Pam heard the squeal of tires and looked toward Main Street as Patricks truck zoomed out of sight. I hope so, she answered.
* * *
THE WHITE FRAME HOUSE was on Morgan Avenue, two stories high with a wraparound porch and green shuttered windows. There was a Victorian elegance to the old building, Pam thought as she parked her car in the side drive. She watched Rosemary hurry out of the car. Five foot eight, Rosemary was bigger than Pam and incredibly strong, yet she moved with a style and grace that Pam envied.
You want to put old slobbering Samson in the backyard for now? Rosemary asked with an affectionate pat on the dogs head.
Pam nodded, and slipped on the dogs leash as she opened the car door. Settling Samson inside the fenced enclosure, she returned to the front and climbed the wooden steps with Rosemary. A swing, painted red, hung from two chains at the far end of the porch. Very inviting, she thought.
About five years ago, Rosemary said, opening the screen door for her, after the owner died, the heirs renovated the house, turning it into four apartments. Theyre all very roomy and comfortable. Mrs. Tibbs, a sweet but somewhat nosy widow, lives on the right, a young married couple upstairs on one side and a piano teacher across the hall from them. Mines this one on the lower left. She paused in the neat hallway, glancing at mail spread on a small mahogany table. Nothing for me. Pulling out a key, she unlocked the door.
Charming was the word, Pam thought as she looked about. A rich carved mantel above a huge stone fireplace, highly polished floors with gently faded area rugs in floral designs, and furniture you could no longer buy. Running a hand along an overstuffed rose couch, Pam smiled. Are these your things?
No, not a single piece. I arrived with only my clothes. Rosemary went through the arch into the dining room and past into the spacious kitchen. It even came with dishes and pots. Dont you just love it?
Strolling past the drop-leaf table and an antique Singer sewing machine, Pam agreed. Who owns this place now?
Rosemary poured lemonade into two glasses tinted pale gold. I dont know. Relatives of one of the original families of Tyler, I think. When you get to meeting people around here, youll learn that half the towns related in some way to the other half. Handing Pam her drink, she tilted up her own glass and drank thirstily.
Sipping, Pam wandered back into the living room. Lace curtains billowed at the front bay window, dancing in a lively late-afternoon breeze. A large maple tree just outside shaded the whole front yard. She saw a squirrel with bulging cheeks scamper busily up into thick limbs and get lost in the leafy top. Turning, she sat down on the comfortably sagging sofa with starched doilies pinned to each armrest and sighed.
Its like time has stood still in this house. I feel like I walked into a fifties movie.
Rosemary flung herself into the chair opposite Pam. Maybe the forties, even. I was lucky to find this apartment.
Are you sure you dont mind my moving in with you? Pam asked with a worried look.
I told you back in Chicago that Id love the company. Therere two large bedrooms and a big bath with this marvelous claw-footed tub. And Im not even here much, what with working at Tyler General Hospital, my commitment to the Davis Rehab Center in Chicago and my backpacking trips.
Ill pay half the rent, of course. I cant believe how low it is compared to Chicago apartments.
Isnt it great? Rosemary finished her drink and set the glass aside. So tell me, how are you feeling?
Fine.
Honestly? No pain, no numbness, no tingling? Dont lie to me now. Im your therapist, remember.
I remember. I truly feel great. No symptoms at all. I think Im solidly in remission.
Good. Rosemary nodded. If you have any problemsI mean anylet me know. Therapy works best if we catch the problem early. You know how sneaky MS is. One day you notice a little blurry vision, next day your big toe goes numb, and the third day you try to stand and you cant feel anything from the knees down.
Pam stared into the cloudy remains of her drink. I know. Believe me, I dont want that happening. Ill tell you at the first
sign.
This job at the school, do you think youll have a lot of stress with it? Stress can aggravate your condition, you know.
Pam shrugged. No more than anyone else starting in a new position in a new town. She looked up, remembering the man whod tackled her, the warm way hed looked at her, then the way his eyes had frosted over when he learned who she was. What do you know about Patrick Kelsey?
Rosemary swung both legs over the fat arm of the easy chair, scrunching down comfortably. His family goes way back. Hes a descendant of one of the first families. His parents own and operate Kelsey Boardinghouse on Gunther Street not far from here. Plus his father works at the Ingalls plant and his mother is receptionist for Dr. Phelps. Annas real personable. I want you to meet George Phelps, too. Hes a good man in case you need a doctor.