The Silence Of The Library

FOUR

Teresa and I exchanged startled glances. Neither of us had expected such unpleasant family dynamics.

“I beg your pardon.” Mrs. Cartwright stuck out her chin as she gazed in Marcella Marter’s direction. Her voice grew slightly deeper, perhaps from irritation, as she continued, “You forbid it? No, I don’t think so.”

I would have sworn I felt the temperature drop in the room when Mrs. Cartwright responded. Diesel, in obvious distress at the sudden tension, pulled away from Mrs. Cartwright. He sprang from the sofa and landed mere inches from my feet. He took refuge under my chair, and I leaned sideways to rub his back.

“Mother, I don’t think you realize how exhausted you’ll be if you try to do something like that. You’re not used to going out in public anymore.” Marcella, arms crossed over her chest, regarded her parent intently. She didn’t appear to be backing down, despite her mother’s displeasure.

“I’m well aware of all that, you silly woman.” Mrs. Cartwright’s tone grew fiercer as she continued. “I will not tolerate your attempts to dictate the terms of my life. I have the Lord only knows how much longer on this earth, and I want some little bit of pleasure out of it before I go.”

By now I figured Teresa was as uncomfortable and ready to get the heck out of this room as Diesel and I were, but there was little we could do.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a stone-faced baboon, or are you going to offer our guests a cool drink?” Mrs. Cartwright faced Teresa and me without waiting to see whether her daughter would comply with her command. “Marcella goes overboard trying to look after me. I’m old, but I’m not completely decrepit yet. I have more stamina than she thinks.”

“We’re delighted to know that you’re in such good health.” I decided I’d better speak in an effort to defuse the situation. “It’s only natural that Mrs. Marter wants to take care of you.”

“We’ll make every effort to see that the events we’re planning don’t tax your strength too much,” Teresa said. “And if at any time you don’t feel up to participating, you just let us know. Everyone will understand.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Mrs. Cartwright accepted a tall glass from her daughter. Mrs. Marter’s expression remained mulish, but I supposed she had decided that protesting further in front of guests would not be seemly. “Marcella makes the best sweet tea. Y’all drink up. I’m sure you’re parched by now.”

That was the first kind thing I’d heard Mrs. Cartwright say about her daughter. I surely hoped they got along better in private than they did with company around.

Teresa and I accepted glasses, and I took a cautious sip. Mrs. Cartwright hadn’t exaggerated. The tea was absolutely delicious, sweet, but not cloyingly so, and brewed to perfection. I drank half of my glass quickly, happy to feel the cold liquid sliding down.

“I brought water for your cat.” Mrs. Marter plunked a bowl on the floor by my chair and poured water from a small pitcher into it. Diesel peeped out from under my chair and looked first at Mrs. Marter, then at me. “Go ahead, boy, if you want some,” I told him. He sniffed at the bowl before he dipped his head and began to lap at the liquid.

“Thank you. It was kind of you to think of him.” I held up my glass. “And your mother is right. This tea is wonderful.”

“It sure is.” Teresa smiled. “Hits the spot beautifully.”

Mrs. Marter flushed, apparently embarrassed by the praise. “Thank you. There’s more if you want.”

Teresa and I both asked for refills, and Mrs. Cartwright regarded us benignly—or so I thought, since it was hard to read her expression thanks to her dark glasses. When you can’t see a person’s eyes, you can never truly tell what’s going on in her head. At least she smiled at us.

Teresa set her glass on the floor beside her chair and then reached into her purse to extract a few pages. She examined them before she stood to hand one to Mrs. Cartwright. “This is a tentative schedule I drew up. Please look over it at your leisure, and let me know later if everything is okay. We can adjust it however you like.”

Mrs. Cartwright accepted the paper and appeared to examine it. “At first glance this looks just fine to me, but I’ll go over it with Marcella and Eugene and then let you know.”

“Eugene is my son. He is such a comfort to me, and to Mother, of course.” The quiet pride in Marcella Marter’s voice revealed a more pleasant side to her personality than we had witnessed thus far.

Teresa must have decided it was time to bring the visit to a close. She thanked Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Marter for their hospitality. “We really appreciate y’all letting us barge in on you today. It has been such a pleasure meeting you both.”

“It certainly has.” As I stood, Mrs. Marter stepped closer to take my empty glass, and I flashed a grateful smile at her. “Mrs. Cartwright, I’ve loved your books ever since I first discovered them, and I know everyone is going to be thrilled to see you at the library.”

Mrs. Cartwright cackled with laughter. “It’s going to shake a few people up when they realize I’m still alive and kicking. I’ve been living such a quiet life here, out on the edge of nowhere, most people think I died years ago.” She laughed again. “Ought to be pretty interesting when I show up at the library and see who’s there.”

The elderly writer’s tone gave me pause. Was I reading more into it than was really there, or was there something slightly ominous in those words?

I decided I was imagining things. I had been involved in too many strange goings-on during the past year, and now I was making trouble out of thin air.

Diesel emerged from beneath my chair and approached the sofa. He chirped at Mrs. Cartwright, and she scratched his head. “I sure do hope you’ll have this handsome boy at the library when I’m there. He’s the sweetest thing. You’d better watch out, or I might steal him from you.”

“He loves coming to the library with me.” I observed the old lady’s obvious pleasure as she bonded with Diesel. “He will remember you, and I know he’ll pester you for more attention.”

Mrs. Cartwright petted the cat, then smiled and held out her hands to me. I grasped them for a moment. She squeezed lightly, then I let go. Her hands were cool, despite the heated room, and I noted that, although wrinkled and spotted with age, her fingers were long and slender. I remembered how cruelly my maternal grandmother’s hands had been twisted by rheumatoid arthritis, and I was pleased to see that Mrs. Cartwright hadn’t suffered that indignity.

Mrs. Marter waited in the doorway to the hall, and Teresa and I moved in her direction. I called to Diesel, and he pulled away from Mrs. Cartwright. He seemed rather taken with her, despite the earlier tension between her and her daughter. He followed us to the front door without any further urging on my part.

When Mrs. Marter opened the door to usher us onto the porch, I noted that clouds still scudded across the sky. The rain had stopped, though thunder rumbled far away. The air, refreshed by the storm, felt cool to the skin.

Teresa and I bade Mrs. Marter good-bye, and I carried Diesel to the car to keep his paws from being soaked. Neither Teresa nor I spoke until I headed the car down the drive away from the house.

“That was nothing like I expected.” Teresa’s laugh sounded strained.

“No kidding.” I turned the wipers off now that the windshield was clear. From the backseat, Diesel added his opinion with a few warbles and a meow. “I always find situations like that unsettling. You don’t know whether you should simply excuse yourself and leave, or sit there and pretend that you haven’t heard anything rude or embarrassing.”

“I suppose they have lived together for a long time.” Teresa spoke with the tact that made her such an outstanding library director. “Not to mention that the weather could have affected them. I know violent storms always put me on edge.”

“Perhaps that was it.” I rather doubted the weather had anything to do with it, but we might as well leave it at that. I had to hope that, when Mrs. Cartwright appeared in public, she and her daughter would refrain from bickering. Otherwise the audience would be mighty uncomfortable.

“At least Mrs. Cartwright seemed pleased with our plans.” Teresa sighed. “I’m going to cross every available appendage, just in case. I have the weirdest feeling about this after having met mother and daughter.”

I wanted to reassure Teresa that all would be well, but I was every bit as uneasy as she was. “What’s the next step?”

“As soon as Mrs. Cartwright confirms that the schedule I gave her is okay, then I want to move forward with the publicity. I thought I might go ahead and add a teaser to the library website today, though. I don’t think that will be a problem. We might as well start to generate some interest around town.” Teresa pulled a small notebook and pen from her purse and started to make notes.

That sounded reasonable to me. Fans of Mrs. Cartwright would be thrilled to know she would make a public appearance or two. A brief news item on the website surely wouldn’t cause any problems.