As Chester pulled into the carriage house, he was pleased the ordeal was over. There had never been an occasion when he’d had more difficulty deciding the best thing to do. But now that it was done, he knew the choice he’d made was the right one.
He unhitched Mary, took off the harness, and led the mare to her stall. He grabbed a brush and gave the horse a quick rub.
“Good girl,” he said. Mary answered with a soft snort, shoved her nose into the bin, and folded her lips around some oats.
Under the circumstances Chester had no regrets. Unpleasant and difficult as it was, it had been right to do it, and sometimes the right thing was not the easy or pleasant thing. Chester was convinced that if more people accepted that idea as true, the world would be better off for it.
The whole thing—all of it—had been hard on Polly, and it would take time for her to get better, but at least now she would get better.
For a while he’d considered going around Polly and Cedra to the law. Sonny Pratt deserved to be brought to task for what he had done, but finally Chester had decided against it. That would not help Polly. It might have made things worse.
Chester hung up the harness and threw a cover over the phaeton. Before he blew out the lamp, he glanced into the corner where the moto-cycle leaned against the wall. It made him feel good to look at it. Shiny and blue. Uncle Oscar was going to make a fortune on these things. This Sunday Chester would take Micah for a ride. Maybe they’d go into the mountains. If Micah resisted, Chester would berate and humiliate him until the poor wretch gave in.
With a smile, he told himself how nice it was to have his friend back home.
As Chester walked up the path toward the house, he realized he was hungry. He’d had little appetite the last few days, but now he was starved. He wasn’t sure what Mrs. Eggers was cooking for supper, but whatever it was, he expected he’d be piling on double portions.
The door from the back porch led into the kitchen, and Chester was surprised when he came in and didn’t see Mrs. Eggers at her cooking chores. It was already late. They always ate well before now.
“Mrs. Eggers,” he called out. When there was no answer, he left the kitchen and walked into the hall. He could see a light coming from the parlor, and he headed in that direction. “Mrs. Eggers,” he called out again. Still there was no response, but when he rounded the corner into the parlor, he saw her. She was sitting in his good chair, the one he’d had Mr. Collier order from the factory in North Carolina. Her feet rested on the ottoman, and she held a snifter of brandy.
“Well, Mrs. Eggers, taking a little rest, are we?” He pointed to the decanter on the table beside her chair. “That looks to be just the thing. I think I’ll join you.” He crossed to the cabinet, took down another snifter, and poured himself a drink.
“I hope you don’t mind me helping myself to your fine liquor, Doctor,” the woman said.
“No, not at all.” Chester knew Mrs. Eggers drank, but he’d never noticed his liquor supply diminishing, so he suspected she kept private libations in her room. It didn’t matter to him what she did. She was a terrible employee, but that wasn’t due to strong drink.
He lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said.
Mrs. Eggers nodded and said, “Same to you.” She took a drink, staring at him over the rim of the glass as she did. “You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you, Doctor?”
“Yes, very,” he said.
Every morning after breakfast, Mrs. Eggers walked to the post office for the mail. Today’s was on the writing table in the corner. Chester thumbed through the letters as he spoke. “So what’s on the menu this evening, Mrs. Eggers? I’m famished.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said.
Chester glanced at the wall clock. “You haven’t decided?” He assumed she was making a joke—although she never joked—and he punctuated his question with a quick laugh of disbelief.
“That’s right.” She snuggled herself down deeper into the easy chair. “For you, I’m thinking crow.”
Chester leveled his gaze at the woman, and for a long moment their eyes held. “What are you saying, Mrs. Eggers?”
“I’m saying you made a terrible mistake today, young doctor. You were thinking dumb old Mrs. Eggers was too dim-witted to know what you were up to, but you had better give your thinking a second thought; that’s what I say.” She took another long pull of the brandy.
“What the devil are you talking about, woman? Put that glass down.”
She lowered the glass and a snarl curled her lips. “Don’t you take that tone with me,” she said. Her feet came off the ottoman, and she sat forward in the chair. “You abortionist.”
When Chester didn’t respond, Mrs. Eggers leaned back in the chair and replaced her feet on the ottoman. She took a dainty sip of the brandy and blotted her lips with a fingertip. “You scraped that little tramp’s baby out of her today, and you thought no one would be the wiser. Well, sir, there’s laws against that sort of thing. Laws with harsh penalties, too, I expect.”
Still Chester said nothing, but he crossed to another chair and sat down.
“I don’t reckon a fellow with your fine sensibilities would fare too well in the state penitentiary. The majority of the folks who populate that institution aren’t prone to gentlemanly behavior.” She smiled and replenished her snifter. “I doubt the warden is one to let you have all your books and little gadgets in your cell, either. Yes, sir, your manner of living is apt to go through some serious changes real soon.”
Chester set his glass down and cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “it sounds as though you’ve come up with some sort of plan, Mrs. Eggers, in the time you’ve spent not cooking my supper.”
“That’s right,” she answered, “I have. Being an honest citizen, Doctor, it pains me to have heinous crimes and criminal activities taking place in the house in which I lay my head every night. I feel it’s my duty to inform the county prosecutor of your misdeeds. My guess is he would like nothing better than to get his hooks into you, you working against him the way you did in his last election and all.”
“I imagine you’re right about that,” Chester admitted. “Earl Anderson has no fondness for me. That’s for sure.”
“Hate for you is what I hear,” Mrs. Eggers offered with a smirk.
“So, let me guess, you have some idea as to how we might avoid involving Mr. Anderson in all of this. Am I right?”
“You’re a regular mind-reader, aren’t you, Doctor?”
“No clairvoyance needed to read your mind, Mrs. Eggers. What is it you want?”
“A sum of money would do nicely,” she said. “A sum of money, and I’ll be on my way, never to trouble you again.”
“What sum were you thinking?”
“Ten thousand dollars is nice and round, isn’t it?” Like a coy girl, she cast him an innocent smile.
“Yes, it is. All those zeroes make it very round, indeed.”
She finished off the last of her brandy, set the snifter aside, and stood. “So ten thousand is what it will be,” she said, her innocence gone. “Ten thousand dollars cash money, or I fix it so you go to prison. Those are your choices, Doctor.” She spat out his title.
Chester slapped the palms of both hands down onto his knees and pushed himself up. “Well, Mrs. Eggers,” he said, “it appears you have me.”
“I’ll say I do.” She waggled a finger at him. “You figured me for a fool, and that’s where you went wrong.”
“I expect you’re right about that,” Chester agreed. He dug his right hand into his trousers’ pocket and pulled out a medium-sized wad of bills. He peeled a ten-dollar note from the outer fold, crossed the room, and handed it to her.
Mrs. Eggers took the bill and looked at it as though she’d never seen one before. “What’s this?” she asked.
“I’m not positive,” Chester said, “but I believe a decent room at the Glendale House goes for about three dollars a night.” He took her gently by the upper arm and led her out of the parlor, through the foyer, and to the front door. “Ten dollars should be more than enough to see you through till tomorrow. I’ll have your things packed and brought to you in the morning. I’ll also figure what salary you have coming and send that along as well, plus two weeks’ severance.” He gave her an easy nudge across the threshold onto the front porch. “Good-bye,” he said.
The woman’s mouth was moving, but no sounds came out.
He started to close the door but stopped himself. “By the way, Mrs. Eggers,” he added with a smile, “I’d suggest you not use me as a reference.”
She was staring at him, her mouth agape, as he pushed the door closed.