Part 29 (2/2)

His deep, sad eyes said he would suffer through whatever she had to say. ”And that is?”

”I will let you become homeless only if the speed limit in that country place is at least fifteen miles per hour.”

She didn't know the tune he was humming as he turned and walked to a room, but it sounded happy.

”I can't go to that house with you,” Bess said as soon as she closed the door of the apartment.

Caroline almost fell onto the couch. ”What do you mean? Of course you can. I can't go alone.”

Bess appeared to be in as much pain as Armand had before she said they would rent the house. He needed her? She needed Bess. ”Can't we be friends, Bess?”

”You're not thinking straight, Caroline.” She dropped to the edge of the opposite couch. ”I need a job so I can support myself. Goodness knows, I'm not crossing that ocean again. And if I can't be your maid, I'll have to find employment.” She sat at attention. ”That's the truth of it.”

n.o.body was making any sense tonight. ”Bess, you buy the groceries. Cook the meals.”

Bess scoffed, ”I have to eat. Now, we can be friends if that's what you want. But I can't let you pay me for that. I have to find real employment, not just take your money.”

This was quite awkward. ”Bess. I want to learn to take care of myself. Not have to depend on a maid, or anyone else.”

”Begging your pardon, Caroline Chadwick.” She became huffy. ”We all depend on each other. But I don't take charity if I can help it.”

Caroline had to admit she was not ready for independence. She could maybe cook coffee after having watched what Armand did. Bess remained quiet while Caroline thought. Then an idea dawned.

”Miss Hotchkins,” she said in a formal tone, and Bess raised her brows.

”You've been in my employ for a number of years, but I no longer need a maid.”

Bess folded her hands on her lap and lowered her gaze to them.

”However, I'm thinking of moving into a house where I need to employ a cook and housekeeper.”

Shoulders often spoke volumes. ”And someone who can weed flower beds.” Bess now had her lower lip almost inside her mouth. ”Do you know anyone who might be interested in that position?”

”Yes, Mrs. Chadwick, ma'am, I do.” That woman could change moods like one turning a radio dial from a terrible report to sweet music. She had apparently acquired another dose of confidence, and looked Caroline straight in the eyes. ”And when you decide you no longer want her in your employ and you can take care of yourself, just tell her so.”

Caroline suspected that might take a while, perhaps the rest of her life. Bess said the hour was late and bid her good night. When Bess disappeared from the room, Caroline realized she'd never asked her why she hadn't married. Was it because she had to make a living?

She was rather surprised at her next thought. Armand Bettencourt was young, early thirties at the most. He was quite appealing in many ways. And why did a dark sadness sometimes creep into his eyes?

More than that, she needed to know why he said he was needy. How could she, who couldn't even take care of herself, be the kind of person Armand Bettencourt could depend on when he was the one helping her with her finances and a place to live?

Again she wondered, because she needed to be needed, why would he need . . . her?

52.

Caroline felt content at the country home. Bess had no need to learn secretarial skills now. She stayed home to take care of the house and gardens.

Home. The thought felt nice.

A couple of days a week Caroline and Armand took the rented carriage to the station. She held the reins a few times, and Armand laughed. ”Safer than in the McKay.”

She punched his arm. He was quite muscular. He should be, spending as much time working on that lake house as he did in his office.

”And when do we get the car over here?”

”No, no. You said if the speed limit was fifteen, which it is. I made no car promise.”

”But you smiled like it was the greatest idea ever.” She squinted at him. ”Like you're doing now.”

He laughed. ”Looks can be deceiving.”

She didn't always care for obviously true statements, not when they made her think of herself. She was content, but always present was that threatening dark spot inside.

They took the Beaumont train into Halifax and talked as friends, which they surely were, although the situation seemed rather odd. He was in her employ, and yet she was dependent on him for the rental house. If she were ever going to find out what he needed from her, perhaps being a little personal might be a good start.

The opportunity came the day the first burials took place. William's was one of them. Armand went with her and Bess, as did people from the surrounding area. They dressed in black. She wore a new hat with a veil that s.h.i.+elded her eyes. She felt Armand's eyes on her as if he thought she'd cry. She didn't. Neither did Bess. But that little dark spot acted up, and for a while she felt she was slipping into depression the same way the t.i.tanic had slipped into the ocean.

Armand must think her heartless. She would speak of William. ”We had a good marriage,” she said one morning on the train.

His head turned quickly toward her. ”Good?” She saw the reflection of his face when it turned toward the window. His eyes were sad.

Maybe Armand was wondering what a good marriage was. He hadn't opened up about his personal life, and she wouldn't pry.

One day had been particularly depressing, understandably so due to all the morbid things they were dealing with. Friends and relatives came to the office, having been told they could receive financial help throughout the city, including the Bettencourt offices. There was talk of t.i.tanic items being found in the ocean or swept onto sh.o.r.e, including a deck chair. She wondered who might have sat in it.

As if sensing her distress, Armand suggested they go for a ride. He drove. She was startled when the car stopped. A beagle came loping down the road, his legs bending like a prancing show horse's. But his shrill yelping sounded painful. He stopped beside the car, whining.

Strips of hair were missing from his body and at one place across his head. ”We must help him.”

Armand said, ”I'm sure you must.”

She opened the door. The dog cowered, uncertain of her intentions. ”Come, doggie. I'll help you.”

He whined, stepped back, and yelped. All of a sudden, he jumped into the car.

”Bravo!” He licked her hand and settled on her feet while Armand gave her a wide-eyed look and then started the car.

Bess looked pleased when they brought the dog home in a big canvas bag with his raw feet bandaged. After a few days, Caroline realized how he soothed them just by needing them.

Several days later, Caroline sat on the porch in a rocking chair. As the beagle lazed near her, she saw a figure appear out of the fog from the direction of the lake house.

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