Thursday's Third Scene - Murder and Mint Tea #MFRWAuthor #Cozy mystery #Small town

     Monday was a day of learning truths.  Other than to give birth to Andrew, I had never been a hospital patient.  I’ll admit I liked being on giving not receiving side of care.  As I waited for the transport team to take me to the OR for the insertion of a pin in my left leg, my thoughts focused on all the dire complications I could remember.  Some were the product of an imagination out of control.  My heart thundered.  My mouth was dry.  Tears filled my eyes.

     “You’ll be fine,”  Beth Logan, neighbor and nurse said.  “We’ll take good care of you.”

     I clung to the assurance in her voice.  “Just think of all the things that can go wrong.”

     Beth patted my hand.  “Just remember how seldom they occur.”  In that moment I realized how important sympathy is for a patient.  Before we could say more, the team arrived and wheeled me away.

     The rest of the day passed in semi-consciousness.  Drowsiness from the anesthesia and the pain medication scrambled my thoughts.  Even Andrew’s scolding about my foolishness barely registered.

     By Wednesday I felt caged and tired of pale green walls, gray tile floors and white sheets.  The television turned low and switched from channel to channel failed to divert me from an aching need to escape confinement.

     Dr. Beemish had promised to discharge me once crutch walking was mastered.  By noon, the physical therapist hadn’t arrived.  I toyed with my lunch and prayed for mint tea and the serenity of my apartment.

     Lars, my friend and bridge partner, called from Santa Fe.   He spends most of the winter months at his home there.  He hoped I would heal quickly and grumbled about my penchant for adventure.

     When I hung up I waved at Pete Duggan.  He held a bouquet of yellow mums.  “More flowers.  Why?”

     “Seemed the thing to do.  You chose a dumb way to turn down my offer of a partnership.”

     I laughed.  “Breaking my leg wasn’t my first choice.”

     He slouched on a chair and told me some stories about the storm.  The tales made me laugh.

     The arrival of Edward Potter, pastor of St. Stephens, ended Pete’s visit.  The small, dapper man’s ringing tenor voice dripped with sympathy and gossip.  While he regaled me with stories I would rather not have heard, Paul and Maria Prescott arrived.  I eyed the thermos in Maria’s hand and sighed in anticipation.  One of my wishes had come true.

     “Mrs. Miller, I was so sorry you have the accident and I am not here to give you the help.  When Paul and I come home last night Mrs. Sarah tell us you have the misfortune.  I have brought the tea.”

     Edward coughed.  I made the introductions without mentioning Paul and Maria’s last name.  Edward’s face showed a hint of disapproval.  He stared at the gold hoop dangling from Paul’s ear.  Edward kissed my cheek.  “Katherine, I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

     Would his prayers be for my healing of about my choice of friends?  I hadn’t told Edward that Paul owns the most successful antique store in town or that Prescott Reproductions is on the way to success.  Maria designs jewelry and has a growing reputation in her field.

     Paul and I had met the year I converted the house.  He’d come to evaluate the antiques I’d decided to sell.  We had become friends.  Several years later on a trip to Spain he’d met Maria.  After their marriage he’d purchased the house next-door.

     Maria opened the thermos.  Some people crave caffeine.  My choice is mint tea.  Like a starving woman I reached for the cup, breathed in the aroma and sipped.  The hint of chamomile made me smile.  “Heavenly.  Thank you.  How was your trip?”

     “We have the beautiful time.  My madre and padre are happy to have us home again.  Paul find many beautiful things for the shop.  My niece, Bianca, want to live with us so she can go to school.  Paul and I think on this.”  She sat in the chare beside the bed.

     Paul leaned against the door frame.  His shoulder length blond hair had been pulled into a club at his nape.  “I hear you nabbed the neighborhood thieves.”

     I grinned.  “With help from the police.”

     “Good show.  Any hope they’ll recover the loot?”

     “Call Pete.  He should know.”

     The Prescott’s house had been the scene of the first robbery.  A gold and emerald ring Maria had designed for a national juried show had been taken.

     Maria shook her head.  “I do not know how you could let the thieving men in your house.  I would scream and run.”

     “I didn’t think.  Just acted.”

     Paul crossed the room.  “Now, why don’t I believe that?  Have you ever acted impulsively?”  He shook his head.  “Bet you dismissed any options before you acted.”

     He stood with his hands on Maria’s shoulders.  She looked up at him and the love in her eyes made me sigh.  Her dark coloring and near perfect features complimented his rugged handsomeness.

     Maria patted my hand.  “I should never have go away.  First the bad man hit you.  Then you fall in the snow.  What if no one find you?”

     “I’d be part of an ice floe on the river.”  Her frown said she didn’t understand and explaining the town’s snow removal system was beyond me.  “I’m fine, child.”

     “When you come home I will care for you.  My house takes just one hand.”

     “We’ll see.”  I looked up in time to catch Paul’s not.  “When do you start remodeling?”

     “Late summer.  Once they spring you and you’re on your feet, stop by the shop and check out your investment.”

     Three years ago when Paul started the reproduction workshop he needed a backer.  I invested some of my savings.  “I trust you.”

     He laughed.  “Could get you in trouble.”

     “Maria would never let you cheat me.”

     “Few people could.”  Andrew stepped into the room.  “Her trusting air is an act.”

     “Is that a nice way to speak to your mother?”

     He stood with his hands clasped behind his back like the presenting doctor for Grand Rounds.  “Paul, Maria, good to see you.”  He acknowledged their greetings with a nod and walked to the bed.  “Can’t stay long or I’ll be late for office hours.  Ruth will drop by this evening.  Are you sure you won’t consider Hudson House for a few weeks?”

     “Never.”  Though the local nursing home was exclusive and expensive I wanted my own apartment and bed.

     Paul clicked his heels and saluted me.  Maria kissed my cheek.  “Not to worry, Dr. Andrew.  When your madre come home I will tend her.”

     Andrew sat on the chair Maria had vacated.  “Mom, I’m serious.  If not Hudson House, let me hire a nurse.”

     “There’s no need.  With Ruth’s, Sarah’s and Maria’s help I’ll manage very well.”

     “You are the most stubborn woman in existence.”  He patted my hand.  “I’ve found a tenant for your apartment.  Then I won’t have to worry about you being in the house alone.  She’s a friend of Ted’s.  Divorced with two children.”  He smiled.  “Rachel’s a lovely woman.  They’ll move in the end of the month.”

     Though I preferred to select my own tenants, I decided to let him win this round.  “Rachel what?”

     “Rodgers.  Ted sent her to me for some therapy sessions.  Her divorce was messy.  She even lost custody of her children.  Ted helped her regain custody.  She needs support.  You’ll be good for her.”

     Something about the way he said her name bothered me.  For the past year I’ve noticed an inner restlessness about him.  He seems discontent and to be searching for illusive answers.  I sighed.

     He pulled a paper from his briefcase.  “Here’s the lease.  Ted drew it up.  Rachel has signed.”

     I found a pen but first read the brief document.  “This is different from the one the realtor provides.”

     “Simpler.  Ted said you and Rachel would be protected.”

     “The terms favor the tenant.”  I scratched out several of the terms.  “Tell Ted to have this retyped and then I’ll sign.”

     “Mom.”  Andrew looked at what I wrote.  “This is hardly fair to Rachel.”

     Something in his voice raised a flood of questions.  Before I had a chance to ask my son what was happening, the physical therapist arrived.  Andrew left.

     For forty-five minutes I embarked on an exhausting attempt to master the extra set of legs.  I returned to bed and slept until the nurse woke me for dinner.

     Shortly after the trays were collected Ruth arrived.  “Mother Miller, you look so much better.”

     “But bored.”

     She smiled.  “Andrea’s in the hall near the elevators.  Let me find a wheel chair and take you to her.”

     “I’ll use the crutches.  Follow with the chair in case I falter.”  I slid to the edge of the bed and positioned the crutches.  I noticed the concern on her face.  “I should be fine.”

     “Of course you will be.  I think you can master anything you try.”

     “Thank you.”

     My daughter-in-law isn’t beautiful but she knows how to dress.  She keeps her dark brown hair cut in a style that’s perfect for her narrow face.  Though she graduated from college with honors and could have had a brilliant career she’s chosen to serve as Andrew’s handmaiden.  Even when his ideas clash with hers, she doesn’t disagree in public.

     “Ready.”  Ruth appeared at the door with a wheelchair.

     Slowly at first and then with greater confidence, I walked toward the cluster of chairs near the elevators.  A drop of perspiration slid down my back.  Another made a path down my nose.  One hundred steps.  Fifty more.  Then ten.  The trip seemed longer than my usual morning walk.

     “Grandma.”  Andrea bounced from a chair and dashed toward me.  Her dark brown hair had recently been cut and curled around her face.  “Crutches, how neat.  When you don’t need them could they be mine?”  Hazel eyes like mine and Andrew’s sparkled with excitement.

     After I eased into the wheelchair Ruth lifted the leg rest to support the case.  “Why would you want them?”

     “To put them in a dance.”

     “Only if you promise I’ll be in the audience.”

     “Sure.”  She kissed my cheek.  “Can I write my name on your cast?”

     “I’d love that.  You’re the first to ask.  Guess my friends think I’m too old for cast decoration.”

     “Not you.  They’re the old ones.  When you come home I’ll stay and be your nurse.  Dad thinks you need one.”

     “What about school?”

     She wrinkled her nose.  “Guess I can’t them.”

     “Tell me what you’ve been doing?”

     Those words released a spate of stories.  To each I responded in the proper manner.  When Andrea ran out of stories Ruth pushed me back to my room.  She held the wheelchair while I transferred to the bed.

     “Are you sure you can manage when you come home?”  she asked.  “You know I’ll be glad to help unless I’m tied up with Andrea’s schedule.”

     “I’ll be fine.”

     “Andrew blames himself for the accident.”

     “If anyone’s to blame it’s his fool mother.  If I’d waited twenty minutes the street would have been scraped on both sides.”  My sigh was part exasperation and part worry.  “He’s too serious.”

     She nodded.  “It’s a phase.”

     Ruth usually read Andrew like an expert but this time she was wrong.

     “He would feel better if he could do something.  He loves you.”

     “I know that.”  Her concern for my son brought a ripple of guilt.  My stubborn pride loosened its grip.  “Why don’t you suggest he hire a woman to come every morning for a few hours?  Not a nurse, mind you.  Just someone to help me dress and do some light cleaning.”  My sense of the ridiculous rose.  “Have him get me a portable toilet.”

     Ruth giggled.  In that instant she looked no older than her daughter.  “That’s wonderful.  I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him about the commode.”

     My laughter joined hers.  “I tried to make the suggestion to him but couldn’t.  He has a view of me I don’t deserve.  He’d be embarrassed to think his mother has normal human functions.”

     She patted my hand.  “He does tend to put you on a pedestal.  I’d better leave and get Andrea home.”

            After she left I turned on the television.  The program, one of the crime shows I always watch, barely registered.  My thoughts centered on my son and some nameless concern for him.