South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [41]
Madeline turned the key in the ignition, but the car didn’t start. It was just—dead. She didn’t believe it at first. But after twenty minutes of fiddling, she faced the inevitable. The Buick was staying here, and she was walking home, and no telling how long it would take to fix or what it would cost.
Gladys sat beside Arbutus on Butte’s bedroom floor, reading a story out loud. It was one of Butte’s sillier romances, but what did she care, as long as it passed the time and kept their minds occupied. She glanced at her watch as she turned a page. Where was Madeline? Even if she’d had to work a little late she should have been back by now.
Arbutus had been doing so well lately, they’d gotten lax about her always having help in and out of bed, and sure enough, while Gladys was in the kitchen doing dishes, Arbutus had woken Up from a nap and gotten Up on her own. Gladys had heard a thump and a yelp and had gone running, her hands dripping dish suds.
Butte had slid to the floor slowly, bolstered by the bed, and at first they thought they could get her Up and wouldn’t even have to tell anybody. But after fifteen minutes, it became clear that Arbutus wasn’t going anywhere without someone stronger to help. Gladys had tucked a blanket around her, propped a pillow behind her back, and sat down beside her. They’d been there for nearly an hour now. The fit of giggles they’d had when they realized their predicament was long over. The last of the fun had seeped out entirely when Arbutus admitted she had to pee desperately.
At last, the screen door banged. Gladys scrambled Up to hurry Madeline along. It wasn’t Madeline, though. It was Randi, wondering if she could drop Greyson off for a bit. Gladys led her to Arbutus’s room and together they got Arbutus Up on her feet.
That was how Madeline found them when she got home—Randi holding Arbutus, angling her back toward the bed, laughing and teasing, telling Arbutus she had to stop living so wild. Greyson was standing by, patting the mattress solicitously, and Gladys was hovering, looking tense and gray. “Don’t worry, Gladys,” Randi said as she eased Arbutus onto the mattress. “I’m strong, I won’t drop her. And she’s strong too, she’s got a good grip on me. Right, Butte? The two of Us, we’re survivors, aren’t we?”
Madeline watched in confusion for a moment, feeling something suspiciously like jealousy, and then she hurried forward to help.
10
Madeline wore Gladys’s nerves out, asking Arbutus if she was all right. Finally, after Butte ate a good dinner and watched her favorite television program, Madeline seemed to believe her. She was still wound Up, though. She kept saying she should have been there, then this wouldn’t have happened.
“Quit fretting,” Gladys told her after Arbutus was back in bed for the night. “It might’ve happened anytime, and she’s perfectly fine, not even a bruise. You can’t be here every living minute. Now, are you going to help me with these packages?”
Madeline started writing address labels, but she kept glancing at Gladys. Finally she cleared her throat and spit out what was on her mind. “I have to ask you something. Why didn’t the Bensons cut off your credit? When they did everyone else?”
Gladys’s first reaction was to clam Up, refuse to discuss it. But that was suddenly too much effort. She said huh in a mirthless way. “They want something from Us.”
“What?”
“The hotel.”
Madeline nodded and Gladys wondered at her lack of surprise. “But what will they do with it?” she asked, very intent.
“They’ll tear it down, they’ve already said so. They want to expand the store and put in a parking lot.”
“That’s a terrible idea. You can’t let them.”
Gladys was touched by Madeline’s dismay, but startled too. What on earth had gotten into her? Probably she was still worked Up over Butte’s tumble. But Butte’s tumble was right at the heart of the matter: