The town was so quaint and old-fashioned that Kathleen felt like she’d gone back in time. No wonder Aunt Edna had led such a happy life here.
When her great-aunt was in hospice, they’d had time to connect on a personal level, talking as much as they could, considering her aunt’s weakened state. Edna Clark was a simple woman in the best possible way. She’d lived a life of quiet contentment, doing good where she could, doling out kind words or smiles on a continuous basis. Even when she was near death, she’d been gracious to Kathleen and her mother and the nurses, thanking them for something as basic as a paper cup of ice chips, and saying how lucky she was to have family at her side.
She didn’t seem to regret never having married or her lack of children. Aunt Edna’s very being exuded acceptance and love. At her funeral, the local attorney cornered Kathleen and her mother, asking if they’d come to his office the next morning. That’s when she discovered her inheritance. Her mother, the only other living relative, signed off on any claim to the estate, and it was all hers. It was a miracle. She’d needed a place to live that Ricky didn’t know about, and Pullman, Wisconsin, dropped at her feet and welcomed her home.
The will had been dated one week after Kathleen and her mother had arrived in Pullman. They realized later that Aunt Edna must have had the attorney come to the hospital to do the paperwork. It had been witnessed by a doctor and a nurse.
Maybe Kathleen had said something that indicated her desperation? She didn’t think so, but perhaps it was evident from things unsaid. When asked about her husband, Kathleen had simply said it didn’t work out and that they weren’t married anymore. Aunt Edna said she was sorry to hear that, which was what everybody said. Everyone was sympathetic, but not everybody followed up by giving her a house and a business.
So she stayed, slipping into Aunt Edna’s life like putting on custom-made slippers. A perfect fit. Her parents called every week, and her mother wrote her letters too. They missed her and wanted to know if she was happy. The truth was, she was perfectly content.
“Content isn’t the same thing as happy,” her mother said.
“No, but it’s close,” she said. “Really close.” At least the door to happiness was open, and she knew she’d get there eventually. Right now, she’d take contentment, along with satisfaction in her work and peace of mind. She needed time to refuel, for her mind and body to be restored.
That night Kathleen went into the kitchen, made herself a sandwich, and poured a glass of iced tea. She carried both into the living room, setting the plate and glass down on the end table and opening her latest book, chosen randomly from Aunt Edna’s bookshelf. The woman hadn’t let her down yet. Her taste in fiction was spot-on.
She was halfway through chapter 12 in a novel titled Crooked House when she heard the metallic flap of the mail slot lift and drop again. What? It was hours after mail delivery, already dark. If it was a neighbor dropping off mail they’d gotten by mistake, they’d probably have called out or rung the doorbell.
Setting down the book, she went to the entryway and flipped on the overhead light. On the rug at her feet was a single sheet of paper. She picked it up, relieved to see it was just a business flyer, an ad for a cleaning service. Across the top it said: Trouble keeping organized? Feeling like something is missing in your life? We can transform your cluttered rooms into spaces of peace and love. We’re more than just a cleaning service: we’ll teach you the proper methods to keep your life in order. Bullet points down the center of the page listed all their services. Cleaning, organizing, decluttering. At the bottom, it said, Don’t say no. Call now!
Kathleen crushed the sheet of paper into a little ball and tossed it onto the floor in a small show of defiance. No, thanks, she thought. She didn’t need anyone teaching her how to organize her house or her life. She was in charge now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
1983
As Joe drifted off to sleep, he thought about what his grandmother had said earlier about her older sister, Alice. I haven’t been able to talk about her for a long time. She died young, too young. It was the biggest tragedy of my life. He thought he could envision how heartbreaking a sister’s death would be, remembering the time Linda was hospitalized for meningitis. The whole family had been out of their minds with worry. Linda, of all people! The family baby, the girl whose entrance into the world had brought them all closer together. Linda, who looked up to him, bragging about him to all her friends. He didn’t even want to think about how it would be if she hadn’t pulled through and come home safe and sound. Losing his sister would have been devastating.