Chapter 30
Her breath still coming in short gasps, Edwina calmed her heart. “May I get you anything?”
“No. We would be about a short nap, if ye don’t mind,” Mr. Gillespie said.
“Oh yes, make yourselves at home. If you need anything, please let me know.”
She was alone.
Tossing her body into the first chair, she felt like she had that day at the airport—tired and ready to faint. Spencer walked in.
“You all right?”
“Not exactly. Look at me. I’m out of my element.” She wanted to shout. “Why do I always find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time... and wearing the wrong thing?” Her fingertips nipped at her jeans. “Jeans of all things, and my worst pair.” She wanted to cry.
“Why do you worry so much? Life is too short. Enjoy it, Winnie.”
“Winnie?”
“Does that offend you?” He took up the coffee cups, that crooked smile plastered across his handsome face.
“No... it’s just that no one has ever called me that before. Cecelia calls me Ed, and I hate it, actually.” She helped him carry the cups.
Spencer stopped and turned. “Have you told her?”
“No. Why should I? It’s her pet name for me.” Edwina shrugged.
“So you don’t really mind, then?”
“Well, I do, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Ah, I see how it is.” He winked and headed toward the kitchen, cups clinking in the saucers.
How was it? Edwina wondered. What did he mean by that? That she was a wimp because she couldn’t tell her sister she hated the pet name she called her? Oh now, there I go, reading way too much into a simple comment.
In a minute, Spencer was back. “I have to go to work. You’re on your own until Cecelia comes back.”
“What? You have to leave?”
“I have those infernal tuition bills, remember?” Edwina heard the slam of the door. She was in charge of the guests. Scooping a deep breath into her lungs, Edwina headed for her room to change her clothes. She wasn’t about to let Cecelia catch her in jeans with guests in the house.
Twenty minutes later, she appeared in a pair of tan dress pants and one of her new Goodwill purchases, a V- necked white blouse with light brown flowers. And her Birkenstocks—for about one minute. They would be nearby when Cecelia came.
The library was where she wanted to be at the moment. She needed a comfort book. Down came two or three volumes from Cecelia’s limited resources; her library was still being assembled. The History of Modern Scotland was a start. Guilt assailed her. She should be reading about her Irish heritage.
She sat in a straight-backed chair—very uncomfortable for reading... she would have to inform Cecelia of that—and held the book on her lap.
The doorbell sounded again after a mere hour. She’d just gotten into the depths of the book. Cecelia wouldn’t ring. Who could it be? Maybe the Scot had returned.
Smoothing her hair now set free of its ponytail, she grabbed the knob and pulled.
“I forgot my key, again,” Cecelia whined. “Spencer called, said my guests have arrived. Are they comfortable? Did you get them coffee? Have they eaten?”
“Whoa,” Edwina raised her hands. “They’re all taken care of. Spencer was here and made a late lunch, even dessert, and they are resting in the Crème and Rose room—or what- ever you call it,” she said proudly, glad to see her sister.
“Good, then all’s well? They arrived early.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Did they say why?”
“No, actually they didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Ed. You and Spencer must have been horrified, right in the middle of cleaning . . .”
“To say the least.” She decided not to tell Cecelia that she dined in her jeans.
“Well, thank you. It’s very important. To my entire career, for that matter.” Cecelia was already going into production mode. “I’m going to change into something nice and comfortable. I’ll take it from here.”
“Would you mind, then, if I took a walk? I could use some fresh air.”
“Not at all. The sun has come out again and it’s really beautiful outside.”
Have you got dinner plans?”
“Of course. Reservations at the Brown House. Eight o’clock. Spencer was able to get us in this evening.”
“I’ll get out of your hair then. Need me to do anything while you’re gone?”
“Well,” Cecelia unbuttoned her navy blazer, “you could drop off something at the cleaners for me. I want my new suit to be perfect for the show.”
“All right. No problem. Just let me know where.”
“Great. I’ll get everything together.” Cecelia was off at a run.
Edwina took the opportunity to dash to her room and change once again. She’d never spent so much time changing clothes in a single day. She decided on a pair of black jeans, a light blue sweater, and Birkenstocks. Ah... comfort clothes. She sighed.
“All right, here’s the suit. Please don’t let anything happen to this outfit, Ed. It’s expensive, even for my tastes.”
Edwina’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? You’d admit that?”
“You know I hate wasting money. But this is not a waste of money. It’s an investment in my future success as a female business owner, not to mention my new show. After all, I’m going to be seen by millions of viewers. This is my one chance to look the part.”
“You’re right.” Edwina had to agree and made it a point not to ask the price. She’d probably figure exactly how many months of rent she could have paid in exchange for the extravagant suit she now held in her hand.
“I’m off then.” Edwina headed out the door with instructions in hand.
“Beware of thieves. Go straight to Gwin’s first. They’re the best cleaners in town. They know me. It’s only a few blocks away, and don’t set the bag down, whatever you do, Ed.”
“I won’t.” Edwina wanted to stick her tongue out. How hard could it be to deliver a suit to the cleaners?
She had taken a few steps when she heard another ques- tion. “Have you got your key?”
“Yes, but it didn’t work, Cecelia.” She stopped, glad for the reminder.
“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. I had the locks changed again. Let me get you the new key.”
Edwina waited. With the new key tucked safely in her secret purse compartment, she was on her way. She stepped out into a glorious early evening. Raindrops glistened and shot rays in all sorts of directions. If she squeezed her eyes just so, rainbows appeared in the myriad puddles.
She pulled the torn slip of paper from her pocket to read the directions to Gwin’s when a gust of Chicago wind burst around the corner and sent the paper flying faster than she could run. It was gone out of sight.
Now what? Ask directions. Simple. She’d just call Cecelia’s cell. Reaching into her pocket, she realized she had not grabbed her phone.
She looked up and saw a phone booth. She’d call from there. She brought the suit inside the booth with her and carefully shared the small space with the precious cargo.
“I’ve lost the address,” she complained. “The wind.”
“You still have my outfit, don’t you?”
“Of course, it’s right here with me. I just need the address again.” Cecelia repeated it slowly, and with one more admonition to be careful, let her go.
“Jeesh, you’d think the Taj Mahal was in here.” Carefully, Edwina lifted the Marshall Field’s bag and clamped her fingers around the handles. She would deliver the outfit to its destination.
Twenty minutes later, she had done just that. With the garment safely in the hands of Gwin’s employees, she set out for a short walk. An hour later she hurried her step and rode the elevator up, put the key in the lock, and stepped inside saying, “Cecelia, your dress will be ready by . . .”
The Scot and Cecelia were talking animatedly and hadn’t noticed she’d com
e through the door. Evidently they had a lot to say to each other. Edwina watched. They were both beautiful people. Just right for each other. The Scot was a businessman in his own right and her sister, well... they made a handsome pair. A little chunk of her heart slipped through a hole in her stomach.
Shrugging, she placed the ticket for the cleaners on the table under a clear vase filled with fresh white roses, the deed safely done. She slipped off her shoes and instead of leaving them at the door, carried them with her and tiptoed down the carpeted hallway unnoticed.