Good Heavens by Margaret A. Graham

the piano. He asked the price, and when I said, “Five hundred,” he hung up on me. That was discouraging. I went back in the kitchen and told the girls, “I guess we’re asking too much for that piano.”
    Lenora shook her head. “No, you aren’t asking too much.”
    I was surprised to hear her say that, mainly because she hardly says anything. She added, “Any Steinway is worth a lot more.”
    â€œBut it’s in such bad shape.”
    â€œI know,” she said, her lifeless eyes the color of slate.
    â€œYou play, don’t you?” I asked.
    â€œI play,” she answered.
    Ursula had told me Lenora played in nightclubs until her drinking got the better of her, but I didn’t think I should pry to find out anything more. “I wonder what’s keeping Ursula?”
    â€œWon’t she be home for lunch?” Evelyn asked.
    â€œI hope so.”

    But she wasn’t. The girls came in from the garden,and we sat down to the sandwiches and tea. Hearing the women talking with each other was encouraging, and I tried to keep a conversation going at our table with Dora, Linda, Portia, and the two from the kitchen. Linda did most of the talking. “When the cat’s away, the mice will play,” she was saying. “Miss E., when we finish in the garden, can we go down to the falls?”
    â€œThe falls?”
    â€œYeah. The falls are down in back of here, only there’s not so much falls as rocks—big boulders the size of city buses. Musta been an earthquake or something that tore ’em loose and sent ’em down the mountain. Creek water runs in and around and under them. I climbed to the top one time. Climbing to the top takes some smarts because you have to pick your way up, but I got no problem with that. You can see way downriver from up there. Can we go?”
    â€œWe better wait for Miss Ursula and ask her.”
    â€œOh, she won’t let us go,” Linda grumbled. “But maybe if you go with us she will.”
    â€œWell, I’ll go with you, but she’s the director; she’s the one you’ll have to ask for permission.”
    Linda groaned. “She’ll say no.”

    Ursula didn’t come and didn’t come. I was concerned that she might have run out of gas or something. But at about 3:00 she turned in the driveway, and I went down to meet her at the back door. “Did you get the loan?”
    â€œWell, maybe. All their computers are down. I kept waiting, but they finally told me it was no use waitingany longer, to come back Monday.” She sounded tired. “Anyway, the president of the board has to sign the forms, so they promised to mail them to Mr. Elmwood.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said, “the ten days are not up until Wednesday. This is only Friday.”
    â€œI know,” she said. She looked beat.
    â€œHave you had lunch?”
    â€œNo,” she said, so I told her to go on over to her apartment and I’d bring her a sandwich.
    While I was making the sandwich, Linda came in from the garden. “Did you ask her? Did you ask her if we can go to the falls?”
    â€œNot yet,” I said. “I will, I’ll ask her. Better yet, you ask her. Here, take this tray over to her apartment.”
    â€œHer apartment is off-limits to us.”
    â€œI see. Then I’ll take it.” Linda walked with me to open the doors. “Good heavens, you girls have earned a treat. Look at all those rocks you’ve piled up there. We can use those rocks to build a wall or make a patio or something.”
    â€œYou don’t know when to quit, do you, Miss E.? You’re a Type A if ever I saw one.”
    â€œWhat’s a Type A?”
    â€œIt’s a workaholic—somebody who don’t never quit. You’re a prime target for heart attack or stroke.”
    â€œWho told you that?”
    â€œMiss E., if you had been in as many rehabs as I have,