in on Mrs. Goodrich.
Though the old housekeeper had never admitted to her true age, Elizabeth was sure she was well into her eighties. She still lived in the little room next to the kitchen, and did her best to keep up the pretense that she was looking after Miss Elizabeth instead of the other way around—brewing fresh coffee for her each morning, and managing to put together something that passed for lunch, though Elizabeth had grown accustomed to waiting for the old woman to fall into her afternoon nap and then going to the kitchen to fix something to tide herself over until dinner.
Elizabeth was worried about Mrs. Goodrich; it wouldn’t be much longer until the old woman would need full-time care, and Elizabeth didn’t see how she was going to afford it. Unless what the doctors had told her was true, and Sarah really would be allowed to come home. She tapped lightly at Mrs. Goodrich’s door.
“Is that you, Miz Rose?” the andient voice quavered. Elizabeth shook her head a little, in sorrow. More and more lately the old woman had been mistaking Elizabeth for her mother, and Elizabeth supposed that it was a sign of increasing senility.
“It’s me,” she said gently. “Miss Elizabeth.” She opened the door, and the old woman stared at her blankly. Then her mind seemed to clear, and she smiled tentatively.
“Oh, yes,” she said uncertainly, “where’s your mother?”
“She’ll be in later,” Elizabeth promised, knowing that later Mrs. Goodrich would have forgotten that she had asked for Rose. The first time this had happened, Elizabeth had tried to explain to the old woman that Rose was dead, and a look of horror had come over Mrs. Goodrich’s face.
“Oh, dear,” she had clucked. “What’ll become of poor Mister Jack now?” Elizabeth had stared at her for a moment before she realized that the old housekeeper must have forgotten what had happened. These days she simply ignored it. She closed the door.
Elizabeth glanced around the kitchen now, and thought she ought to do the dishes and save Mrs. Goodrich the effort Her arthritic hands could no longer hold on to wet dishes, and she had a hard time seeing what she was doing. But Elizabeth found she didn’t mind having the role of servant thrust upon her. Mrs. Goodrich had served her family well for a long time. The least they could do for her was take care of her in her old age.
And besides, Elizabeth didn’t really have much else to do. Without being aware of it, she was becoming more and more like her mother, sticking close to her home, going into Port Arbello only when there was shopping to do or errands to be run. It did not occur to her that, at the age of twenty-eight, she was beginning to behave like a spinster twice her age. Nor did it occur to her that her lifestyle seemed odd to many people.
Elizabeth Conger was, in actuality, fairly content with her lot in life. She had her home, which she loved, and she had her cat, an ancient Persian she’d named Cecil, after the one that had disappeared. Her father had brought the kitten home to her soon after Sarah had gone to Ocean Crest. The cat was decrepit now, and needed a great deal of care. Elizabeth had considered having Cedi put to sleep, but hadn’t been able to find it in her heart to do it.
She glanced around the kitchen again and wondered where to start Then, just as she had made up her mind to do it, she changed her mind and decided to go for a walk instead.
She looked in on Mrs. Goodrich once more and found the old woman sound asleep. As she was putting on her coat at the front door, she felt Cedi rubbing against her ankle.
“You want to come along too?” she asked the cat “I know you, though. You’ll be perfectly happy walking for about ten feet, then you’ll want to be carried.”
The cat looked up at her and mewed.
“Oh, all right, come on,” Elizabeth said, opening the front door. The cat bounded out into the bright spring sunlight.
Elizabeth, seeing Ray Norton’s car still parked on the Point Road by the field, dedded to go over to the woods and watch the construction. She had avoided the woods for years, until she had had to walk the property with the real-estate agent she had listed it with. Even then she had not felt comfortable about the