Chapter One, Episode 32 - Risky Business - Situationally Theirs

June 07, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Risky Business shows Digby at home, private even at home. It also shows the responsibilities at the Beaufort Estate. 

I cleaned up punctuation, typos, word placement and some sentence structure. The only addition was a page break.

Risky Business

Digby had been able to work from his home, a modest bungalow in a little cul-de-sac just outside of the Beaufort Estate grounds. If he had not brought the needed files with him when he removed himself from the Beaufort mansion, he would not have been able to do very much at all. He did not inform Mrs. Beaufort on that day. She was still asleep. Digby was not willing to waken her and deal with a potential temper tantrum, begging them, tearfully, to stay. He really was quite satisfied to be able to work from home for this hopefully short time. He kept the bills paid and the payroll up to date. There were fewer bills in this time of Covid19, but bills still had to be paid. The household credit card had not been in use since the middle of March when Mrs. Beaufort and her sister purchased groceries for him. She had offered to pay for them, but he insisted. ‘I do appreciate your offer, Mrs. Beaufort however, I do like to keep my personal accounts up to date.’ Emelina had known Digby for a long time, well aware of such a strict code. She knew that he expected her offer and that he would decline. It was a little polite expectation between employer and employee. 

A healthy monthly deposit from the Estate funds was very fortunate when so many others were struggling just to make ends meet in this dreadful time. These were funds that Mr. Beaufort, Jr. had left to Mrs. Beaufort in his will. Besides keeping the bills paid, he was able to maintain the payroll for the employees. Any seasonal workers or casual employees had not been called in so those parts of the payroll were not necessary. Accruing overtime hours by employees also has not happened so was not an expense. 

Each morning Digby got up early and got ready for work as he always had. Keeping his hair tidy was becoming a problem. However, he managed to trim the shagginess away. He did think that, if he had been a considerably younger man, he would have shaved his head bald just to keep it tidy. Even the thought of what he might look like brought a smile to his eyes with a hint of an upturn at the corners of his mouth. Digby dressed casually each morning. His favourite plaid shirt with the button down collar, his pressed khaki slacks and his leather house sandals were comfortable home alternatives to his butler uniform and highly polished Brogues. 

After dressing, the next order of business in Digby’s morning was a simple breakfast. One slice of buttered toast, a boiled egg ~ soft but not runny ~, a half an orange and two cups of tea. Coffee was reserved for later in the day. While eating his breakfast, he listened to the news and any virus updates on CBC. Following breakfast, he washed, dried and put away his dishes.  After a short stroll in his backyard to check on the state of his bird feeders and get a bit of fresh air, he went into his home office to work. This order was followed meticulously. Digby had always believed that routine was an excellent way to manage one’s way through good times and bad. It had been a little difficult to keep that up when the days started to become long, however his years of discipline had stood him in good stead.

While in the garden, checking on his roses he thought of Martha. He was going to be calling her on video chat in the early evening to discuss the graduated return to work they were planning. She should be doing her inspection of the Mansion soon and would have a report for him when he spoke with her. Aloud he said: "I wonder if she dances". Looking sharply up to see if anyone was around, he turned abruptly and disappeared into the house.

~~~~~

Digby turned his desk lamp on and settled in his desk chair. Any files remaining at the Estate were locked securely in the safe in his office bedroom. He had a second much smaller safe at home. It was there that he kept the Beaufort files. Pushing the keys to release the combination lock, he removed them, placing them on his desk. The payroll would be sent out today. Because no casual or temporary staff had been utilized since this distancing and isolating shut down had occurred, those being paid would be the regular full-time and part-time staff only. Satisfied that this would ease the budget, he began the work of sending out the payroll. When he started with Beaufort’s many years prior, cheques were made out and Mr. Michael signed them. Later on, it became legal to have a stamped signature. Then it was direct deposit to individual bank accounts, which did simplify things. Writing out cheques and finding Mr. Michael was very time consuming. Digby did have it very organized, but still, setting up the direct deposit was much better. Payroll finished, all bills were up to date, Digby put them all back into his little safe. 

He didn’t even have to get out of his chair. He wheeled himself across the two feet to the cupboard that the safe was stored in. Wheels are a wondrous invention. He rolled back again, then forward, then, with his hands firmly on the arms of the chair did a half turn one way and then the other. Digby glanced out the window facing the front yard. There was no one there. He spun all the way around, put his hands flat on his desk and stood up. Behave yourself, man. You grew up a long time ago. Before he left the room, he reached back to give his desk chair a final spin, straightened up to walk down the hall toward the kitchen. Instead of going into the kitchen, he turned left into the front hall. Knowing it was still quite cool out, he put on his brown wool serge jacket, set his Ivy League flat cap on his head and readied himself for a brief walk. Before going out the door, he checked his footwear. His brown socks almost matched his brown sandals. Ordinarily Digby would have changed into outdoor shoes, but he was feeling particularly risky for some reason. He glanced in the hall mirror, adjusted his cap to a slightly rakish angle and, whistling a Bing Crosby tune, stepped out of his front door. 

“Fortune sides with him who dares.”

~ Virgil

Chapter One, Episode 31-The Apiary - Situationally Theirs

June 06, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

The Apiary is a light look into the easing of public health restrictions on the Beaufort Estate.

After yesterday’s major overhaul to Episode 30, thankfully there were few repairs for Episode 31 - The Apiary. Most fixes were to punctuation with some addition of detail.

The Apiary

Martha was inspecting the upstairs. It seemed quite topsy turvy. The dining room was in great need of a good clean and dusting. “I’ll have to contact Brigitte and see how soon she can get here.” She went into Mrs. Beaufort’s room first, wanting to make certain it was all in order, but what she found was compete disorder. No bed. No dressing table. Closet only half full - one or two pieces of clothing still with their tags on them. Most of Mrs. Beaufort’s shoes were still there. Martha opened the curtains and turned the lights on. She inspected every inch of the room. She immediately went to the spare bedrooms. They were like the dining room. Dusty and stagnant. Especially the bedroom at the end of the hall. Just outside that bedroom window was a beautiful old flowering Plum tree. It covered everything in pollen so you couldn’t tell whether the dark wood had been painted white or just needed a good dusting. 

But Martha did love the show of pink blossoms that came each spring. ‘Pink snow’ her grandchildren called it. On a windy day, they would run and try to catch the dainty blossoms, their little hands outstretched. Laughing and playing. Laughing and playing. Martha missed them so but she had been assured this separation wouldn’t last forever. As a matter of fact, her daughter Joanie was planning a short visit on the weekend. But this first one wouldn’t have any hugs or kisses. 

“Martha Haverstock, just stop it or you’re going to make yourself cry. Best get on with your inspection before Miss Emelina gets in from the garden. That’s what I’ll call her! Miss Emelina. Rolls right off my tongue! Now where has she moved herself to.” 

Martha stood in the hallway, one finger to her lips. Shouldn’t be touching my face! So she folded her hands in front of her and looked up to the ceiling for inspiration. The den. “That has to be it. She can’t have moved all that furniture and the clothing by herself. Her sister must have helped her.” Martha bustled down the hall to the other end where Michael had planned his den. When she opened the door, sure enough, there was the missing furniture. Thank heavens that this is a big room! A moderately sized oak writing desk had been moved, from the middle of the room and was repositioned against one wall, with only enough room for the desk chair. Miss Emelina’s bed was against the wall next to the door so she would have a view out of the window, her chair and footstool on the opposite corner by the small fireplace. There wasn’t a lot of room to move around, but Martha was quite pleased with the arrangement of everything in the room. The room had been cleaned, vacuumed and dusted. Very neat and tidy. But where on earth had she put all her clothes. In the one corner of the room was a prized Beaufort family heirloom from a time before built in closets. Also constructed from oak, it was an antique clothes cupboard. In it were most of Miss Emelina’s clothes. Sweaters were folded and on the floor of the cupboard. The drawer at the bottom held her personal things. I’ll just have to ask Miss Emelina what she will be doing with the remainder of her clothes. I just can’t figure it out. We left a woman who barely knew how to get up in the morning or get dressed, and now here’s this other woman who moved her room and works in the garden. Martha shook her head.

She heard the back door close. Over that she could hear laughter and visiting! Previously, when it had been Mrs. Beaufort, that seldom happened and definitely not from the back door. She had always been a Front Door Lady.

“Dez, that’s just insane!”

“What’s insane about it, Emmie? Seems like a good idea to me.”

“It would. It’s your idea.”

“And besides that. They scare me. Buzzing around when I’m outside with my lunch. Landing on my plate and crawling into my food.”

“You’re talking about wasps. .. maybe a few bees…but, come on Emmie they’re only bees. You’ve got all those fruit trees and bees need a place to get pollen without flying hundreds of miles. There’s probably hundreds of bees in there anyway. You’re not getting any of their honey. It’s in someone else apiary or in a hollow tree for Pooh Bear. Remember those stories?”

“Winnie the Pooh. I loved Eeyore! That was one of my favourite stories. But, Dez, I’ve never been a bee keeper before.”

“No you haven’t. But in the last few weeks, you’ve been doing a lot of things differently. Getting bees on your property to develop things a bit more would be just one more thing.”

It had occurred to Emelina that she was almost pushing Dez away. Not on purpose, but she’d gotten so excited and so interested that she almost forgot about the ‘we’ they both kept talking about. Would this be something that would bring that back into focus? She really loved the idea of having the big white square ‘bee hotels’ in her own orchard but just couldn’t see how she could do it justice. 

“Dez, Would you want to take on that project? I really, really don’t like any flying, buzzing thing. I really love your idea, but really don’t think I could take on anything else right now. I’m trying to organize my thoughts around how to really own this estate and at the same time do something for the community. ~ Oh, hello Martha. You’ve met my sister, Dez, haven’t you? It was over one of those video chat calls a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, Miss Emelina, I do remember that. It’s lovely to meet you face to face, Miss Dez. You have been such a big help to your sister. So sorry I can’t shake your hand. We must keep our distance. I’ve just inspected the house, Miss Emelina and see you’ve moved into the den. You have things arranged beautifully and it looks quite cosy in there. The rest of the upstairs needs a good cleaning. I know that Digby’s room, my room - really the whole downstairs - will need a thorough clean as well. I’ll be calling Brigitte to come in as soon as possible to get things back in shape up there. I think that she and I can manage to take care of all of that. Do you need me to do anything else while I’m here?”

“No, I think everything is just fine. As always you have everything in hand, Martha. Just let me know when Brigitte is coming. I’m learning how to do text messaging so would you please send that via text message? I’m on a real learning curve and Dez has been a marvellous teacher.”

Martha gathered her coat and purse. She smiled to herself as she went out the door. Miss Emelina really is a new person. I think we’ll all be on a big learning curve while we fit ourselves back into our lives.

“A careful beekeeper will not take more (honey) 

than the colony can afford to miss.”

~ Paul Peacock, author of Keeping Bees ~

A Complete Practical Guide

Chapter One, Episode 30 - Blossoms - Situationally Theirs

June 05, 2020

Review, Edit and Update:

There was work to do on this part of the story. Surprisingly it was mostly wording and sentence structure that needed fixing. I did interfere with some of Samuel’s dialogue. When I first wrote this, I had not fully developed his character or his manner of speaking. Episode 51, titled A Man of Few Words, Samuel’s manner of speaking was developed. When I read his sentences in this Episode 30, it was much too wordy. Like Samuel caring for the garden, I weeded out some of the unnecessary words for him.

Regarding the House Wren nest - it has obviously been abandoned. Just a couple of days ago, a small bird was taking it apart, flinging fluff and fine twigs away. Possibly one of the house wrens?

April 23, 2020

Update:

Before I start tonight’s 30th Episode of Situationally Theirs, I have a couple of updates.

The first is the House Wrens nest that I was watching a couple of weeks ago. The time from one day to the next seems to melt into each other so that the only way I could be certain would be to go back through my posts. Anyway, it seems that the House Wren’s next, while busy with activity for quite some time, is silent now. My guess if the little chicks have grown and flown. They are probably still in the neighbourhood, but I wouldn’t be able to tell which little birds they were. 

The second update is about this little story about Desperanza and Emelina. What started out as two separate posts coming together to create quite a bond between the two women; a bond they thought had been too stretched to be meaningful any longer. Although they had each other’s phone numbers they did not know where each other were, or even if the phone numbers had changed. Over the last 29 episodes there have been a lot of changes for them both, but especially Emelina. Disclaimer:  I write the words down, but whoever is the central figure in each story, tells me their story. I do the word crafting from scenes I ‘see’ and the dialogue I ‘hear’ in my mind. The setting is mostly on the Beaufort Estate, Emelina’s home. Desperanza's family name is Eliot and lives in the nearby small city of Hartley. The time period is the one you and I are living in now - a time of pandemic, social distancing and washing our hands. Other people in this story, and there are several, are ordinary people trying to find out what this different life has to offer and what they have to offer to their community. 

Blossoms

Martha was the first to return to the Beaufort Estate. She knew that Mrs. Beaufort was probably home; the vehicle that Giles, the chauffeur used for errands was parked by the back door. However, Martha knew that Giles had not yet returned to the Estate. The only other person to use the SUV was Mrs. Beaufort. She only used it to check on her field and maybe her garden, but that was very infrequent. Martha climbed the four steps to the back porch. Finding her keys at home had been a bit of a chore. They had migrated to the bottom of her purse not used the entire time she was in isolation. After fourteen days, gathering everything including her keys seemed a monumental task. But she had her keys in hand, and was about to slide the housekey in the lock when the door opened. For a tiny second, she didn’t recognize the woman with the big smile on her face. Mrs. Beaufort? What on earth is she wearing? She looks like she’s about to go work in the fields! Everything she has on is stylish but…. blue jeans and a red t-shirt, leather gloves and work boots. Those boots haven’t seen the light of day for well over a year. She bought them for an Urban Farming fundraiser. Wore them once and told Brigitte to put them out of her sight. It only took seconds for Martha to take in this familiar but very different woman was who her employer.

“Martha! How good to see you!”

Both women stepped back immediately. This new habit of social distancing had been learned very quickly, despite the immediate urge to shake hands. Hugging was not something that anyone had done even prior to Covid19, especially with Mrs. Beaufort.

Martha had straightened up and composed herself. “Hello, madam. You look…..so healthy. I haven’t seen you with roses in your cheeks for a very long time.”

“Oh Martha, don’t call me ‘madam’ anymore. My name is Emelina but I’d love it if you called me Emmie.”

Martha almost gasped, hoping her quick intake of breath went unnoticed. “Well madam - I mean Emelina - I don’t know if I can do that.  I may slip up from time to time. I believe calling you Emelina would suit the best, however maybe Mrs. Beaufort would even be better. It will take time for me to get used to this change. “

“As long as you don’t call me ‘madam’ anymore. I’m just on my way out to the garden. I’m meeting Samuel Forrester, the gardener and yardman, to see what sort of planting we can get started. I also need to talk with him about setting aside or opening another piece of land for another garden. New plots for some city gardening that may fit with the restrictions but…..and I’m going on while you stand waiting for me to let you inside.”

Emelina did indeed step aside for Martha, who was still feeling rather speechless. To see this dramatic change in madam….Emelina….. had floored her. She would have to get a cup of tea and call Cook to tell her all about it. 

“I’ll be out in the garden if you need me. I have my cell phone with me. Oh, and I’m expecting my sister, Dez, sometime this afternoon. If she arrives, just send her out to the garden.” With that Emelina tripped down the steps and walked briskly toward the garden. Some people have container gardens, some people have a small garden patch in their back yard, but Emelina’s garden was almost more like a field. In previous years, a large part of it was designated for flowers to keep the Mansion in fresh flowers. Emelina wanted to change a lot of things about her home and how she ran it. I really haven’t had much of a hand in running any of this. I just rely on Digby and Martha to know what I need and want. Emelina stopped at the head of the garden to see what Dez had tried to show her several days ago - this small corner of the world that she had been neglecting. She pulled her gloves off and squatted down, picking up a handful of the soil Samuel had already turned. It was black and smelled good. She had no other way to describe it. Just fresh and good.

“Emmie. I’ve brought you some coffee and a donut.” Dez had seen Emelina on her way to the garden as she pulled up. “ I got the cream filled kind that we like. At least we can get take out, even if we can’t go sit in a restaurant. What are you doing?”

Emelina pivoted and stood up, letting the dirt filter through her fingers. She brushed any dirt from her jeans. “I’m just about to talk to Samuel - he’s my gardener and yard man - about what’s going in the garden this year and getting more land ready for another garden. I’ve had some more ideas about what we can do with it. But I need your opinion. I’m actually afraid I’m getting ahead of myself again. Mmmmmmm. This donut is really good and fresh and the coffee is excellent. Where did you get it?”

“I stopped at that place that you went to the night you picked me up from jail. Sorry to remind you that your sister is a jailbird.” With an icing sugar moustache, Dez continued “You’re not getting ahead of yourself if you’re just asking questions or tossing ideas around. But you do look like you’ve got something stirring around in your head. ‘Fess up. What is it?”

“It’s about the garden. Food. Food is something many people don't have easy access to. The Food Banks are really stretched. It’s easy to give them money, but I’ve never felt like I’m really ‘giving’. I think I just want to actually participate. Right now the garden hasn’t produced anything. Cook is always saying that we have so much. Much more than enough to feed the household. Many times staff just take the extra home. What if we had something like a market garden that would supply some fresh food to the Food Bank?”

“I like that idea! But here’s the part that really get’s me. Rules for sharing food. We have to find out what restrictions and laws may be in place before we put in a whole lot of time and expense. I plan to stay the night, so we can spend some time researching the public files for any other information we need. “

As they were talking, Samuel approached them. He was a grizzled, wiry man, who looked like he came from the very land that he loved. “Mz. Beaufort. What can I help you with?” 

“Samuel, this is my sister Dez. She’ll be working with me on a project we are considering.” Emmie didn’t want to go into great detail just yet as she hadn’t put it forward to the rest to the staff. “We need to know about your plans for this year’s garden. I may also want a second garden area, but we can discuss that later. “

Samuel went on to say that he planted the usual - potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, onions and if Mz Beaufort wanted something different he could get that done. “And Mz. Beaufort, we need a green house. Buyin’ all them new starts costs and takes time off the land. A proper greenhouse would give us some vegetables all year round.” 

“Of course. Don’t we have one? I was sure there was one here. I do need to check with Digby about the finances but I’ll get back to you in a couple of days. Is that ok?”

“There was an old greenhouse, but that one had to be taken down. I did store some tools in it, but it was really only good for mice. Mice and me don’t get along. Sure it’s ok? You’re the boss. I gotta get back to work. These potatoes won’t jump into the ground by themselves.” Samuel tipped his old straw hat at the two women and walked away whistling.

~~~~

As the afternoon drew late, Dez and Emmie sat carefully on rickety, dusty garden chairs. No words passed between them, both of them lost in thought. Dez looked at the garden and saw such potential, not just for the bounty it would bring, but the life it would bring back to the estate and to Emmie. Emmie looked at the garden and saw the growth of new plants. Plants that would bear fruit for a season, but would be replenished the next year. Gifts that could be shared with so many others. Not just food on their own table, but food for the tables of others. How many, Emmie was unable to imagine. Her world seemed broader and more fulfilling today than ever in her memory. Dez and Emmie’s long estrangement from each other over, their lives had changed and would continue to change.

“One day spent with someone you love can change everything.”

~ Mitch Albom, For One More Day

Chapter One, Episode 29 - Brigitte - Situationally Theirs

June 04, 2020

June 04, 2020
Review, Edit and Update

Brigitte brings a different perspective to this story, 

as she is the youngest and most recent member of the Beaufort estate staff. 

Thankfully there were few repairs needed: typos, punctuation, wording. Thoughts are really self-dialogue, so hesitantly I added some detail to Brigitte's thoughts. 

Brigitte

The jogging path, covered in cedar shavings, was soft underfoot. Brigitte loved being out in the fresh air, the scent of moss and trees all around her. When she was jogging she felt the surge of her muscles, the impact of her feet on the earth, and her breath filling her lungs. Brigitte, tall and slender with strawberry blond hair and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, was only twenty nine. She had been at the Mansion for four years, a job that had only started as something to do while she was figuring out the rest of her life. Higher education had held no interest for her. She had picked fruit, planted trees, been a nanny, waited tables in restaurants…..what ever would pay the bills. No job lasting more than a year. Now here she was, four years later, almost a seasoned professional. She liked the people at the Beaufort mansion. They were all rather intimidating for the first while, but soon Brigitte learned that Martha, the Beaufort Housekeeper, and Cook, who absolutely owned the kitchen, were softness itself on the inside. Digby was the unknown. An 'enigma'. That's what her dad, the English major, would have said. Her work hours were fairly stable. She was seldom called in on her time off. The pay was pretty good and she had health benefits. 

Like the rest of Mrs. Beaufort’s staff, she had left the Mansion to self isolate when the potential danger of the viral pandemic was announced on the news. Digby confirmed the truth of the reports and had called a brief meeting in the kitchen. They decided how they would deal with the situation and prepared to leave. None of them had wanted to abandon Mrs. Beaufort, but really felt that if they left everything in order, she would be able to manage. Brigitte was especially worried about her employer. She had been hired to fill two positions. Mrs. Beaufort’s lady’s maid and the cleaner for the upstairs. As ‘lady’s maid’, she looked after Mrs. Beaufort’s hair, her manicures, pedicures and all of her clothing. At the end of her employment interview, she was told that Mrs. Beaufort was in deep grief over the death of her husband the year prior and would Brigitte be able to compassionately, but firmly, care for her. Martha felt that in another year, Mrs. Beaufort would be much improved.  Brigitte came to the end of her run and did a slow walk to her car. She popped the trunk and pulled out a fresh towel from her gym bag. Wiping her face and shoulders of perspiration, she leaned back against the car. It’s been four years since I started work at the Mansion and Mrs. B. doesn’t seem much better. In fact, I think I’m doing more for her than I did when I first started. It’s maybe been too easy for her to fall into the role of Lady of the Manor. She’s never really had to do much more than go to the meetings she claims to enjoy, along with the occasional charity function. 

Brigitte closed the trunk of her silver Escort with a click. She felt her cell phone buzz. Strapped to her upper arm, she carried her cell phone on her jogging runs to measure her heart beat and distance. She also had ear buds and listened to audio books or music while she was jogging. But when her cell phone buzzed it meant she had an email. Digby? I wonder what he wants. I hope there’s nothing wrong. Brigitte opened her car door, sat on the side of the seat and opened the email. ‘Back to work soon - maybe next week…….jobs secure……staff meeting…Mrs. Beaufort attending!…..bring ideas for community aid. Mrs. Beaufort must be better. Wow. I wonder what happened. 

Brigitte frowned and then leaned into the sun warmed seat of her car with a groan. Yes, she was glad that she still had her job. She had really gotten interested in it and done some research to see if there was any training for a lady’s maid. Excited, she found out that some lady’s maids travel with their employers and may even become a personal secretary for their employers. But that’s not what she was groaning about. While Martha had isolated in her little house next to her daughter, and Cook had isolated in her own little cottage on the estate grounds and Digby…..well Brigitte thought he had a house close by ~ Brigitte had come out to her parent’s cabin on the little lake close to Hartley. The weather had been gorgeous. A little rain one or two nights, but she felt like she had been on holiday. Getting back into real clothes did not please her at all. 

As self assured and confident as Brigitte was when she was on her own, she was equally as shy and reserved with Martha and Cook. Most of her previous work experiences had been with people her own age and in very busy environments. Except for the tree planting, of course, when it was just her and the little shovel against the land, with sunshine, rain and the birds. Being a nanny, she was on her own with children. Brigitte knew that job was definitely not for her. Ideas for helping the community? Hmmm……Those empty bedrooms need to be filled, maybe, but with who and how long. And the den is kind of wasted as a bedroom. I don’t know about that room, unless Mrs. B………No. I don’t know what to do with that room. More people and Covid19 restrictions? I clean the upstairs, so it would increase my work load to keep it all clean. And I suspect there’d be special requirements for that. I’ve avoided a lot of the TV news, so I don’t know much more than ‘wash your hands’ and ‘keep your distance’. Anyone staying would need to have laundry - would we do it? I suppose that would depend on who it was. And then there’s meals… would they be in the dining room or would everyone come to the kitchen where the rest of us eat? Brigitte had a thought. When I was on any of my other jobs, especially the outside ones, there were certain things I had to be sure of… toilet facilities, food and food storage... and of course sleeping arrangements. The Mansion has all of those things, including an excellent cook but would we have to do anything differently? 

While Brigitte was trying to wrap her head around it all, she had gotten into the car, closed the door and started up the engine. She sat still for a moment, lost in thought. At least I won’t miss jogging with the track on the estate property. I wonder…..how could we fit the track into any plans? Brigitte expertly backed up her little car and turned it around. Grilled burgers on her horizon and her stomach grumbling at her, Brigitte headed back to the cabin.

“One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship 

with other woman beings as we take our place among them.”

~ Virginia Woolf

Chapter One, Episode 28 - Full of Thoughts - Situationally Theirs

June 03, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Full of Thoughts from April 21st, shows the character of Martha,  alone with her worries in Covid19 the required isolation of her home. She decides to act and contact Digby, the butler about her job security, then left with many questions and a few ideas - along with a cup of tea and a cookie.

Little needed to be altered in this episode, merely some punctuation, spacing and unnecessary wording.

Full of Thoughts 

Hartley seemed empty. A ghost town where once there had been foot traffic, bicycle traffic and just plain traffic. Cars, trucks, service vehicles and buses. But inside homes, families were living differently. Moms and dads working from home while helping their kids to keep up with their schooling. Moms and dads unemployed while helping their kids to keep up with their homework, while at the same time doing home fix-ups that had been waiting for ‘someday’.

Martha watched the news, always paying attention for any changes to the government’s plans, and of course to Public Health recommendations and projections. As far as she knew, her job was safe. She’d had no indication from Mrs. Beaufort that their jobs were in jeopardy, but it did weigh on her mind. Especially when she heard about the many unemployed and how they were struggling. Did she have enough retirement money? Would she have to give up this little cottage on the Beaufort Estate? If she did where would she go? To live with her daughter, Joanie? So many questions that had no answers. Martha decided to start asking questions. After all, that’s the only way a body can find any answers. She started with an email to Digby. Had he heard anything from Mrs.Beaufort? 

Digby,

I do hope everything is well with you and you are about ready to get back to work. We seem to have gone past our needed isolation time. In that case, we should be able to go back to work as long as we keep the distancing, wash our hands and not come to work if we don’t feel well. Have you heard anything from Mrs. Beaufort? 

Take care of yourself,

Martha

Martha,

Yes, I am well. I do hope you are well also. You are correct ~ I am definitely ready to get back to work. We have ‘served our time’. As a matter of fact, I heard from Mrs. Beaufort only moments ago. She actually called me to ask when we were to have our next staff meeting. I told her that it should have been last week, so we would have one as soon as we returned to work. She seemed very pleased, and asked if she could attend. 

I am going to send out an email to all the regular staff that we’ll meet early next week. Mrs. Beaufort made another very strange request. She would like our ideas on what we could do for the community. She went on to say that she would like us all to work together. 

I also asked her about our job security, as I know that must be playing on everyone’s mind. Without the least bit of hesitation, she said that all of our jobs are secure.

So, Martha, get your thinking cap on and dig up those ideas you’ve had for how we can help the community.

Be well,

Yours sincerely,

Digby

Martha had been studying on Digby’s email ever since. She had gotten one answer. Her job was not in jeopardy. But now she had another question. What could we do for the community? As a Housekeeper, on a Housekeeper’s salary, she couldn’t do much. But together? Martha knew every inch of the Beaufort home. It was a home with so much emptiness inside those walls. Could they help with housing? No. That didn’t seem right. It could only a be temporary solution. There were at least two bedrooms, but only two bedrooms doesn't help a whole lot of the community. When she went over the budget in her head, the food budget often was quite large. Would something like meals for the homeless help? Of course Cook would love that idea. A temporary laundry service? At that point, Martha’s brain was hurting from all this thinking. A cup of tea seemed a good idea, so Martha put the kettle on. Got out the china teacup and saucer from her grandmother’s china. While the kettle boiled, she went looking for a cookie or biscuit. Alas, there were none to be found, But wait! What’s that? Tucked in the back of her cupboard was her secret stash cookie jar. There was one cookie left in there. It was only a week old and had chocolate chips in it. With her cup of tea and that cookie, she may be able to brainstorm again.

Some of the things that we have to think about……Martha’s quick mind started up again with her first sip of hot tea. First of all, and of course, Covid19 and any precautions from Dr. Bonnie Henry, our chief Public Health officer. So, do we want outsiders coming into the house and how do we do that safely? Will we all have to wear masks? Probably not. I hope not. Is there anything about the house itself that needs fixing? Nothing important and we can get that work done ~ with Mrs. Beaufort’s approval of course. Martha did seem to think in details, which was why she was good at her job. She kept the house running efficiently and with little waste.

Martha checked her kitchen clock. 9:30p. Time for her to get into that nightgown she told Elizabeth about. She had a good book on her night stand that was waiting for her. She tidied her kitchen and her sitting room before going to her room. I’ll just finish these last two rows before I go to bed. In the now tidy sitting room, Martha picked up a knitted dishcloth she had been working on, sat down and the knitting needles began to click faster and faster as Martha wondered how they could help. Mrs, Beaufort held the pursestrings, so ultimately it would be up to her. But she wanted our ideas. If I could have my way, and I held the pursestrings, what would I do? I would use the empty beds in the two bedrooms for somebody that needed them. I would have a kind of soup kitchen on the weekends to help the homeless. I would build a playground on the front lawn with everything a good distance apart so community kids could come and play. I think that’s enough for tonight. Anything else will have to come to me in my sleep.

Martha ate the last bite of cookie and drained the last drop of tea. She rinsed the cup and saucer under the tap and set them upside down on the draining board. Shutting out the kitchen lights, she disappeared down the hallway into her room and shut the door. She did get in bed with the intention of reading her book The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Funny, fanciful and a mystery. But the book fell on her chest. With the lamp still burning, her gentle snore softened the night.

“What is interesting and important happens mostly 

in secret, in places where there is no power.”

Michail Ondaatje,  The Cat’s Table