Back Home Again (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A
lice was just finishing up her final rounds at the hospital when she noticed a portly woman hurrying down the hallway toward her. She was too far away to see her face clearly, but her distinctive march was a dead giveaway.

“Alice!” called Florence Simpson, huffing her way toward her. “Have you got a minute?”

Alice closed her clipboard and forced a congenial smile to her lips. “I’m just finishing up, Florence. What can I do for you? Medical emergency?”

“No, no.” Florence shook her head and caught her breath. “I was just visiting my great-nephew on my husband’s side, tonsillectomy.”

“How’s young Bradley doing?”

“He’s fine. Spoiled rotten, but recovering just fine.” Florence lowered her voice. “Now, tell me, Alice Howard, what in the world is going on at your house? Last week it looked like a splotchy mess, but Ethel reassured me at church that it was only temporary. Now I drive by the place
today, and it looks like it’s the color of dried mud. Were you aware of this?”

Alice smiled. “We prefer to call it ‘cocoa.’ Actually, we are painting it the historically correct colors, Florence. You know it’s listed in the historic register, and these things must be done correctly.”

“But muddy brown? How can that be right? Everyone in town knows that the house has always been the peachy color.”

Alice shook her head. “Not in the beginning. We are painting it the original colors.”

“Well, even if it
was
that color in the beginning—and I’m not even convinced of that, although I suppose it’s possible that your ancestors didn’t have very good sense—but at least someone in your family had the wits about him to paint it something other than that awful muddy brown? Good night, what could you people have been thinking?”

“Just that we want to keep it historically accurate.” Alice glanced at the reception nurse as if to hint that it might be a good time for an interruption now, but Lola just stood there and watched.

“People in town, not to mention the church, are
not
going to like this,” warned Florence. “Mark my word, Alice Howard, you haven’t heard the end of this yet.”

“No, I figured I hadn’t.”

Florence smiled that odd little smile that never seemed to engage her eyes. “I just thought that I should let you know about my concerns in person, Alice. It seemed the Christian thing to do.”

“I appreciate your taking the time.”

Alice tried not to fume as she drove home. She reminded herself that Jesus had said to “love your enemies.” Not that Florence was her enemy exactly, but with friends like that…. Alice also remembered that Jesus had said to “pray for those who persecuted you.” That seemed to fit too. So as she drove, she prayed. “Dear heavenly Father, please help me to be patient with those who don’t understand what we’re trying to accomplish with our little inn. Teach me to be more loving and kind toward people like Florence.” She pressed her lips together, then finally said, “And please bless Florence and show her how much You love her. Amen.” Alice sighed. It wasn’t always easy to do as the Bible instructed, but in the end it was always worth the effort.

Over the years, she had grown used to being involved in the little flaps that regularly occurred in their church. They were usually other people’s problems, and she would come alongside them as the peacemaker. She wasn’t accustomed to being an actual part of the problem, and she found it incredibly stressful. Sometimes she
wondered if this business of creating an inn would really be worth it in the long run. Then she remembered the fun just yesterday when she and her sisters stripped away layer upon layer of wallpaper. It was like a family history lesson. They had laughed and joked and shared hot peppermint cocoa and all gone to bed tired and happy. Today she simply felt tired. Even though she had gone to parttime at the hospital, it seemed that her days were fuller than ever before. She wondered if it was realistic to keep up this pace indefinitely. The idea of giving up the security of her job, or even an early retirement, worried her even more. The truth was, it still bothered her to have switched over to part-time. What if some sort of financial emergency arose?

She parked in front of the house and stepped out to see the progress. They had started the actual painting three days ago, but it was just starting to look as if they were getting somewhere. She knew the late afternoon light wasn’t the best time to view the new color, but just the same she thought she liked it. It really had a warm, cozy, inviting feel, sort of like a cup of cocoa on a cold winter night. And now that Jane was getting some of the lower pieces of trim painted, it seemed to come to life even more.

“What do you think?” called Jane as she climbed down
from a six-foot ladder and wiped her hands on a rag that was tied to her overalls. Jane wore a big smile and a red bandana to hold back her dark hair.

“I like it,” said Alice.

“Really?” Jane looked hopeful. “That hasn’t exactly been the consensus around here, you know.”

“I know. Florence just paid me a visit at the hospital.”

“You’re kidding! She actually went to your workplace? That woman has some nerve.”

“She was already there visiting her great-nephew.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet she just
happened
to be there too. Just like she just
happened
to be driving by here this morning, and the next thing you know she’s standing on the sidewalk throwing one of her ‘I’m going to call an emergency board meeting’ sort of flips.”

“Hi, girls.” Louise stepped out onto the porch wearing Jane’s apron. “Did Jane tell you that I’m on KP tonight?”

“Yeah, since I’m doing hard labor, it seemed only fair that Louise should cook.”

Alice nodded, but wondered,
fair to whom
?

“You look tired, Alice,” said Louise. “Long day?”

Alice shrugged.

“Aren’t you glad you switched over to part-time?” asked Jane.

“I guess so.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you did, Alice.” Jane grabbed her hand. “It’s more fun when you’re around here.”

“Fun?” Alice peered curiously at her younger sister. “Are you just looking for another willing worker?”

“Working on the house
is
fun.” Jane held her chin up. “I love watching it get fixed up and painted. Honestly, I think that’s great fun.”

Alice nodded. “Yes, so do I.”

“So are you glad about it now?”

“About working on the house?”

“No, silly. About going part-time.”

“I think so, but it just takes some getting used to.”

“Dinner is almost ready,” announced Louise. “Tonight we’re having my special corn chowder.”

Alice nodded, hoping her face looked more enthusiastic than she felt. She had tasted Louise’s “special corn chowder” more times than she cared to remember.

“Is this the same corn chowder you used to make when we were kids?” asked Jane as Louise headed back into the house.

“That’s right,” called Louise over her shoulder.

Jane poked Alice in the arm. “Maybe you can distract Louise by asking to see the fresh paint in her bedroom while I try to doctor up the soup a bit.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s worth a shot. I, for one, happen to be hungry tonight.”

Alice grinned. “I’m in.”

To Alice’s pleased surprise, the corn chowder wasn’t half bad. In fact, she even had seconds. Louise kept taking little bites and tasting them with puckered lips, as if something was slightly amiss.

“Louise, is something wrong with your chowder?” asked Jane, suppressing a smile.

“It just tastes different, somehow, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Well, I think it’s the best you’ve ever made,” said Alice, honestly.

Louise smiled. “Really? Well, thank you, dear. I always did pride myself on my corn chowder. It’s a recipe that’s been in our family for years. Aunt Ethel gave it to me when I was still a teenager.”

“Oh, that figures,” said Jane, turning to wink at Alice. “So what did you think of Louise’s bedroom color, Alice?”

Alice tried to think of something positive to say about the stark walls now trimmed in a pale shade of green paint that reminded her of the operating room scrub uniforms. “Well, it looked very clean and bright, and nicely done.”

“Oh, it’ll look much better when we get the wallpaper up
and my things are put into place,” said Louise. “Right now it’s just a blank slate, but I’ll make it my own before long.”

By the end of the following week, Alice felt as if she had been pulled in a dozen different directions. Two of the nurses on her staff were caught in a squabble over a private matter that seemed irresolvable to Alice. She was afraid she would have to let one of them go but couldn’t decide whether to keep the one who seemed the least to blame or the one who was a better nurse. She hated making decisions like this. On top of that, she had been getting phone calls and visits at work from people like Florence and Lloyd and even Aunt Ethel. On the home front, she was constantly finding herself caught in the middle between her two sisters’ tastes in paint colors, wallpapers and basically every single element found in interior design.

“I think we should allow the house to breathe a little,” Jane would insist. “Clear some of the junk out and let it be more contemporary.”

“You’re trying to compromise its historical integrity,” Louise would declare. “This is, after all, a Victorian era house. It should be filled with Victorian era furnishings.” On they would go for what seemed like hours.

Fortunately, Alice had discovered only today that the county historical committee was more concerned with the exterior of the house than with the interior.

“Alice Howard?” said the woman on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know if we’ve met since I’m fairly new in the area. My name is Irene Watts, and I’m on the county historic preservation committee.” She cleared her throat, and Alice braced herself. “There have been numerous complaints in regard to your choice of exterior paint colors.”

“Why are you calling me at work?” asked Alice.

“Well, I stopped by your house earlier today, and your two sisters were … shall I say, involved in a lively discussion about wallpaper choices. I attempted to broach the exterior paint subject with them, but the older one—Louise, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Louise seemed more interested in pinning me down on the necessity of maintaining the historical accuracy in the interior.”

“I see.” Alice sighed.

“When I informed both of them that the historical society has no intention of playing Big Brother when it comes to a home’s interior, your other sister seemed to feel that this was her green light to turn the house into something more modern. I just want to make it perfectly clear that it’s only the exterior colors and outside renovations that concern us.”

“Thank you, that’s good to know. So you’re saying we can do as please with the interior?”

“Well, as long as you don’t do something terribly radical or extreme. We wouldn’t want to see the historical integrity compromised.”

“How would you define radical or extreme?”

“For instance we wouldn’t like to see you putting in a bowling alley or movie theater.” She laughed. “Although I must admit that those things have been done in some cases without creating any problems. But whether you use modern furnishings or antiques is of absolutely no interest to our group.”

“Oh.”

“I think I simply caught your sisters at an awkward moment,” explained Irene in a softer tone. “I ran into Lloyd Tynan at the Coffee Shop—he’s an old friend. Anyway, he suggested I might try calling the hospital and directing my concerns to you. He seemed to think you’d be a good mediator.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, my main question is this: What was your reasoning for choosing those particular exterior colors?”

Alice barely mentioned the name of the firm of color experts before she was interrupted.

“You’re kidding? How did you hear about them?”

“My sister knew about them. She’s from San Francisco and—”

“Well, she’s one smart lady.”

“So, are we okay then, on the exterior colors?” Alice asked.

“Of course. You’ve done it just right. I must say that I personally like the colors a lot, and I was interested in how you managed to come up with something that seemed so historically appropriate, but I had no idea that you’d gone to such trouble. People like you make our jobs so much easier.”

“What about the flak I’ve heard that the townsfolk have been giving your committee?” Alice sighed. “And us.”

“Oh, I’ve seen all this before. Especially in small towns like Acorn Hill, but, trust me, people will get used to it in time.”

“In time.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll try to spread the word around that your house is A-OK with me and the historical society.”

“Thanks so much. We’d appreciate that.”

“If you have any questions, please, feel free to call. I left my card with your sisters.”

“Great. We’ll be sure to do that.”

“I don’t want to make you feel paranoid, but I’d love to check in from time to time, just to see your progress. It’s such a beautiful home, so much potential.”