Martin a questioning look
as he passed his bowl for another refill.
"I've put Buddy up on the third floor," she
explained as she filled the bowl. "I thought I would make the room
off the kitchen into the sitting room for myself and Buddy. We can
take our meals in there when the others are here. There's plenty of
room for a small table and a comfortable chair or two and a
television for Buddy. He enjoys his TV in the evening."
"Ghost Detectives. That's my favorite." Buddy
bobbed his head in agreement. Every night at eight o'clock p.m. on
channel forty-six."
"Which is why you have trouble falling
asleep," his mother told him. She paused from her ladling duty to
give his hand an affectionate pat and then turned back to Charles.
"I'll take the room upstairs next to his."
"I don't like the idea of you running up and
down those stairs." Charles accepted his bowl but left it sitting
in front of him. "The house is big enough as it is without you
taking extra steps and I see no reason why you can't continue to
take your meals with us."
Mrs. Martin smiled and nodded her thanks.
"This is fine for every day, but not when you're holding court.
When folks come to visit, we'll take our meals separate, as we
should. I won't have folks here about looking down on you. You have
a reputation to uphold. Fine man like you can't be eating with the
hired help. As for moving upstairs, Buddy doesn't like to sleep
alone. He sleeps better if I'm nearby. We'll be fine. You take care
of your business and we'll take care of ourn."
"You are my business. If you want to move
upstairs, that's fine, but you'll move to the second floor."
"And what will your company think when
they're tucked up under the eaves in the servant's quarters?" Mrs.
Martin was clearly displeased, having her own ideas of what was
proper and what was not.
"They'll think my housekeeper and groundsman
must be worth their weight in gold. They'll probably try to lure
you away with promises of better pay," Charles laughed.
Mrs. Martin suddenly looked like she was
going to cry. She fanned her face with her hand and jumped up from
the table. "I forgot the dessert," she said and fled to the
kitchen.
"What did I say?" Charles asked.
"Maybe I should go check on her." Kat was
about to rise, but there was no need.
Mrs. Martin came through the door and plopped
a bowl of strawberries and cream in front of Charles. She
straightened her back and took a deep breath.
"I've been keeping other people's houses for
as far back as I can remember," she said in a rush, "And nobody's
treated me and Buddy with such care and kindness as you have since
we left your mama's house. There's no money in the world that can
buy that." Her eyes filled again and she flapped her hands.
"Dammit, I forgot the spoon," she said and fled to the kitchen
again.
Charles sat back and just shook his head in
bafflement.
"I think that was a thank you," Kat
whispered.
"What's a groundsman, Charlie?" Buddy asked
looking up from his bowl. "Where's he going to sleep?"
"You're the groundsman, Buddy." Charles
nodded to Mrs. Martin as she took her seat and began to spoon out
the strawberries as if nothing had happened. "It's your job to keep
the outside of the house neat and tidy and to keep an eye on things
when I'm not around. It's an important job and I need someone I can
trust."
Buddy beamed at the complement and leaned
across the table to pat Kat's hand. "Don't you worry, Miss Kitty
Kat, I won't let you down." He turned to Charles "I got to keep an
eye on her, Charlie. She's from the city and she says she needs
someone to teach her country ways. She's just a bitty thing and
real smart and won't take much watchin', so I think I can be your
groundsman, too. But you gots to know, Charlie, Miss Kitty Kat
comes first. She tried to fight off those men to save me. Mama says
we was lucky she didn't get herself kilt. We're beholding to her,
so she comes first."
"Absolutely, Buddy," Charles told him
solemnly. "Miss Kitty Kat should
as he passed his bowl for another refill.
"I've put Buddy up on the third floor," she
explained as she filled the bowl. "I thought I would make the room
off the kitchen into the sitting room for myself and Buddy. We can
take our meals in there when the others are here. There's plenty of
room for a small table and a comfortable chair or two and a
television for Buddy. He enjoys his TV in the evening."
"Ghost Detectives. That's my favorite." Buddy
bobbed his head in agreement. Every night at eight o'clock p.m. on
channel forty-six."
"Which is why you have trouble falling
asleep," his mother told him. She paused from her ladling duty to
give his hand an affectionate pat and then turned back to Charles.
"I'll take the room upstairs next to his."
"I don't like the idea of you running up and
down those stairs." Charles accepted his bowl but left it sitting
in front of him. "The house is big enough as it is without you
taking extra steps and I see no reason why you can't continue to
take your meals with us."
Mrs. Martin smiled and nodded her thanks.
"This is fine for every day, but not when you're holding court.
When folks come to visit, we'll take our meals separate, as we
should. I won't have folks here about looking down on you. You have
a reputation to uphold. Fine man like you can't be eating with the
hired help. As for moving upstairs, Buddy doesn't like to sleep
alone. He sleeps better if I'm nearby. We'll be fine. You take care
of your business and we'll take care of ourn."
"You are my business. If you want to move
upstairs, that's fine, but you'll move to the second floor."
"And what will your company think when
they're tucked up under the eaves in the servant's quarters?" Mrs.
Martin was clearly displeased, having her own ideas of what was
proper and what was not.
"They'll think my housekeeper and groundsman
must be worth their weight in gold. They'll probably try to lure
you away with promises of better pay," Charles laughed.
Mrs. Martin suddenly looked like she was
going to cry. She fanned her face with her hand and jumped up from
the table. "I forgot the dessert," she said and fled to the
kitchen.
"What did I say?" Charles asked.
"Maybe I should go check on her." Kat was
about to rise, but there was no need.
Mrs. Martin came through the door and plopped
a bowl of strawberries and cream in front of Charles. She
straightened her back and took a deep breath.
"I've been keeping other people's houses for
as far back as I can remember," she said in a rush, "And nobody's
treated me and Buddy with such care and kindness as you have since
we left your mama's house. There's no money in the world that can
buy that." Her eyes filled again and she flapped her hands.
"Dammit, I forgot the spoon," she said and fled to the kitchen
again.
Charles sat back and just shook his head in
bafflement.
"I think that was a thank you," Kat
whispered.
"What's a groundsman, Charlie?" Buddy asked
looking up from his bowl. "Where's he going to sleep?"
"You're the groundsman, Buddy." Charles
nodded to Mrs. Martin as she took her seat and began to spoon out
the strawberries as if nothing had happened. "It's your job to keep
the outside of the house neat and tidy and to keep an eye on things
when I'm not around. It's an important job and I need someone I can
trust."
Buddy beamed at the complement and leaned
across the table to pat Kat's hand. "Don't you worry, Miss Kitty
Kat, I won't let you down." He turned to Charles "I got to keep an
eye on her, Charlie. She's from the city and she says she needs
someone to teach her country ways. She's just a bitty thing and
real smart and won't take much watchin', so I think I can be your
groundsman, too. But you gots to know, Charlie, Miss Kitty Kat
comes first. She tried to fight off those men to save me. Mama says
we was lucky she didn't get herself kilt. We're beholding to her,
so she comes first."
"Absolutely, Buddy," Charles told him
solemnly. "Miss Kitty Kat should
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