The Fullness of Time--A Novel of Watervalley by Jeff High

Author:Jeff High
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jeff High
Published: 2019-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

POLLY

I RANG THE BELL AND waited. In time, Polly opened the front door, awash in a mix of alarm and taut courtesy. She was immaculately dressed but stiffer than an iron post.

“Dr. Bradford?” She anxiously inquired.

"Hi, Polly. I was just out doing rounds this afternoon and thought I would stop by to check on you." Having said this, I smiled broadly. But inwardly I was kicking myself. The wave of euphoria that had washed me to her doorstep had evaporated, and I again remembered how unpleasant her company could be. She stared at me blankly. Painful seconds passed. She seemed to be gathering herself from the shock of my presence. But quickly enough she assumed a gracious but rigid cordiality. As was her norm, she operated behind a wall of impenetrable politeness.

“That’s very kind of you. Please, do come in.”

I passed through a central hallway and entered an oak-paneled parlor with heavy drapes and stiff Victorian furniture. To no surprise, the room was spotlessly clean. Some original artwork covered the walls, and every level surface was filled with framed photographs of Polly and her late husband, Clayton. The marriage had produced no children, so invariably all the images were just the two of them.

As I settled into a large chair, Polly asked if I would like coffee. Normally I would have declined, but I accepted the offer if for no other reason than to avail a moment to regroup my thoughts. She disappeared to the kitchen, and I continued to study the myriad of framed photos that blanketed the room. Apparently, they had been great travelers for many of the pictures were of exotic places ranging from Polynesia to Africa to Egypt. In all the captured images, I would be hard pressed to say that there was anything glamorous or handsome about either of them, even in the younger snapshots. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice that in every photo the two of them seemed idyllically happy.

Minutes later Polly returned bringing coffee with a silver tray and pot. She had regained her equilibrium because she now spoke in her usual patently aristocratic voice, invoking a ponderous pronunciation of each word. "I hope you don't mind me being formal. I don't often have company anymore, and sometimes it's nice to get the silver out of retirement."

I sipped my coffee and made a few of the standard inquiries to Polly about her health. In return, she offered polite but somewhat clipped responses, and the conversation progressed awkwardly, lacking rhythm and flow. To her credit, Polly moved the discussion to a more effortless plain.

“How are your wedding plans coming along?”

I breathed an easy smile. “Wonderfully, I assume. I do my best to keep to the periphery of things. It’s all pretty overwhelming, though. I think the first moon landing was launched with less preparation.”

Curiously, Polly’s eyes softened to a warm regard. “Oh, let the girl have her fun, Dr. Bradford. You’re quite the lucky fellow, you know. Christine Chambers is splendidly beautiful and a darling young woman.

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