The Winds of Change by Gail Kittleson

Author:Gail Kittleson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WordCrafts Press
Published: 2023-10-27T15:14:05+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“I

wish you well, Helene.” Dottie followed Helene to the front door, grasping three handwritten pages of instructions about what needed to be done before she returned from her latest Minneapolis trip.

“I was about to leave town, but came back to make sure you keep a close eye on that girl.” Helene’s voice grated on that girl, and a chilly breeze riffled the papers in Dottie’s hand. “Mind you, don’t go soft on her. She’ll take advantage of you. I’m the one still paying her—so I hold you responsible.”

Dottie reacted without thinking. “But you’re not paying her, remember? It’s your mother’s money, from Bonnie Mae’s inheritance.”

Helene’s nose bunched up. “So, you’ve learned some sass from her? I thought better of you, Dorothy.”

In that moment, Dottie saw a slight physical resemblance between Bonnie Mae and Helene. The slant of their jawlines matched, but the likeness stopped there.

“Besides, it’s none of your business.” The older woman swished out onto the wide front porch, seams crisp black against her pudgy calves. She clicked to the steps and started down, her burgundy felt hat brim swaying in the wind.

A bevy of emotions fought inside Dottie, but what she wanted to yell, she whispered. “I thought better of you, too. And I’ve made it my business, because I care about your niece. On top of that, I don’t like being called Dorothy.”

She closed the door and picked up a feather duster. She couldn’t recall when she felt so let down by someone. Helene would never know how much her behavior disappointed people. But the good side was, she’d be gone for several days.

Rose and purple diamonds from the leaded window spread their cheery hues over the room’s northeast corner. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Dottie didn’t know where that quote originated, but it brought her an odd comfort.

There might be nothing lovely about Helene’s character, but here in her boarding house, beauty still existed. “And I’m going to take a minute to enjoy it.”

On the brushed velvet settee, the reflected color moved over Dottie’s faded green housedress and calico apron. She held out her legs to study its effect on her plain white stockings, and decided she liked that better. Her worn right heel frowned up at her—she really ought to buy a new pair of shoes as much as she was on her feet.

She took her time dusting, picking up objects here and there to notice their shapes. A pottery teapot, a ceramic vase, a platter that reminded her of her grandmother—carnival glass, she thought it was called. Grandma Pitman had a couple of odd pieces on her cupboard shelf. Dottie set the table with care, using the linen napkins, though no special guests would be here.

“Special, my foot,” she sputtered to the dining room’s placid furnishings. The Creamery buyers had found a house, and yesterday, Al explained which one—Helene’s. She’d even let them take over the upstairs as she packed away her things for her move to Minneapolis.

George and the other boarders deserved linen napkins just as much as those wealthy people.

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