Above the headboard was a picture of a little girl in a light-pink dress with a blue bow tie.
Had this been that little girl’s room? Where was she?
“Is that the girl who lives here?” I asked.
“Oh, no, no. That’s not anyone. I bought the frame, and it had that picture in it. Actually, that’s why I was attracted to the frame. She is, I’ll admit, the granddaughter I wish I had.”
It’s not her room? Why, I wondered, was there a little girl’s room in her house, then? The furniture looked too new for it to have been her little girl’s room when she was my age. And why was she painting it? Was there someone else she was expecting?
I was going to ask, but she clapped her hands together.
“I just had a wonderful thought.” She paused, thinking and nodding to herself. “We should have another jar, one for wonderful thoughts. We’ll put nickels in that one, because nice thoughts are worth more than triple what sad ones are worth.
“Anyway, this is my thought. If you stayed here for a while, you could help me paint the room blue. You’re probably better at that than I am. I could never color perfectly within the lines. I’m sure you’ll be much neater than I am, too. I’m always in a rush, but a girl who can color like you do must have great patience, and to do anything right, you have to have great patience. Worth a nickel, my idea?”
I looked up at her, puzzled. I didn’t have a nickel. “Daddy’s coming for me,” I said. “We have to catch another train. I can’t stay here and paint a room.”
“Of course, of course. I was just dreaming. When you get to be my age and you’re alone, you spend more of your time dreaming and talking to cats.”
Mr. Pebbles was right behind us.
“Whose room was this?” I asked. Did she have a niece? It was definitely a girl’s room. “Whose is it going to be? Maybe she will want a different color.”
“Oops,” she said, instead of answering. “The pizza!”
She turned, taking my hand, and hurried us back to the kitchen. Mr. Pebbles stayed right behind us.
“You set the table,” she said. “The dishes are in the first cupboard on the right, and silverware is in the drawer beneath it. Napkins are right there on the counter. Glasses are in the second cupboard on the right. We’ll get bowls for ice cream after.”
She went to the stove.
I wasn’t afraid to do it. Often, when Mama stayed in bed longer, I would set the table, but it seemed to make Daddy angrier, so I stopped doing it. Either he would do it, or Mama would finally get up and come down to start breakfast or dinner. To get to the Umbrella Lady’s dishes, I had to step on the small stool she had in the corner of the kitchen.
“Should I get a plate and a glass and silverware for Daddy, too?” I asked.
“Oh, what a good idea. If he showed up now, he’d surely be as hungry as we are. How sweet of you to think of him.”
Why wouldn’t I think of him? I thought.
“Careful,” she said. “We don’t want you breaking a bone and going to the hospital. I’d have to call an ambulance. I don’t have a car anymore. I walk to the grocery and the drugstore. Why do I want a car?” she asked, as if I had complained. “No, we’d have to take you in a screaming ambulance to an emergency room with sick and injured people, blood everywhere, splattered on floors and walls.”
The very thought of that made my hands tremble and my insides tighten as if something was inside me squeezing, but I was as careful as could be. When I had it all on the table, I stood looking toward the front door and listening.
“You go look for your daddy while I get the pizza. Maybe he doesn’t know this is the house and he’s walking all over the street,” she said. “It’s not easy to read the numbers when it gets dark.”
I went to the front door, opened it, and stepped out on the porch. She was right about the house number. It was faded so badly and now in some shadows. Anyone would have to stand right in front of it to read it. The dimly lit street was still very quiet. There was no one in sight, and no cars were being driven in either direction. The air was suddenly much colder, too. The wind had picked up, and some dust danced over the macadam right in front of me and landed on the Umbrella Lady’s lawn. I looked up. Most of the stars were under a dark purple blanket now. That gave me a cold shiver. For a moment, I felt like crying, but I sucked back my tears. I knew that once they had started, I would have a hard time stopping them.
“It’s ready!” I heard her cry.
I stood on the porch for a few more moments. I was tempted to shout for Daddy. Where was he? Should I just run up the road screaming for him?
“Do you want lemonade or Coke?” she asked.
I entered the house and closed the door. The aroma of the pizza was stronger now.
“Lemonade,” I said, and walked into the kitchen.
She paused and looked at me. “Daddy still not there?” she asked, smiling.
I shook my head. Why was she smiling?
“I must tell you. All the stores are closed by now. We’re going to have to talk about this,” she said, and put the pizza at the center of the table.
She stood up with her hands on her hips and pulled her shoulders back. I hadn’t known her very long, but already I realized that when she did that, her voice would deepen, and she would say something very serious or important.
“Talk about what?” I asked.
“We’re going to have to talk about what to do. But let’s eat first. We can think better if we’re not starving,” she said. “Oh,” she added, “you need to wash your hands first.” She nodded to my right. “The powder room is right there. Go on. Hurry up, before it gets cold, not that cold pizza isn’t good, too. I’ve eaten plenty of that. You can’t eat if you don’t wash your hands, Saffron.”
I hesitated, not because I wasn’t hungry. I kept thinking it was wrong to start without Daddy.
“I’m very hungry,” she said. Then, with a sharp tone, she added, “And I’m going to start eating any minute. It won’t be the first time I’ve eaten alone.”
I trembled at the anger in her voice. Then she smiled.
“Of course, Mr. Pebbles was always here. He’s waiting for you, too.”
I looked at the cat, who was looking at me as if he had understood every word she said.
I felt like I had fallen down a well, like Alice who fell into Wonderland.
Only I was still falling.
CHAPTER THREE
When I came back, she was at the table, waiting.
I sat across from her. Mr. Pebbles moved to sit near me.
“This is very nice,” the Umbrella Lady said. “How serendipitous that I decided earlier to walk to the train station. I don’t usually. It holds both good and bad memories for me.”
She stared at me a moment and then nodded to herself.
“You don’t know what that means, ‘serendipitous’?”
I shook my head. She looked at Mr. Pebbles.
“Dying words, Mr. Pebbles. Her generation will have to use sign language eventually. They will be that illiterate. Books will end up in museums.”
I was only eight, and I had yet to go to an actual school, and I never had heard that word, I wanted to say, but didn’t because I didn’t want her to get angrier than she already looked to be. She took a deep breath.