He stopped moving and looked pointedly at me. “I won’t think it’s wonderful.”
I kissed the top of his head, which seemed to be the only answer I had lately.
When we returned home that evening, worn-out and hungry, the innkeeper of Avoco House entered the kitchen. Mrs. Bagley had her hair wrapped in a bright-red handkerchief and her robe buttoned tight with a belt pulled into a knot that looked too strained to hold.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gresham,” she said with her crinkled smile that had become familiar in a homey way.
“Good afternoon to you in return.” I slipped off my coat and hat to smile at her as the boys and I sat at the small oak table for afternoon tea and biscuits.
Mrs. Bagley sat with us. Her double chin bobbled up and down with her smile and nod. Her warm brown eyes, set deeply in the folds of her eyelids, seemed to see right through me. “You must be very tired, my dears, from all the travel and adjustments.”
“I can’t even begin to tell you,” I said and exhaled, relaxed. “But there’s much to be done, and honestly, Mrs. Bagley, I don’t believe I can afford to stay here at the inn for much longer.”
“Tell me, dear, what is your situation?”
I paused in embarrassment, but then relinquished the truth to her kind eyes. “I’m going through a terrible divorce and can’t yet lawfully search for a job. Right now I’m a single mother without enough money.” I glanced at Douglas and Davy and didn’t elaborate.
Mrs. Bagley’s downcast eyes filled with understanding. “I have been in your spot.” She rubbed her face as if the memory itched. “Almost thirty years ago I was alone with a young daughter and baby son. I’m here to tell you that it was most awful, but we rose from those ashes and were better for it.” She punctuated her remarks with another firm nod. “Listen, Mrs. Gresham, I have a townhome annex for twelve guineas a month. Would you like to see if it is satisfactory for you?” She smiled at Davy and Douglas, who moved closer to my side.
I calculated in my mind: that was thirty-six dollars. It was less than what I paid now and a tad more than I could afford. But I could find a job. Bill had finally sent sixty dollars, and if I stretched I could make it work.
“Yes,” I said. “Please. I have searched, but no one wants to take in a boarder with two young boys.”
“I know,” she said. “I do know.”
The brief walk to the annex was cold and rainy, an omen I ignored. But when Mrs. Bagley opened the doorway to the rooms, I was flooded with relief. I remembered, with such remorse and melancholy, the first time Bill and I had walked into our house in Staatsburg, chock-full of dreams with our babies and our money and our optimism. But as I walked through the front door of the Avoco House annex, my dreams had tapered down to the most simple: peace, safety, and rest in God.
I walked through the front door and into the square living area with high molded plaster ceilings, a room the same size as our living room in Staatsburg. And it was furnished! There was a woman, short and bundled in a coat, her hat pulled low over a weary face with a broad smile, standing at the far end of the room. I startled and jumped back before I ripped into laughter. I pointed. “I thought that was someone in the house.” The image pointed back at me from a floor-to-ceiling built-in mirror surrounded by ornate trim.
Mrs. Bagley laughed also. “Yes, that has happened before.”
“This is a beautiful duplex.” I exhaled in relief.
“Well, let’s show you around.”
We walked to the far side of the room, and my attention shifted as my hand flew over my mouth, stifling my cry. “A grand piano.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Bagley said. “We can have it removed if you’d like.”
I didn’t answer but went straight to it, lifted its cover, and ran a quick scale, the out-of-tune instrument rising to life beneath my hands. “No,” I said. “Please leave it here.”
“We will have music,” Davy said to Douglas, serious and sure.
Mrs. Bagley smiled. As we walked down the hall she told us, “It’s heated by gas. No shoveling coal here.”
“What a relief that will be,” I said quietly.
“There is daily housekeeping from the inn with linens and bed making. Breakfast and lunch are across the street at the main, and you have a small kitchen, which you share with the other residents.” She pointed to a door. “Down there—that’s where the shared bathrooms are as well.”
Off the side of the living room sat a small table and a counter with a gas ring for light cooking if I didn’t want to venture to the kitchen. There were two bedrooms, one for the boys at the front of the house and mine in the back. Davy walked into their room first, running to the high bed and turning to me with laughter. “How does a boy get into this bed?”