, especially if you like to dance. There’s also the annual pancake breakfast out at the old airport, the Fourth of July carnival downtown—we usually help out with the medical tent—then the summer league baseball tournament...”
Edith followed Sharon down the stairs, half-listening. Black-and-white photos, mixed in with more recent photos, captured her attention on the wall. Pictures of Westshire, she assumed. The town square. A marquee advertisingGone with the Wind. A barbershop quartet. Ribbon-cutting ceremonies.
She recognized the crisis house in one of the photos near the bottom. A sea-green Victorian with white trim on the outside, original woodwork and crown molding on the inside, it reminded her of Henry’s house. “This house is gorgeous.”
“What?” Sharon grabbed the banister at the bottom of the stairs and twisted around, following Edith’s gaze. “Oh, thank you. You should have seen it when I first bought it. It would have sent chills down your spine. My husband thought I was crazy when I told him I wanted to use it as a service to the community. He said the greater service would be bulldozingit to the ground. Thankfully once Walter got rid of the wallpaper and pulled back the carpet to reveal the original flooring, my husband started seeing the potential.”
“Walter?”
“Yes. Wonderful man. Talented artist too. Maybe you’ve seen the mural he did on the side of the old boiler factory? No? Well, very talented. Just like his older son. Or I should saywastalented. He’s dead now. Walter, not the son. His son is very much alive. He just retired from running the company so he could move closer to his wife’s parents because you know how it is. They’re starting to get up there in years, could use the extra help. So now Walter’s younger son has taken over, and I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this.”
“I wasn’t really sure either, but you were on such a roll.” They shared a laugh, and Edith knew she and Sharon were going to get along just fine this summer.
Sharon lifted her palm. “Next time hold your hand up like a stop sign. It’s what my kids do whenever I get carried away—or start telling a story they’ve already heard a dozen times.”
Edith followed Sharon into the kitchen. A plant with long vines spilled over the top of the refrigerator and several smaller plants were spread across the countertops. “How many kids do you have?”
“Five. All grown and out of the house. Coffee?” Edith nodded and Sharon grabbed two mugs from a cabinet. “Only James, my youngest, still lives in Westshire. The rest have pretty much spread out to every corner of the country. Cream or sugar?”
“No thanks.” Edith accepted the hot mug, inhaling thefresh aroma of coffee. “Five kids. Wow. Bet your house never knew a moment of quiet.”
Sharon’s eyes widened in feigned terror as she leaned back against the counter. “I think that’s why this crisis center is so important to me. I remember how hectic it was at times. Good, don’t get me wrong. But very hectic. Very loud. Very stressful. Especially when James came along. We had not been planning for a number five. And we certainly hadn’t been planning for my husband to lose his job the minute number five arrived. Believe me, I know what it feels like to be in the midst of a crisis. To feel like you don’t have enough support. To feel like you just need somebody to take this screaming baby out of your hands for a few hours before you do something bad. Like get in the car and drive away, never to return. I was about there. Oh, honey, I was about there.”
