NURTURE/DESTROY Episode 3
Episode 3
“Stop fussing!”
Blinking at Lois in her rocker, Mrs. Fairday huffed. “I am not accustomed to being addressed like that, Miss Quacious.”
“Sunny Valley will not be sued. My niece removed her valuables before allowing little Seth to play with that dratted puppy purse. So don’t be concerned. Please, I’m tired.”
“Sunny Valley wants only the best for its residents.”
“Then please let this resident rest.”
Drawing down her frilly blouse, Mrs. Fairday strode out, closing the door to #231 with studied gentleness.
“Twit,” Lois seethed. For long minutes she studied the trail of red braided into her rag rug. How she’d loved that blouse. Ma had dyed grain sacks to surprise her for her eleventh birthday. Ah, the love! “Love costs,” Lois hissed. And how it cost! Ah, Quint. Children do things never knowing what price their loved ones pay to protect them. “And you never will know. Not from me!”
Lois woke up stiff and sweating, still in her rocker. What had Ada meant? Who was opening the cold case? Murder? How could they think Ma and Pa had been murdered? It was an accident. The buck’s antlers shattered the windshield – and Ma. Pa had twisted the steering wheel into a pretzel.
Chilled, Lois struggled to get up. She needed to sleep. To heal. She was here in Sunny Valley. More like the Valley of Death, but I better not say that to Fairday, she chuckled on the way to a warm shower.
At breakfast, a man bent nearly chin-to-chest slowed as he passed Lois’s chair near the window by the courtyard. As he nodded, Lois feared he might tumble forward and fall, but his manner was so gentlemanly that she bit her lip to say nothing.
“Top o’ the mornin’, Ma’am. Tom Archer.”
“Mr. Archer.” Lois smiled.
“How soon does the youngster need that puppy?” Archer twisted slightly to peer at her from one glittering blue eye.
“What? Need? Why, never, I suppose.”
“Wisdom in the Quacious clan,” Archer raised one hand away from curved body as though in salute and shuffled on to his table near the foyer.
“Tom’s a strange duck,” a plump woman with bright pink cheeks sat at Lois’s right. “I’m Abby – Abigail Mortensen. And this lady coming is Bernadine Rice. Frank Trofred will be late. Always is. But if Tom bothers you, Frank will be frank with him.” Grinning at her own joke, Abby dived into her poached egg as soon as it was set before her.
Watching her, Lois found she wasn’t hungry. “Just hot chocolate, please,” she smiled at the slender redheaded waitress. It was good to see smooth skin.
Precisely at 10:30, an authoritative knock rapped on Lois’s door. Silent Sam, Alf and Ada’s gaunt giant of a son, led in two beefy men who had to be policemen. Lois heard only snatches of their requests for information.
“But it was all in the police records. Montgomery County court house.”
“Burned down.”
Lois closed her eyes.
“Stop fussing!”
Blinking at Lois in her rocker, Mrs. Fairday huffed. “I am not accustomed to being addressed like that, Miss Quacious.”
“Sunny Valley will not be sued. My niece removed her valuables before allowing little Seth to play with that dratted puppy purse. So don’t be concerned. Please, I’m tired.”
“Sunny Valley wants only the best for its residents.”
“Then please let this resident rest.”
Drawing down her frilly blouse, Mrs. Fairday strode out, closing the door to #231 with studied gentleness.
“Twit,” Lois seethed. For long minutes she studied the trail of red braided into her rag rug. How she’d loved that blouse. Ma had dyed grain sacks to surprise her for her eleventh birthday. Ah, the love! “Love costs,” Lois hissed. And how it cost! Ah, Quint. Children do things never knowing what price their loved ones pay to protect them. “And you never will know. Not from me!”
Lois woke up stiff and sweating, still in her rocker. What had Ada meant? Who was opening the cold case? Murder? How could they think Ma and Pa had been murdered? It was an accident. The buck’s antlers shattered the windshield – and Ma. Pa had twisted the steering wheel into a pretzel.
Chilled, Lois struggled to get up. She needed to sleep. To heal. She was here in Sunny Valley. More like the Valley of Death, but I better not say that to Fairday, she chuckled on the way to a warm shower.
At breakfast, a man bent nearly chin-to-chest slowed as he passed Lois’s chair near the window by the courtyard. As he nodded, Lois feared he might tumble forward and fall, but his manner was so gentlemanly that she bit her lip to say nothing.
“Top o’ the mornin’, Ma’am. Tom Archer.”
“Mr. Archer.” Lois smiled.
“How soon does the youngster need that puppy?” Archer twisted slightly to peer at her from one glittering blue eye.
“What? Need? Why, never, I suppose.”
“Wisdom in the Quacious clan,” Archer raised one hand away from curved body as though in salute and shuffled on to his table near the foyer.
“Tom’s a strange duck,” a plump woman with bright pink cheeks sat at Lois’s right. “I’m Abby – Abigail Mortensen. And this lady coming is Bernadine Rice. Frank Trofred will be late. Always is. But if Tom bothers you, Frank will be frank with him.” Grinning at her own joke, Abby dived into her poached egg as soon as it was set before her.
Watching her, Lois found she wasn’t hungry. “Just hot chocolate, please,” she smiled at the slender redheaded waitress. It was good to see smooth skin.
Precisely at 10:30, an authoritative knock rapped on Lois’s door. Silent Sam, Alf and Ada’s gaunt giant of a son, led in two beefy men who had to be policemen. Lois heard only snatches of their requests for information.
“But it was all in the police records. Montgomery County court house.”
“Burned down.”
Lois closed her eyes.
posted by TAWK Press at 7:22 AM
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