South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [73]
“And I can’t think why you’re being so stubborn,” Gladys said. “We decided all this already.”
“I don’t want to rush into it, is all.” Arbutus looked very Unhappy. “Maybe there’s another way. Maybe somebody else would want it. Maybe somebody would live in it and run it again, appreciate it for what it is. I don’t think we’ve really tried, when it comes right down to it.”
“No one else wants it,” Gladys said. “The overhead, Butte. And the repairs. No one will take on the repairs.”
“I know you said that, but you might be wrong. I don’t think we’ve given the old place a chance. Is that really fair? What would Mother and Dad think?”
“Mother and Dad are dead. And we’re the next to go, and Nathan here doesn’t want it, he’s made that clear—”
“No, I don’t want it. So sue me. I live in Chicago, my life is there. Excuse me. Excuse me for living at all.”
“I wish I could,” Gladys said. Madeline stared at her.
“I’m sorry I lived and Frank didn’t,” he said in a weary voice. “We’ve been over that a thousand times. I know you’ll never forgive me for it and it’s just something I have to live with. But I still don’t want the hotel.”
“No, you just want the money! Made a bunch of bad investments, I’ll bet, and you’d hustle both of Us into our graves if you could, to get the little bit we have so you can throw that away too! I may not be able to stop it, but by God I’ll say it the way it is.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Aunt Gladys. Yes, I could Use the money. It’s true! You’ve guessed it. And what is so wrong with that? I could Use the money and it might save me a lot of trouble in the long run, but that’s not what I’m after. I hate to see you both struggling like this when it is so absolutely Unnecessary. That old building isn’t doing anything for any of Us, it’s a liability. Mother hobbling around the way she’s been is just idiotic, she’s bound to break a hip next time, and then what? Besides which, if she didn’t own it she’d qualify for Medicaid.”
“I don’t want charity! And I’m fine. The doctor says I can go home soon.”
“This time.”
“This is the only time there is,” she said simply.
Nathan closed his eyes. “I give Up. I’m no match for either one of you, I never have been. I’ll just stay out of it. I’m heading over to the motel now, Mother. I’ll stop and see you tomorrow before I go back down.”
“But, Nathan, you just got here—”
“I’m glad you’re doing so well. I’ll try to come again in the next few weeks. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I’ve got to get back for a meeting. If you really are determined to sell your house, I’ll see about getting it listed.”
“No,” Arbutus said slowly. “No, I’ll take care of that. It’s too much headache for you to bother with. Such a small sale, so far from home.”
“Whatever you think. I’m going now.”
“Good riddance,” Gladys spat.
Nathan gave a worn-out wave and left the room.
Madeline spent half that night gazing out the dormer windows of the Hotel Leppinen. The lake looked silvery black in the darkness. The roll of waves seemed eternal. An era of her life had ended since she left Chicago; another had begun and gotten complicated already. In the quiet dark of this attic room at the edge of the earth, Madeline was ready to admit a strange thing to herself.
She wanted this hotel. Even after everything—all that had gone wrong, everything Gladys had said about the expense and impracticality of it—she wanted it. Even if it was the worst idea she could ever have, she wanted it, if for no other reason than its beauty. But it was more than that. The hotel had a spirit and that spirit called her. It was wrong to let the Bensons tear it down. It was right that it should be open, part of the town again. If she bought it, she’d be a part of the town, too.
Despite everything, that was already happening. Mary, Albert, Emil, Greyson, Arbutus, even distant, angry Gladys—they’d become her people. They all needed each other. Or they