Only a Smile
“What were you smiling about James?” Martha pulled her sweater around her. Cool air had followed her in the door, after she walked the Storyteller to her car. “What do you mean? When? I smiled several times this evening.” He wasn’t really certain about what his wife meant, but her question did unnerve him.
“Well, Storyteller and I were talking about - oh, I don’t know - flowers, or grandchildren, or what she was doing with her life besides writing. You were washing up like the good husband that you are, dear. I caught a hint of a smile. You know; that smile when you know something that the rest of us don’t.”
James turned away and picked up the tea tray on the cupboard. “You’re chilled, dear. I’ve made a fresh pot of tea. Clean teacups and I found the cookies you hid on me. Did the Storyteller tell you she’ll be out at the Estate again tomorrow?”
“I’d love a fresh cup of tea, James. And don’t change the subject. That secret smile of yours.” She sat down at the kitchen table with her tea and picked up a cookie. “I really should leave these alone. My tummy is still quite full from supper……now talk to me, James.”
James poured his own tea and, pacing, said “Well, it just feels like something is about to happen. I don’t know what exactly. Miss Emelina has been in and out of the office for weeks now. She asks for files, takes them for a while, brings them back. Seldom says anything, except maybe that she just wants to know about the running of the Estate. I was talking to George Winston one day about some expenditures. When I asked if he knew anything, he just cleared his throat and changed the subject. And I didn’t hear a smile in his voice.” He took a deep breath and sat down, setting his still full cup of tea on the table. Martha looked concerned “James, you’re worried aren’t you? That’s why that smile didn’t last long, isn’t it?”
“I couldn’t say anything to you or to anyone else with nothing but my imaginings. Where would we go and what will we do if Miss Emelina is firing us?” His shoulders slumped, he took a sip of his cold tea. “She’s not going to fire us, dear. Maybe she really is just getting to know all the ins and outs that are second hand to you. I can’t imagine what it might be, but she would talk to us all first. And now that Brigitte’s leaving, she really needs to know more.” Martha gently covered her husband’s hands with her own. “It will be all right. We’ll be all right. Miss Emelina will tell us her plans when she’s ready. After all she’s only been up and around not even two years now.”
“You’re right. You know, maybe I’m just tired and almost ready to retire.” James laughed and drank up his cold tea. Pouring himself some fresh hot tea he said. “What about you, Martha? What would happen if we both retired?”
“What?! I’m not ready to retire. Maybe a cut back in hours - and I’d have to train someone new. That would take some time. And you? What would you do all day? Do we have enough to retire on?” Almost excited by the prospect, Martha fiddled with her napkin and ate another cookie. “Get these things away from me, James.” She pushed the plate away.
He picked up the plate and took it to the cupboard. “We could travel. Not far, as long as this pandemic is still running our lives. There’s a lot of the Island we haven’t seen for a long time. Remember that little place up Island - a little cabin with all the grasses around it. Walking paths that took us into that quaint little town?”
Martha stood behind her husband, rubbed his shoulders, smoothed his never out of place hair. “That’s better. We’ll just go over our finances and see if retirement is an option. We've been taking our jobs for granted, haven’t we?”
They talked and planned into the night.
~~~~~
The Storyteller had seen the little smile. It wasn’t much, but enough to get her spidey-story senses aquiver. She would be at the Estate tomorrow. Maybe she would find out something then.
“If life were predictable it would cease to be life, and be without flavor.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt
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