Irene Brand - Heiress

“What was the nature of Uncle Harrison’s illness? No one has told me.”

Minerva tapped her chest. “Heart trouble. He had a series of heart attacks that damaged his heart. The last few months he had to have oxygen and constant monitoring, and he chose to go to the nursing home, although we would have taken care of him.”

“I believe Aunt Sarah’s trouble was multiple sclerosis?”

“Yes, she was very young when the doctors diagnosed her. She was an intelligent woman and talented, but she hardly left the house after we came here, and he stayed close by her in the evenings, waiting on her hand and foot,” Minerva said. “He acted guilty sometimes, as if he blamed himself for her sickness and couldn’t do enough to make up for it. She died seven years ago. His life wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could have known them,” Allison said as she stood up. “I must get busy if I’m unpacked and ready to go to work on Monday. My time will be limited after that.”

“If there’s anything we can do, let us know. I cleared everything out of the closets and chests in your room and the other bedrooms have empty closets. For storage, there are rooms on the third floor we don’t use.”

“Perhaps we can store the boxes up there after I’ve unpacked.”

“Just let Adra know. I’m simmering a pot of soup in our apartment. Plan to eat lunch with us, and I’ll prepare your dinner down here. There’s a small door you can take from the second floor to access our stairway. Come on up when you’re ready to eat.”

Allison had organized her garments by seasonal wear and marked the boxes accordingly. She unpacked her winter clothes and hung them in the room she would occupy, and carried the boxes of spring and summer clothing into one of the spare bedrooms. She would leave them packed for the time being. She stopped at noon and took the stairs to the McRameys’ quarters.

The small stairway opened into their living room, a central squarish area that accessed the other major rooms. The kitchen was marked by a spire that served as a skylight over the McRameys’ table. Their two bedrooms featured dormer windows. After lunch Minerva took Allison into the storage area—odd-shaped rooms that provided plenty of space. The rooms were crowded with castoffs, and Minerva said, “When you have time, you may want to go through here and throw away a lot of stuff. Some of it is junk and should never have been stored.”

Rubbing her hand along a dusty dresser, Allison said with a laugh, “If it’s been here for years, I’ll not worry about it now. If I learn how to manage Page Publishing, I’ll have all I can do for a long time.” And she was determined to learn the business, whether or not Benton was willing to help her. “I’ll have my sister and brother come for a visit sometime and turn them loose up here. They’ll carry away everything my mother will let them have.” She had been thinking about her parents off and on all day, and she said slowly, “My mother didn’t want me to move to Columbus.”

A note of wistfulness must have crept into Allison’s voice, for Minerva’s arm circled her shoulders. “Mothers are like that,” she said. “We all have to cast off on our own eventually. You’ll be all right.”

“I want to spend some time looking around this house, getting to know what is here. Perhaps that way I can learn something about my aunt and uncle.”

“A good idea. You’ll find lots of reminders of them.”

“I’m going to telephone my parents and tell them where I am, and then I’ll get busy again.”

She went into the library to phone and was relieved when her father answered, for she felt better able to cope with him than her mother.

“I’ve moved into Uncle Harrison’s home, Daddy, and I want you to have my telephone number.”

“Are you living there alone?”

“No, a fine couple who have worked for Uncle Harrison for years will be staying with me. I like them, and we’ll get along well, I’m sure.”

“Do you like the house?”

“It’s unbelievable, and not as I would have expected a hundred-year-old dwelling to be. It’s in excellent repair. Uncle Harrison had it refurbished over the past several years. There are ten rooms besides the third floor where the McRameys live, and a full-sized basement—certainly more room and luxury than I need, but Mr. Curnutt thought I should live here for a few months before I make any decision about selling it.”

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