TFRoot - The Elixer Page 8

  "Not tonight, Lucy. Thank you, but I have a previous engagement."

  She smiled. “Good for you! I'm glad that you're working things out.” She then turned to him and added teasingly, in a little girl's lilting singsong “with Margaret!"

  Ed frowned, unable to suppress a blush, but said nothing.” You have a very nice garden, Lucy,” said Carole. “Is this where you grow your herbs?"

  "Thank you, yes. As a matter of fact, Ed and I just finished picking one that I use in one of my teas."

  By now they had reached the front door. Lucinda unlocked the door and held it open to reveal the inside of her house. Tom was favorably impressed. If “Hobson's Choice” was the quintessential New England tea shop, then Lucinda's house was perhaps the perfect New England house: comfortably spacious but not overly so, at once homey and elegant, the signature style of so many old, established, well-off Yankee families. The decor was subdued, quite stylish without being flashy, the very epitome of eclectic: sturdy pieces of wood furniture, including many antiques from different eras and in varying styles, but without exception of the absolute finest quality, and so somehow all fitting together like so many pieces of an intricate jigsaw puzzle.

  "Come on in and sit down, make yourselves comfortable,” she said, gesturing absently at perhaps the newest items in the place, two adjacent extremely inviting tan couches that dominated the living room. “Except for you, Ed, you're a mess; I don't want you getting dirt on all my furniture.” She winked at Tom and Carole and then smiled warmly at Ed to let him know that she was only joking, before disappearing into the kitchen which was adjacent to the living room.

  "What can I get you to drink?” she called back. “I have sodas, iced tea, cranberry juice, beer..."

  "Beer,” said Ed quickly, brushing his hand quickly over the seat of his khaki pants and along the back of his legs, as if to knock off any offending grime, and then sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the couches. Tom and Carole followed suit and settled back into the other couch.

  "Tom? Carole?"

  "Iced tea would be fine, Lucy,” Carole called out in response. She turned to Tom. “When in Rome, as they say, right?” she said, smiling.

  "Beer, Tom?” asked Lucinda.

  "Iced tea will be fine for me,” said Tom.

  Lucinda emerged from the kitchen with a tray containing two tall glasses of iced tea, an empty, chilled beer glass, an opened bottle of a domestic lager, a little crystal bowl filled with macadamia nuts, and a wooden board with smoked brie and toast rounds and placed it on the antique coffee table in front of the couch.

  "I didn't need the glass, Lucy, but thank you,” said Ed appreciatively, picking up the bottle of beer and pouring it into the frosted glass. “Cheers,” he said, lifting the glass in Tom and Carole's direction and then taking a swig.

  "Good health,” said Tom, lifting up his iced tea.

  "Amen to that,” said Carole. The three of them drank.

  "What kind of tea is this?” asked Carole.

  "Just plain orange pekoe, nothing exotic,” Lucinda answered. “Decaffeinated, by the way; I understand that you avoid caffeine."

  "Yes, I do,” answered Carole. She took another sip. “This is very good, thank you."

  "Well,” said Lucinda, “I don't mean to be an inattentive hostess, but you'll have to excuse me while I freshen up. I'll be just a few minutes.” She turned and went up the stairway that was between the kitchen and the living room.

  "Take your time,” said Tom. “We'll be just fine.” He turned his attention to Ed. “So, Ed, I guess you were helping Lucy with some gardening,” he said, matter-of-factly, trying to make pleasant conversation, still wanting to give no indication that he had witnessed Lucinda's outburst.

  "Yeah, I help her out with her gardening, and with a lot of other things around the house. I try to keep busy.” He took another swig of beer. “Did you see that garage out there? Well, I built that myself,” he said proudly.

  "Really?” Tom exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “That must have been a big job."

  Ed grinned. “Took me a weekend. It's easy if you know what you're doing."

  "Well, you do nice work; it looks really solid, well-built."

  "Thanks. I try. I always liked to work with my hands, even before I retired."

  "What sort of work did you do?” asked Carole.

  "I was a policeman, thirty years on the force, down in Boston. I moved up here right after I retired. How about you two?"

  "Well, I'm a physical therapist, and Tom is a lawyer."

  Ed frowned. “What kind of lawyer?” he asked suspiciously.

  "Oh, definitely not criminal law,” said Tom quickly, anticipating the former policeman's likely antipathy towards defense attorneys. “I deal mostly with wills and trusts, things like that."

  "Oh, no, listen, I didn't mean anything by that,” said Ed, almost apologetically. “Actually, I was thinking about Lucy. She's always had trouble with lawyers. I remember there were some legal complications when she wanted to sell some property she had inherited from her mother; some problem with the chain of title, I think. She told me that she'd also had trouble settling the estate when her husband died."

  "Lucy was married?"

  "She was a widow from a very young age, or so I understand. I never actually met her husband, but they must have been very close. You know,’ he said, shaking his head, “in all the years I've known Lucy, I've never seen her with another man; I mean, well, you know what I mean. Pretty hard to believe, right? Just look at her; you'd never think that she could stay on the loose very long.” He grinned broadly. “But it's true. Yeah, just her and her cat, for all those years."

  As if on cue, Lucinda's black cat came slinking down the stairs. He sauntered over to Ed and rubbed against his leg, eyeing Tom and Carole warily.

  "Hey, Sammy!” said Ed, playfully scratching the cat behind the ears. “How are you doing boy? Did you come down to say hello to me, huh? Or do you want to check out these new people? What about them? Do you think they're all right? I'm not so sure.” He looked over at Tom and Carole and smiled. “No, I guess that they're okay."

  The cat walked away from Ed and slowly made his way over to the other couch to investigate these two new faces, sniffing around them cautiously, and then, satisfied that they posed no threat, rubbing against their legs, first Carole's, and then Tom's. Tom leaned down extended one finger in front of the cat's face, and he rubbed that as well, finally even licking it. He purred softly, and then, suddenly, with that brash insouciance that only felines possess, jumped onto Tom's lap, closed his eyes, and curled up into a little black ball.

  "That's amazing,” said Ed, genuinely surprised. “He must really like you. I've never seen him do that, at least not with someone he didn't know, in all the time that I've known Lucy."

  "How longhave you and Lucy known each other?” Carole asked.

  "It's been twenty-five years now, since I first moved up here."

  "She must have been only a child then,” Tom commented.

  "Well, she was running the tea shop back then, so I guess she must have been a grown woman. She was probably in her mid-twenties, or maybe early thirties, so she's at least fifty years old now. At least."

  "Really? That's hard to believe.” Tom was genuinely surprised. “I would have never guessed that she was over thirty-five."

  "She looks wonderful for that age,” remarked Carole, equally surprised.

  "Yeah, she never changes,” said Ed admiringly. “She's a good-looking woman; yes, one good-looking woman. And she takes care of herself. She's really into good health—you know, exercise, and healthy eating, green teas, and all those herbal teas. That's how I met her, really, through my wife. She was a real health nut too, into health foods and herbs and all that stuff, and she hooked up with Lucy right away when we first moved up here.” He shook his head. “Ironic, isn't it? I mean, about all that health food stuff Look, I've been eating bacon and eggs for breakfast my whole life, and I've been drin
king a beer every day since I was eighteen, and I'm seventy-seven years old, and my wife...” He sighed. “She got sick the second winter we were here: ovarian cancer. By the time they found it, it was really too late. They couldn't operate on her. They tried that chemotherapy, but that was a waste. It only made her feel worse, the way I saw it.” He took a long draught of his beer. “I think that by itself would have killed her, if it weren't for Lucy. You know, they kept changing Claire's medications—that was her name, Claire—trying to find some combination that would work, and every time they did, she'd be sick as a dog, you know, throwing up her guts, couldn't eat anything, so weak she could hardly get out of bed. Lucy would always come up with some new herbal tea for her to take, and that was the only thing that would make her feel better; at least until the doctors decided to change to something else, then we'd go through it all over again. Finally, after about a year of that she stopped it all together; she never saw another doctor again, and she never took another treatment or pill or medicine or anything, just whatever tea Lucy brought her. She lasted about four more years; that's about three more then they thought she would when she first got sick."

  "So you do seem to feel,” asked Tom, measuring his words carefully, “that Lucy's herbs were effective, then, I mean, in keeping your wife alive?"

  Ed shrugged. “Who knows? They seemed to help with the side effects of the chemo, and she never really felt too bad after she stopped seeing the doctors, at least not until right at the very end. But they didn't cure her, that's for sure. She's just as dead.” He swallowed hard and looked away; his eyes beginning to tear slightly at the memory of his wife, the pain of the loss still there even after twenty years. “You know,” he said, seemingly ashamed at even this tiny outward display of emotion and eager to adopt a more neutral tone, “they say that a lot of that's mental. You know, when they're testing a new pill, they give half the people the real pill and half the people a dummy, what do they call it?"

  "A placebo?” said Carole, helpfully.

  "Yeah, that's it, a placebo.” Anyway, I kind of think that's what it is with those health foods, like those herbal teas that Lucy's so into. She really believes that they do things for her, so maybe for her, they work. If someone else thinks so, they might work for them, at least a little bit. Take me for instance. I took a slug once, back when I was on the job, from some little punk purse-snatcher with a zip gun. It never really healed up right, you know what I mean? It bothers me sometimes when it rains, and now I seem to have developed a touch of arthritis. Well, Lucy gave me some kind of herbal tea that was supposed to be good for that.” He smiled, visibly amused, his affection for his friend apparent. “She's always trying to give me something that's going to make me feel better."

  "And it doesn't work for you?” asked Tom.

  Ed shrugged. “Maybe a little, I guess.” He smiled gently. “But, I have to tell you, I kind of think that Advil does just as much for me. I guess that's the way it is with those home remedies. They work sometimes, for some people. But, for something really serious, you know, maybe they won't work for that. Sometimes nothing will.” He sighed resignedly. “Like they say, when it's your time, right?"

  "Yes,” agreed Tom, “I suppose that's true."

  "I'll bet she'll be starting on you two before long if she hasn't already; I mean, with all that ‘better health through herbs.’ Of course, you two both look pretty healthy; after all, you're just a couple of kids."

  The conversation was interrupted when Lucinda came down the stairs, having freshened up and exchanged her gardening outfit for a stylishly-cut long skirt and a fitted blouse, both black, the familiar green charm on a delicate gold chain around her neck, her elegantly casual style perfectly matching the environment of her home.

  "I'm so sorry that I took so long,” she said graciously, although the delay had not been unreasonable.

  "No problem,” said Carole. “We've been having a very nice conversation with your friend Ed here."

  "Ed and I are very good friends, and I would be very happy for you to get to know each other,” said Lucinda, smiling. “I just hope that he hasn't given away any of my darkest secrets,” she added jocularly.

  Just then Carole remembered something. “Ido know you from somewhere else, Ed. Haven't I seen you at the eleven o'clock mass at St. Alban's Church?"

  "Oh ... yeah ... it's possible,” said Ed uneasily. “Sometimes I go to the eleven; you may have seen me there.” He drained the last of his beer and abruptly got up from the couch. “Well, it was very nice to meet you both,” he said, reaching over and shaking hands with first Carole and then Tom. “Call me when you need me again, Lucy,” he said to Lucinda, putting up his hand. “I'll see myself out.” He made his way quickly to the front door and exited.

  "Did I say something wrong?” asked Carole aloud, to no one in particular.

  "No, that's just Ed trying not to get into it with me. He knows my feelings about ... that."

  "Tom and I are both Catholic,” said Carole. “We actually met at church."

  "I take it that you're not,” said Tom, shrugging matter-of-factly.

  "No, I'm not,” said Lucinda. “Not any more, anyway. My family was, actually, and my husband was Anglican."

  "Well, my grandfather once told me to never discuss religion or politics with your friends, especially if you know that they don't feel the same way as you do."

  "I suppose that there's some wisdom in that policy,” said Lucinda, but it was obvious that she didn't really agree with it. “So,” she exclaimed, changing the subject, “I see that you have met my Sammy."

  "Oh, yes,” said Tom, stroking the cat's back. “We're getting along just fine. Of course, I've always liked cats."

  Carole nodded. “Yeah, Tommy likes cats all right. I think he used to feed every stray in the neighborhood. You had a cat when we met, remember?"

  Tom nodded and smiled as he thought of Frostie, a little white female he had taken into his home before he met Carole, which had been a potential problem because her Yukon was a breed of dog that did not particularly like cats and was large enough to do them serious harm. It had been fortunate in a way then that Frostie had passed on to cat heaven just before he and Carole had married.

  "Well, Sammy and I are extremely close.” As if on cue, Sammy opened his eyes and stood up, stretching out his paws in the way that cats do, then jumped from Tom's lap and walked over to Lucinda. Lucinda dropped to one knee, and Sammy leaped onto her shoulder. Lucinda gently brushed the side of his head with her open palm and Sammy licked the side of Lucinda's head. It appeared that he would have been content to remain there indefinitely until Lucinda gently tapped the floor in front of her. “Come on, Sammy!” Sammy jumped off his perch on her shoulders and bounded onto the couch opposite Tom and Carole.

  Lucinda stood up. “I suppose that I should be starting dinner. I'm serving a green salad and a fish chowder. I prepared most of it in advance, so it won't take too long."

  "Can we do anything to help you?” Carole asked.

  "No, you two relax. I'll have it ready in just a bit.” With that, Lucinda disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Tom and Carole alone in the living room with Sammy. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, until finally Lucinda emerged from the kitchen.

  "I'm serving my salad now,” she said genially. “I had wanted to eat outside tonight, but it's a bit too hot, I'm afraid. The dining room is right this right this way."

  Lucinda led Tom and Carole over into her formal dining room, which was adjacent to the living room, on the other side of the kitchen. A large rectangular table was already set, in a casually elegant manner consistent with just about everything else in Lucinda's house: fine off-white china with a simple gold pattern, a plain sterling silver service, linen napkins, and two matching pieces of crystal stemware at each place setting, a large goblet and a smaller, fluted champagne glass. A gorgeous cut-glass salad bowl filled with a tossed salad of assorted greens and fresh raw vegetables, dressed with a delicate
vinaigrette, was already on the table, along with a pitcher of cold water and a basket of dinner rolls. Near the head of the table was an ice bucket which contained a bottle of wine. The table accommodated six chairs, and there were five place settings, which seemed odd because, even if Ed had stayed, there would have been only four people expected for dinner.

  "What a beautiful table!” Carole exclaimed.

  "Why, thank you. Yes, I suppose that I do have some nice things. Some of them have been in my family for ages."

  "Yes,” Tom remarked, “they are very nice. Carole and I like to use our good china at least once in a while. What good is having it if you don't get some use out of it?"

  Well, I wanted to bring out my best for my two new, good friends,” said Lucinda warmly. “Here,” she said gesturing to the chairs to the right of the head of the table farthest from the kitchen, “Why don't you sit next to me Tom, and Carole, you sit next to your husband; no need to be formal."