Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [58]
"She's a goddam good friend."
"If that's what she did, I want you to thank her for me, and tell her I would have been only too glad. It was better that she was brought to the hospital, but if she had been put in Mrs. Biederhof's care, I wouldn't have had any objection at all. And I know she'd have been properly taken care of, well taken care of."
"She's as broken up as if it was her own child."
"I want you to tell her."
"And will she be glad to hear it."
Bert got wood, and made a fire, and lit it. The next Mildred knew, it was daylight, and one arm was asleep, and her head was on Bert's shoulder. He was staring into the embers of the fire. "Bert! I must have been asleep."
"You slept three or four hours."
"Did you sleep?"
"I'm all right."
They went in with Ray for a few minutes, and then Bert went out to look at the flowers. The spray was still whirling, and he reported they were "as fresh as when they were cut." She got a dustcloth and began moving about the house, cleaning, dusting, putting things in order. Presently she got breakfast, and they ate it in the kitchen. Then he took his departure, to dress.
Around ten, Mrs. Gessler came over, with the black dress, and took the pies, for delivery. Then the Pierces arrived, with Bert, in a dark suit, and Veda, in white. Then Letty arrived, in a Sunday dress of garnet silk. Before her clean apron could be issued, Mildred saw the Engels drive up with her mother, and sent her out to let them in. When Mildred heard them in the den, she sent Veda to say she would be there in a minute. Then she tried on the dress, noted with relief that it was a fair fit. Quickly she got into the rest of her costume. Carrying the black gloves, she went to the den.
Her mother, a small, worried-looking woman, got up and kissed her, as did her sister Blanche. Blanche was several years older than Mildred, and had a house-wifey look, with some touch about her of the ineffectuality that seemed to be the main characteristic of the mother. Neither of them had the least trace of the resolute squint that was the most noticeable thing about Mildred's face, nor did they share her voluptuous figure. Harry Engel, the unfortunate possessor of the anchor inventory, got up and shook hands, awkwardly and self-consciously. He was a big, raw-boned man, with a heavy coat of sunburn and a hint of the sea in his large blue eyes. Then Mildred saw William, a boy of twelve, in what was evidently his first long-pants suit. She shook hands with him, then remembered she should kiss him, which she did to his acute embarrassment. He sat down, and resumed his unwinking stare at Veda. To Veda, the Engeis were the scum of the earth, and Wiffiam was even scummier than his parents, if that was possible. Under his stare she became haughtily indifferent, crossing one 'bored leg over the other, and fingering the tiny cross which hung from a gold chain around her neck. Mildred sat down, and Mr. Pierce resumed his account of the catastrophe, giving a fair version this time, with full faith and credence to Mildred's visit to the Hildegardes, at Lake Arrowhead. Mildred closed her eyes and hoped he would make it long and complete, so she wouldn't have to talk herself. Bert tiptoed over and took the receiver off the hook, so there would be no jangling phone bell.
But when Letty, now aproned, came in to ask if anybody wanted coffee, the Engels stiffened, and Mildred knew something had gone wrong. As soon as the girl had gone, it developed that when she had let them in, they had all shaken hands, taking her for "a friend." Mildred tried to shrug it off, but Blanche was quite bitter about it, obviously feeling that Letty had compromised her social position in front of the Pierces. Mildred began getting annoyed, but it was Veda who put an end to the discussion. With an airy wave of her hand, she said: "Well personally, I don't see why you should object to shaking hands with Letty. She's really a very nice girl."
While all of Veda's delicately shaded accents were soaking in, the sound of