Chapter Four

Eugenia Quincy’s Sudden Fancy

Mrs. Eugenia Quincy shifted restlessly in her pew. She wished that Patterson, her husband, wouldn’t insist on attending this simple little chapel every Sunday. There was a perfectly beautiful church in town that was so much more respectable. The wheezy pump organ here was highly inferior to the magnificent instrument at St. Jerome’s. And the people … well, she wouldn’t even think about the people. No one in her social set would dream of worshipping in a place like this.

The subject had come up yesterday evening.

“Patterson, I don’t understand why we can’t attend St. Jerome’s services with all our friends,” she had said.

“I know you don’t,” Patterson had replied. “That’s why I’ve given up trying to explain it to you.”

“Really, you are most annoying. You’ve been offered a position as deacon at St. Jerome’s, and you turned it down to usher in that dreary Briarlane chapel! Do you honestly feel that place befits your station in life?”

“Why, yes, my dear. I’ve attended the chapel since I was a child, and it hasn’t hindered my reaching this ‘station in life,’ as you call it. In fact, I would say that I’ve been helped tremendously over the years. I owe a great deal to that little church.”

“Hmmph. They owe a great deal to you, if you ask me. They certainly couldn’t pay the minister if you didn’t contribute. Most of the congregation comes from that orphanage, and everyone knows how much money they have. I would think that serving as president of the board at the Briars would be enough sacrifice for you to make.”

Patterson had gone back to his paper, but Eugenia hadn’t finished speaking her mind.

“I’m certainly in favor of charitable work, but must it be something so … so religious?”

“I would hardly call teaching Christian values to children too religious,” her husband replied. “It seems highly superior to having them grow up on the streets.”

“Of course I have nothing against good moral training for them. It’s right to be interested in their spiritual welfare. But does it have to take over your whole life?”

A glance at his face told Eugenia she had ventured far enough. It was time to back down. “Oh, never mind. You just don’t understand how I feel. But we won’t discuss it any further.”

“Thank you, Eugenia. You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.”

And so this Sunday morning, they were seated near the front of the chapel as the children and staff from the Home filed into their seats across the aisle. Eugenia watched them listlessly, as she did each week. The boys wore denim pants and white shirts, and the girls were attired in light-blue dresses covered with crisp white pinafores. Each child resembled the others. She wondered idly if they had individual names at least.

Suddenly Eugenia sat up and clutched her husband’s arm. “Look at that perfectly gorgeous child! The one sitting next to Matron Daly. I haven’t seen him before. Does he belong there?”

Patterson squinted toward the group. “That must be one of the new children who came last week. George Lehman mentioned that four more arrived. All one family, I think.”

The congregation rose at that moment to begin the service, and Eugenia could say nothing more. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the sturdy child. His dark hair lay in waves across his forehead, and his wide gaze took in his new surroundings. When the organ began to play, his attention was riveted on it.

As she watched the boy throughout the service, Eugenia daydreamed. After twelve years of marriage, she and Patterson had no children. This was of little concern to Eugenia, for her life seemed complete with the social affairs that filled her days. As the wife of Briarlane’s foremost judge and mistress of the most elegant house in town, Eugenia spent her time at literary-club meetings, fund-raising activities, teas, and parties.

Now it occurred to her that a child like that could enhance her position in Briarlane. Certainly none of her friends had one like him. Their children tended to be noisy, fussy, and ill-mannered. She pictured herself accompanied about town by this small object of perfection. He would be dressed in the latest fashion in a white suit and shoes that buttoned up the sides. He would walk quietly beside her and greet her friends politely. She would see that he had the latest books and toys to entertain him.

By the time the service ended, Eugenia Quincy had mentally embarked upon motherhood and was enjoying her new standing in town.

It seemed to take forever to bow to the other parishioners and wait for Patterson to finish visiting with all his friends. At last they were seated in their limousine and headed for home.

“Patterson, I must have that little boy!”

Her husband turned a startled gaze in her direction. “You must have what?”

“The child who has come to the Briars,” Eugenia said impatiently. “The one I pointed out to you before the service. I want you to see about getting him immediately.”

He regarded her as though she had taken leave of her senses. “Eugenia, you can’t be serious! You know nothing about that child. We aren’t acquainted with his background or his family. We don’t even know that he’s available for adoption. How have you reached this decision when you’ve only seen him for less than an hour—and that from across the church?”

“I know what I want when I see it,” Eugenia replied firmly. “And I want that boy.”

Patterson shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. “I propose that we have a quiet dinner before we continue this discussion. I need time to digest what I’ve already heard.”

Eugenia knew by the set of his chin that this would be the final word on the matter until he brought it up again, so she settled into her corner of the car to plan her next move. This might be more difficult than she had envisioned. Patterson could be quite determined when he chose to be.

By the time Eugenia joined her husband on the veranda that afternoon, she was confident that her arguments were sensible and well thought out. She was prepared to answer any objections he might bring forth. She relaxed in her cushioned rocker and bent her head demurely over her embroidery, the picture of patience.

After a lengthy silence, Patterson spoke. “Now, suppose you tell me your reasons for wishing to bring a child into the house at this time?”

It wasn’t the way she had expected the conversation to begin. Eugenia hadn’t explored that aspect of the situation. There was no reason. She simply had been taken by the handsome little boy and wanted him for her own. But caution told her that this explanation wouldn’t satisfy her husband. Perhaps, she admitted to herself, she was bored and needed a new interest in life. She probably wouldn’t do well to divulge that information either. What reason would sound logical enough to bring Patterson around to her way of thinking?

“Well?”

“Why, any child has a better chance in life in a home with two parents than in an institution, don’t you think? And especially a home that can offer him the advantages we could afford.” Eugenia warmed to her subject and hastened on. “The upper floor could be turned into a nursery and schoolroom. I will find a competent woman to take care of him, and he will be a lot of company for us.”

“I wasn’t aware that you felt the need for more company, my dear. I’ve been on the board of trustees at the Home for ten years, and you’ve never expressed an interest in taking one of those children into your care. On the contrary, you’ve avoided any contact with them. Isn’t that so?”

Eugenia felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Well, yes. But they are quite common children. One can’t just pick a child off the streets and …” She was backed into a corner, at a loss to explain why this child had taken her fancy or why she felt that she must have him. But Eugenia Quincy was not one to give up without a fight. If this approach didn’t work, she would try another.

“I believe we had better give the subject more thought,” Patterson said. “Before one takes on the responsibility of a child, there must be compelling reasons for doing so.”

Eugenia said no more, but she was fully committed to pursuing the matter on her own. Let her husband do the thinking. She would act.