Chapter 24
The escalators became dizzying and the myriad packages cumbersome as she tried to keep up with her sister. Her arms were indented and felt like she’d been beaten with a whip.
“One more stop,” Cecelia announced, “then it’s your turn.”
“My turn?” Edwina tried not to be unkind.
“Yes, I told you I’d buy you a birthday gift.”
“I don’t want one... but thank you. Consider the trip my gift.” She thought it appropriate. Besides, they’d be here another two hours trying to decide on something.
“No. Not fair. What about . . .” Cecelia was off again.
After an hour, Edwina wanted to cry. “Cece, let’s go. I’m hungry and my feet hurt.”
“Well, if you’d buy yourself some decent shoes—” Then she stopped.
Edwina crashed into her.
“That’s it, we’ll buy you some Birkenstocks for your birthday.” Cecelia headed in the opposite direction.
“I don’t want Birkenstocks. I’d never wear them.”
“You’ll wear them. They are the most comfortable shoes, Ed.”
Twenty minutes and four stores later, they were seated in “the best shoe store,” Cecelia had reminded her at least three times on the way.
“What color do you prefer? Oh never mind, let me choose. It takes you forever to make a decision.” Her sister cooed at the shoe salesman as he carried out several boxes of shoes.
Sure enough, the shoes were wonderfully comfortable and had better be. Cecelia had whipped out one of her credit cards and with one swipe tossed over two hundred dollars for a simple birthday present.
“Never walk in puddles, oil patches, or wear these shoes unless you want to impress.” Her sister taught the etiquette class as they walked to the parking garage.
Edwina wished she had on the soft shoes on this very moment, oil patches or no.
“Are you listening, Edwina?”
“I’m listening.”
“When we return, make yourself at home. I’m off to another meeting.” She checked the exquisite piece of jewelry at her slender wrist.
“I’ll be happy to make myself at home. Your place is really nice, Cece. You’ve done a good job decorating and taking charge of your life, especially after your father... well, you know.”
“Yes, incredible isn’t it? I had no idea I could do as well as I have without that income. It just goes to show, if you work hard, everything will come to you.”
Edwina wanted to teach her sister a lesson of her own. She knew very well that work did not always get you what you wanted in life. A rich father, an actress mother, and a beautiful bone structure were much more conducive to success in this world than her sister realized.
Now she was being facetious; in her heart of hearts, she knew that was not true. Not even for a minute. Sorry, Lord, I’m becoming quite the complainer myself these days.
“Well, you’ve done well, Cece.”
“Thank you.” Cecelia seemed to want to say more, but nothing came out of her mouth. They drove home immersed in silence, which shocked
Edwina. Once parked in the garage, they toted bag after bag to the elevator. “I’ll be off to my meeting. When I get back, we’ll make chicken salad and talk.”
Cecelia was already planning dinner.
“I’ll put everything away,” Edwina called out, glad to be home.
Cecelia was already in her room changing into a fresh set of clothes. Edwina let the packages fall onto the sofa and began to methodically take out the items, fold each sack, and place each purchase on the coffee table along with its receipt.
“You are always so neat, Ed. It drives me crazy. Throw the bags out.” She waved a hand. “And the receipts.”
“What will you do if you have to return something?” Edwina was shocked. The prices on several items were worth more than a month’s rent at her apartment.
“Everyone knows me,” Cecelia puffed. “I have only to voice my request and the item can be returned.”
Edwina truly did not know what to say. Did Cecelia own half of Chicago too? Then she smiled, glad she would be headed back home on the morrow. Back to her simple life, her simple job. Heaven knows, with her brand new Birkenstocks, she’d come up an entire rung on the ladder, at least in Cecelia’s eyes.
“Be back soon. Don’t answer the door. I don’t like intrusions of my personal space unless they’re scheduled. Besides, you won’t know how to handle a problem with the tenants.” She waved a hand, talked over her shoulder, slipped on her own Birkenstocks which matched perfectly with her embroidered navy pant suit, and fished for her keys all at the same time.
“Don’t worry. No one will know I’m here.” Edwina waved her off and locked the door behind her sister.
“Ah. Quiet. Peace. Not much noise way up here on what, the twelfth floor?” She kicked off her new shoes carefully and padded across the beige carpet that must have been two inches thick and lifted the sheer mauve curtains back to check out the view.
“Oh my... beautiful.” Lake Michigan was off a good distance, but she could still see the shimmering blue expanse from the window.
She let the curtain slowly fall back into place and straightened the panel so it hung perfectly straight. Yawning, she decided to allow herself one treat and lay her head on the crème chenille pillow, which was an exact match of the sofa.
Sometime later Edwina was wakened by the ringing of a phone. It seemed distant, and just as she gathered enough strength to get up, it quieted. Then as she was about to mosey back to dreamland, it rang again. Jumping up, she had forgotten the Gillespies might be trying to reach her sister. She ran crazily, tripping on the China blue rug near her sister’s bed.
“Hello?” she said as professionally as she could muster after such a cozy nap.
“Miss Giatana?” came the Scottish brogue.
“No, it’s Edwina.”
“Ah, the elusive Miss Edwina,” came the quick retort.
“The very one.” She laughed, happy to hear the familiar voice.
“I am to understand your sister has tried to reach us.”
“Yes. And I am so sorry to have called at such an hour last evening. I’m afraid I forgot about the time difference, Mr. Gillespie.”
“I’ll have ye know, there are worse things in the world to worry ye pretty head aboot,” he replied.
Edwina could hear the smile in his singsong voice.
“My sister is not here at the moment. But it is my understanding that you know about the show you and your wife are to appear on?”
“We are happy to accommodate Miss Giatana, yer sister. We never thought to be on the tele. It is quite the honor.”
“I’m so glad you feel that way, but there is a matter of dates,” Edwina hesitated, not quite sure how Cecelia would frame the question. “Well... it seems the producer has moved the taping of the show up to August 20.”
“Ah, that will not do, lass. We will not arrive in yer country until the first day of September.”
“I see.” Now what?
“Then it is a great problem?”
“I’m afraid it is, sir. I mean, I don’t know much about these things, but the shows... well, they’re hard to get on... and I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do to change the date, you see.”
“A problem indeed,” he agreed. “We would love to accommodate yer kin, lass, but ye see we have already purchased our plane tickets and cannot change them without great cost to us, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. That is a problem.” Edwina frowned. She would not ask anyone to add extra cost when it had been their intention to save money in the first place.
“Well, all is not lost to ye. I shall check and see if there is a way. Ye say me and me wife need to be there by the 20th day o’August?”
“Yes, Mr. Gillespie. That is the correct date. And how is Mrs. Gillespie?”
“She is fine as a bird’s feather,” he said proudly. “She asks aboot ye.”
“Please tell her I am well. I must let you off the line. It is expensive . . .”
“Ye speak the truth. I shall talk to me lovely wife and call again. Soon,” he assured her.
“Thank you so much, and please forgive us for the inconvenience. I do hope you can come.”
“Aye well, all things work out as they should,” he said calmly. “Be off with ye.”
And he was gone. Edwina smiled at his curt good bye.
Wandering to the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and took out the chicken. Cecelia must have known last evening what she planned to fix. The least she could do was have the meat cooked and ready to make the chicken salad.
The kitchen, she found, was loaded with traps. She’d opened what she thought was the door to a trash container, but it was the dishwasher, hidden behind a façade. She pushed a button hoping to turn on the light and music came drifting through the air from some secret place. Another switch that might also have been a light opened a drawer with every imaginable kitchen tool. The deep drawer closed when she touched the button again.
Cupboard doors that should have held pots or pans opened to garbage compactors, another to a display of wine. Such contraptions. How did Cecelia remember where every- thing was?
Even the faucet was different. When she reached for it, it came off in her hand, sending a fine mist spray directly into her face, down her T-shirt, and on the half circle decorative window above the sink. Edwina wiped the window clean and dabbed the water out of her T-shirt.
Finally, she found the secret compartment where pans and lids were kept. The drawer could have contained the entire dishwasher, it was that deep and that wide. And finding the dinnerware, a simple fork and a mixing spoon, had been the adventure of the afternoon.
She’d spent nearly twenty minutes hunting down the tools to cook two chicken breasts. Exhausted, she made for the living room. Time for a book before Cecelia came back and started bossing her around again.
Ten pages into her book, Creating Romantic Characters, she heard the key in the door and her sister entered.
They were halfway finished with their chicken salad sandwiches when she remembered the call and told her sister all the details.
“So will they be here?”
“They’re going to try.”
Cecelia set her sandwich down. “They can’t try, they have to be here.” Her voice ranked one level below a shriek.
“They are going to check and call back. Don’t worry, everything will work out.”
“Easy for you to say. My entire career is at stake, not to mention I’ll lose the biggest marketing opportunity I’ll ever hope to have. It might even open the door to do a few commercials, if I’m noticed, of course.”
Edwina smiled. “Oh, you’ll be noticed.” Then she changed the topic. “Haven’t you enough to do?”
“I can do more. Besides, mother travelled, worked as an actress, raised me, and handled my difficult father all at the same time.”
“Point taken.” Edwina admitted.
The phone rang and Cecelia ran. Actually ran. It looked funny to see her proper sister run through the house. “I should have had a phone put in the kitchen.” Her voice evaporated as she disappeared into her dark bedroom.
Not long after, Cecelia was back with a smile. “They’re coming at exactly the right time,” she said triumphantly.
“Good! How did they work it out?”
“Some good deeder, or whatever they call them, offered to pay for their tickets to fly them over early. All I know is that they have the deal worked out. I am guaranteed. Besides, they said it would give them more time to visit with their son.”
“That’s good Samaritan.” Edwina smiled at her sister’s blunder, then clapped. “Wonderful. I’m glad for you, and I’m glad for them. They are really very nice.”
“Now that that’s done, I’m going to do some brain- storming. Want to come along?”
“I’ll do the dishes and join you in a few minutes.”
“Don’t worry. Set them in the sink. Spencer will be by tomorrow. We need not do the work I’m paying him for.”
Edwina shrugged and rinsed out each dish anyway and set them neatly in the triple sink. She could have done her laundry in those sinks.
“Did I mention I’ve booked us an evening play?”
“What?”
“Don’t try to squiggle out. I got the free tickets this afternoon, compliments of a very happy customer.”
“I haven’t a thing to wear.” Edwina thought that was funny. More true than funny, but funny nevertheless.
“I told you to buy something today, but you refused,” Cecelia said with a huff.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to a play.” Cecelia checked her watch. That meant trouble.
“We have an hour and a half to dress you properly. Let’s go.”
“What? No. I’m tired from shopping this morning.”
“You had a nap.” Cecelia had her hands planted on her slender hips.
“How’d you know?” She looked around. “The pillow. Look, the hollow from your head is still there.”
“Gosh, Cece, do you miss anything?”
Cecelia didn’t answer. She was picking up her purse.
Edwina knew it would be useless, absolutely useless to argue. She did feel pretty good after the nap... and it was a play. She loved plays. “So what’re we seeing?”
“The Evening Gown. It’s a Victorian drama complete with romance, music, song, and dance. Interested?”
“Of course.” Edwina picked up her new purse, compliments of her sister, and slung the long handle over her shoulder.