shook her head as she heard her mother’s neighbor Charlotte speak loudly to an older man in the kitchen, “Oh, yes, she has had help with her fields. She pays a local fellow and he does a good job. Dare say, she won’t be alone. This fellow comes two or three times a week to help around this farm. She just wouldn’t have been able to keep this farm nice what with her husband being so ill and all these last two years. Now, finally Margaret will have more than enough money to keep the place in good standing.”
Picking up another raisin bran muffin from the kitchen table, Sophia turned to study her mother. Margaret sat in the sitting room by herself, waiting for the guests to come to her as the mourning queen. Most of the neighbors were standing outside the kitchen door in the cold wind, talking and sharing stories. Mr. Perkal, the neighbor from next door, had filled his plate with food. He held the plate in one hand and a mug of steaming coffee in the other. He juggled his inventory as he lodged himself onto the couch beside Margaret’s red chair. The cracks in the leather couch widened with his body weight. “Margaret,” his deep voice rolled out, “we’re sorry about Walter. He was a fine friend and will be dearly missed.”
“Yes,” Margaret replied in a high pitch almost a chirp. “Thank you, Mr. Perkal. As you know, my husband has been bedridden for at least twenty-six months.” She tilted her head downwards to grin as a frail ten-year old girl might. Sophia decided to sit beside Mr. Perkal on the couch. Sophia noticed Margaret’s innocent behavior and smirked. Margaret gave Sophia a look of contention, “Couldn’t you have dressed for this occasion, Sophia?”
“Mother, I was getting the girls dressed for school when you called this morning. It was my impression you needed me here regardless of apparel demands.”
Mr. Perkal sniffed, “Cold outside today isn’t it? That wind cuts a person to the bone.” Margaret smiled at him as if he was demented then shifted her attention to Sophia. “Please get me a cup of tea, Sophia. Not that cheap stuff the neighbors brought, but the Earl Grey from in the cupboard. You know the one your brother ordered from England? Oh, and Sophia, get me an English muffin with some strawberry jam. I haven’t eaten yet this morning what with all of the company.” Margaret’s hand flung out to elaborate her words.
Sophia stuffed the remaining raisin bran muffin into her mouth, letting crumbs fall on her lap. “The strawberry jam that Granger brought you from Ireland?”
Margaret nodded as if giving out orders were an everyday event. “Yes, of course.”
Sophia entered into the kitchen’s inner sanctum. The seventy-six year old Charlotte was busy washing dishes and handing out napkins to the guests.
“How’s Margaret doing, dear?” Charlotte appeared frazzled with all of the people who had pushed into the kitchen. Her gray braids danced around her shoulders as she quickly turned to help each person. Sophia shrugged her shoulders as she reached over the stove for the famous Earl Grey tea box.
“Is the water hot in the tea kettle?” Sophia took down a china cup and saucer, no mug for her mother.
“Yes, it’s hot, but I don’t know how much water is still in it. Everyone has been helping themselves and as you can see, most of the folks prefer to be out on the back porch. They appear to choose the cold porch than the warm sitting room.” Charlotte lifted the tea kettle and shook it, “Yes, there’s plenty of water for your mother’s tea cup.”
Sophia returned to the sitting room with a silver tray in her hand. The tray held the china cup on a china saucer. The cup was filled with steaming water and the saucer had the bag of Earl Gray’s tea. A dessert plate held two halves of a toasted muffin smothered with strawberry jam. A tiny butter knife was beside the plate. “Here you go, Mom, your tea and muffin.”
Margaret nodded, “Just put them here, dear.” Margaret patted her lap as she uncrossed her legs. “Mr. Perkal has been telling me about his son who is attempting to get through college. Although, he doesn’t appear to be doing very well, does he, Mr. Perkal?”
Mr. Perkal sat up suddenly as if he had been electrocuted, “Not doing well? Not doing well? He is doing just fine.” He quickly retrieved his fallen plate, “My son has to work and attend classes. This means he pays his own way even if it does take longer, that’s all.” Mr. Perkal started scrambling to stand. Sophia helped him by taking the empty plate from his hand.
Mr. Perkal frowned. “Excuse me, please. I do believe I should be getting home now.” Hurriedly with mug and plate back in his hands, Mr. Perkal was gone. Sophia turned to study her mother. All the neighbors and friends were outside in the blustery wind. “Mum, why aren’t your friends in here with you?”
“Sophia, this is very good, thank you,” and then under her breath, “I have no idea and I find them to be intensely rude.”
Margaret glanced at the backdoor which was directly across the room from her. The fire in the fireplace crackled and spit. “Sophia, dear, would you mind adding another log to the fire? Perhaps if we get the fire roaring more people will come in here for they seem to prefer being outside. “
Sophia knelt by the fireplace. Taking the scoop shovel she moved the dark coals to the side, opening the air to the flames. Two heavy logs were placed on the now roaring orange fire. “Mom, where is Granger? Shouldn’t he be here to help you with things?”
“Oh, Sophia, it is so like you to blame your brother for everything. Your brother did not kill your father.” Margaret delicately nibbled the last of her English muffin. “Why do you hate your brother so much, Sophia? I have never been able to understand why you two hate each other. He was the smart one. You were the slow one, but that is no reason for you two to not like one another.”
Margaret wiped her lips with her handkerchief, “Why, oh, why don’t those people come in here? Sophia, go ask those people to come in here. I am the grieving widow for goodness sake! Go, Sophia, go and get those people in here. I am all dressed and even fixed my hair to entertain and yet they stand out there!” Margaret let out an exasperated sigh as she pointed to the backdoor.
Sophia leaned back on her boot heels as she knelt by the fire, “Mom, we’re dressed in our farm clothes. You look like you’re going to the Queen’s tea. Maybe they feel uncomfortable?”
“Nonsense, Sophia, get them. Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, get those people in here. They are people who have helped your father and me. They should be in here!”
Sophia pulled her scarf off from around her neck. She walked to the back door. Slowly, Sophia pushed the kitchen backdoor open, “Hey, guys, come inside by the roaring fire? My mother would enjoy your company right now.”
Tommy Ortiz let out a snort, “You mean come in and speak to her ladyship?”
Sophia spoke softly to the crowd, “Come in and warm up. You can speak to Mom if you like or you could just come in and keep her company. What do you say?” She turned back into the house to walk into the sitting room.
She heard the door close behind her and turned. Tommy had gently shut the back door behind her. No one had followed her inside. Margaret gave Sophia a glaring disapproval as she lifted herself with her hands from the chair. She charged across the room to the back door. Margaret grabbed her winter jacket off the hook and while wrapping around her, she quickly opened the door, “Please would you come inside! There is plenty of food and Sophia has stoked the fire.”
Silence ensued and then as if someone had fired a gun, the race began as people hurried around the farmhouse to their vehicles and drove away.
Charlotte’s cackling laughter could be heard in the kitchen, “Sophia, there was no way to get people to move faster! Do you want a cup of tea or some food? There is plenty of food on the table, help yourself?” Sophia watched Margaret as she called after the fleeting masses, “Fine, just leave me alone in my mourning!”
Sophia took a paper plate from Charlotte, “Sure, I’ll get some food in a minute.”
Coming back into the house, Margaret threw her winter jacket at Sophia, “Some help you are! If your brother would have