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Of course, I wondered what had given her this burst of energy and new self-confidence. From the little she had said about the night before, about going to the first Audrina’s bedroom and sitting in the rocking chair, I gathered that what she had imagined had made her feel more important, because Papa had come to her and not to me or to Arden. She was eager to get home, help me put away the groceries, and go back up to the cupola to finish her new picture.
“I’m going to speak to someone today to help arrange for you to have an art teacher come to the house to show you things, different techniques and ways to make your pictures more beautiful, Sylvia. You still want me to do that?”
She thought a moment and nodded.
“All right. When I find the right person, Sylvia, I would like you not to talk to him or her about Papa and the rocking chair. Papa and the rocking chair are our secret, right?”
“Yes. I’ll never tell,” she said, putting her hand over her heart and hooking her pinkie with mine to make a pinkie promise. Like a little girl, she obviously enjoyed the idea of having a secret with her older sister.
“Okay,” I said, “our secret.”
After she went up to the cupola, I called the first person who came to mind for advice about something like this, Mrs. Haider, the retired principal of Whitefern High School. She had always been very kind to me and had taken a personal interest in me when I finally began to attend the public school. Because Whitefern was a relatively small town, our school was small enough for her to know some private information about her students.
She knew I had been homeschooled, of course, and that I had lost my mother when she had given birth to Sylvia. She knew of Sylvia, but, like most people, she didn’t know very much about her, because in those years, Sylvia was rarely seen. After her retirement, I had seen Mrs. Haider occasionally in the village, and she was always quite friendly and very correct about how she asked questions. I never got the impression that she was a town gossip. I had no hesitations about telling her things concerning my family. She always ended her conversations with me by saying, “I hope all goes well with you, Audrina.”
Her smile was sincere. She was a pretty woman, always perfectly put together, with coordinating colors and style. Her green eyes were still vibrantly emerald and contrasted nicely with her snow-white hair layered in an attractive bob.
Mrs. Haider was a widow with three adult children, all of whom had families but lived far away, her son in New York and her two daughters in South Carolina. She had seven grandchildren and lived in a modest two-story house on the north side of Whitefern.
When she answered her phone this morning, she sounded absolutely delighted to hear from me. She listened patiently while I described Sylvia as best I could and what I wanted for her now.
“That’s very commendable of you, Audrina. I think that’s a brilliant idea, and I know just the person for this assignment. As it turns out, Mr. Price, one of our art teachers, retired just last year, and from what his wife has been telling me, he is quite bored. They’re not travelers, and he hates golf,” she said, laughing. “Why don’t I call him for you and, if he’s interested, give him your phone number?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Haider,” I said. “That’s very kind.”
“Oh, indeed,” she said. “I, too, like the idea that I can continue to be of some use.” She laughed again.
/> After I hung up, I called Arden at his office.
“He’s in a meeting, Mrs. Lowe,” Mrs. Crown said. “Is this an emergency?”
She sounded annoyed. A woman in her forties and married to a bank teller, Barton Crown, a man Arden called an untrustworthy leech, Mrs. Crown was a little too protective of Arden, in my opinion. I didn’t think there was any doubt she’d rather he was her husband. She was a plain-looking woman with one of those complexions Momma used to call “an unripe peach.” Her makeup seemed to fade as the day progressed, leaving her looking bloodless, with dark brown eyes. Aunt Ellsbeth would say, “She shows cleavage in hopes you won’t look at her face.”
“Oh, no, but please have him call me as soon as he’s free.”
“Yes, I will,” she said. “As soon as that’s possible.”
I didn’t say thank you. I just hung up.
Less than a half hour later, Mr. Price called to tell me he would love to be of some assistance.
“When would you like me to begin?” he asked, sounding very eager. I guessed Mrs. Haider wasn’t exaggerating when she said he was bored with his retirement.
“As soon as you wish,” I said. We hadn’t even discussed the cost.
“I could come this afternoon to get acquainted with the young lady. How’s three o’clock?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” I said. “Perhaps we should discuss the cost.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement,” he said. “I think it’s important first that your sister be comfortable with me.”
He was right. I wondered what he knew about Sylvia and what he didn’t. I didn’t want any brutal disappointments to occur. I was afraid of how that might disturb Sylvia, especially if someone rejected working with her because he thought she wasn’t capable of learning. Arden, of course, would feel vindicated and say something like “I told you so.”
“Do you know anything about my sister?” I asked.
“I know she’s been homeschooled?”
“She was born premature and had to remain in an institutional setting until she was about two and a half. If she had attended a public school, she would surely have been placed in special education. She still needs me to look after her, but she is very pleasant and courteous. However, she is quite sensitive,” I added, loading my voice with warning. “She can tell when someone is talking down to her or looking down at her.”
