Roberta, Woman of Mystery
“Nice write-up in the paper,” Dot Morrison said when she stopped by Roberta and Daphne’s table at Pancake Haus to say hi.
“Thank you,” Roberta said, lining up the salt and pepper shakers. It had been a nice write-up, and sweet of Muriel to think of her.
“When are they going to do one on you?” Daphne asked.
“Next week,” Dot said. “Looks like they’re writing up all us old-timers first.”
Old-timer. Sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that Roberta had arrived in town. Back then, Icicle Falls had been transforming itself from a struggling town on the verge of extinction to an Alpine village. The place was so full of hope you could almost taste it. Roberta had, and that was why she’d decided to settle here. She’d needed a good dose of hope. And a job.
She’d gone into this very restaurant when she hit town. Back then, before Dot had come to Icicle Falls and taken over the place, it had been nothing more than a greasy spoon catering to truckers and travelers crossing the pass, but to her it had felt like an oasis.
1961
Roberta got off the bus in front of the café and went inside. Summer was coming early to the mountain town of Icicle Falls and it was a relief to get inside and escape the heat. She ordered a cup of coffee that tasted like battery acid and a fried egg that upset her stomach, still delicate so early in her pregnancy. The toast that came with it, once she’d scraped off the burned part, helped with the queasiness.
“Honey, you look done in,” said her waitress. The woman appeared to be the same age as Roberta’s mother. Her hair was what Mother would have labeled “bottle blond,” and the wrinkles around her mouth, along with the faint whiff of smoke coming off her, proclaimed her a smoker.
“I’m a little tired,” Roberta admitted.
“We got a motel on the other side of town,” said the waitress. “Nothing to write home about but it’s clean.”
Roberta couldn’t afford a motel. She nodded and thanked the woman anyway.
“Course, pretty soon we’ll have more going up, fancy ones like you’d see in Switzerland or Germany. This town is making some big changes. This time next year, it’ll really look like something.” She proceeded to tell Roberta all the plans in the works for putting Icicle Falls on the map. “My husband, Fred, and me, we’re saving up to build ourselves a hamburger place. To pass on to the kids, you know?”
Roberta had nothing to pass on to her child.
No, she corrected herself. She had love. This baby would be well loved and well cared for.
If she could find a job.
And a place to stay. But her money supply was dwindling and she couldn’t spend it on motel rooms. “Is there anyone in town who takes in boarders?” she asked.
Before the waitress could answer, someone new walked in, a pretty woman with brown hair wearing a white blouse and pedal pushers. She had an equally pretty little daughter with chestnut curls. The daughter stared at Roberta curiously as they approached the table.
She supposed she’d stare at herself, too, and wonder what someone her age was doing, traveling all alone. Soon she’d be showing, and with no wedding ring people would really stare. They’d do more than stare if they knew she was only seventeen. Well, she’d be eighteen in two months. Then she’d be an adult and no one could force her to do anything. She tried not to think about what a lonely birthday it would be.
“Hi, Flo,” said the woman.
“Hi, Betty,” the waitress said. “How’s the cleanup going?”
“Great. The men have hauled those dead cars and car parts off for old Billy. And that’s the last eyesore gone.”
The waitress nodded approvingly. Then, remembering Roberta, said, “This young lady’s looking for a place to stay. Do you know of anything?”
“Sarah Shepherd’s taking in boarders,” the newcomer named Betty replied. She turned to Roberta and introduced herself. “And this is my daughter, Muriel.”
“Hi, Muriel.” Roberta smiled and Muriel said a polite hello in return.
“So you’re new in town?” Betty asked.
Roberta nodded.
“Where you from, dear?” asked Flo the waitress.
“California,” Roberta lied.
Flo let out a low whistle. “You’re a ways from home.”
“I needed to make a new start,” Roberta said. That was no lie. “I’m a widow.”
“A widow,” echoed Flo. “And you so young!”
“My husband was killed in a car accident.”
“Oh, how sad,” Betty said. “I’m very sorry.”
Roberta murmured her thanks. “This seems to be a nice town,” she ventured.
“You could do a lot worse than settle here,” Flo told her.
“Hey, Flo,” called a husky man seated a couple of tables down. “Are you gonna take my order or leave me here to starve?”
“You could live off that fat belly of yours for days, Hal,” Flo retorted. She rolled her eyes. “Guess I’d better go take his order,” she said and left.
“Mind if I join you?” Betty asked. Before Roberta could answer, she slid into the bench on the other side of the booth, her daughter following suit. “When did you lose your husband?”
“It’s been…a while.” Roberta could feel her cheeks warming. How many questions was this woman going to ask?
“I can’t imagine losing a husband at such a young age,” Betty said, shaking her head. “I hope he left you well provided for?”
“I’m afraid not,” Roberta said. “We hadn’t been married very long,” she improvised. They hadn’t been married at all, but that wasn’t something she was going to share with a stranger. It wasn’t something she was going to share with anyone. Ever.
“Do you know if anyone in town is hiring?” she hurried on. If no one was, there was no point in staying. She’d have to keep moving on. Where, she wasn’t sure. When she’d first hit the road, all she’d wanted to do was put as much distance between herself and Seattle as she could. Now she realized she should have planned more carefully.
Except there hadn’t been time to plan.
Across the table from her Betty was looking sympathetic. “I hear they need a teller over at the bank. My husband and the manager are friends. I’d be happy to put in a word for you.”
“But you don’t know me.” For all this woman knew, Roberta could be a con artist. In a way she was.
“I’m pretty good at sizing people up. You seem like an honest young woman.”
She was anything but.
“What do you think, Muriel?” Betty asked, smiling at the girl.
“I think she’s pretty,” Muriel said, then blushed.
“Thank you,” Roberta murmured. Being pretty wasn’t always an advantage. Sometimes it got a girl in trouble. “I’m a hard worker,” she said to Betty. Not that she’d ever had any job besides babysitting. But she’d work hard for whoever hired her.
“I’m sure you are,” Betty said kindly. “I tell you what. How about after breakfast I take you down to the bank and introduce you to Howard Mangle, the manager? Then I can show you where the Shepherds live.”
The woman’s generosity was almost too much. Roberta felt tears flooding her eyes. “You’re very kind.”
Betty cocked her head and studied Roberta in a way that had her cheeks heating again. “I suspect you’re a woman in need of a little kindness right now.”
* * *
If Betty had guessed Roberta’s real story, she never let on. Instead, she’d taken Roberta under her wing and helped her get settled in town. Roberta had spent many a Sunday at Betty’s house, enjoying dinner with her family. Betty and her husband, Joe, had helped Roberta move when, a few years later, she’d found her Victorian. Roberta had watched Muriel grow up and had been a regular customer of Sweet Dreams Chocolates ever since the day she got her job at the bank and splurged on a box of chocolate-covered cherries. She’d met new friends and made something of herself. Staying in Icicle Falls had turned out to be a good decision.
Maybe it would be for Daphne, too. Maybe here Daphne would finally get inspired to do more with her life. Open a shop, live up to her name and become a writer like Daphne du Maurier. Or Muriel. Something. Anything. So far all she’d been inspired to do was mope around the house.
“I hear you’re back to stay,” Dot said to Daphne.
“I’ve sure had enough of Seattle,” Daphne replied.
“Well, I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out, kiddo,” Dot said. “But sometimes a woman is better off on her own. Look how well your mom and I have done.”
Daphne heaved a huge sigh. “You’re probably right. I don’t seem to do very well at picking men.”
“It’s hard to pick a good one when so many of the ones hanging on the branch are rotten,” Dot said.
Daphne pushed back a lock of blond hair. “I suppose there are still some good men out there. I’ve just never been able to find one.”
My poor daughter, Roberta thought. Where did I go wrong? Daphne should have been happily married. And successful. But here she was, rejected, dejected and living with her mother.
“Muriel sure knows how to find the good ones,” Dot said. “In fact, you should talk to her daughter. Cecily used to be a matchmaker. Maybe she’ll have some ideas for you.”
“Like how to murder my husband?”
Roberta frowned at her, but Dot chuckled. “Things’ll work out. They always do.”
“Daphne!” Roberta scolded as Dot moved on to greet her other customers.
“Sorry,” Daphne said in an unrepentant voice, “but I really could murder him. Stake him out in the sun covered with honey and let the ants have at him.”
“There’s an appetizing image,” Roberta said in disgust. “Although I must admit, even that’s better than he deserves.” She’d never say it publicly, but she wouldn’t mind getting a chance to put her hands around Mitchell’s throat.
“Every time I think of him and that woman I want to…” Daphne crumpled her paper napkin.
Roberta reached across the table and patted her arm. “He didn’t deserve you, dear. You’re well rid of him.”
Daphne’s eyes filled with tears. “How could he do this to me?”
Quite easily, it seemed. But since that was obviously a rhetorical question, Roberta kept her answer to herself. She gave her daughter’s arm another encouraging pat. “We’re not going to waste any more energy talking about him. Instead, we’ll focus on you. We need to come up with a plan for what you’re going to do next. You can’t just mope around the house all day.”
“I don’t want to mope. Let me help with the next wedding.”
“There’s really nothing left to do,” Roberta said. “Everything’s under control.”
Daphne looked at her, reproach in her eyes. “You don’t want me to help.”
Yes, that was part of it.
“You should let me,” Daphne urged. “You may as well plug me in now. You’ve got bunion surgery coming up in May. You’ll need the extra help.”
She probably would. She’d planned to delegate more work to Lila. “Darling, you’re going to be busy with your divorce.”
“Not that busy.”
“Well, then, you should be busy job-hunting. You don’t want to work on weddings, not in your present state of mind.”
“I want to help you. I want to be useful.”
“You’re being useful.” Daphne had cleaned the whole house the day before, even transferred her dirty breakfast dishes from the sink to the dishwasher without being nagged.
“I could do more if you’d let me. If you’d believe in me,” Daphne added softly.
Was that what Daphne thought? That she didn’t believe in her? If she hadn’t believed in her daughter, why would she have wasted her breath all these years suggesting things Daphne could do to improve her life?
“I’m fifty-three and you still don’t see me as anything but a failure,” Daphne said.
“That’s not true.” Except it was. Oh, dear.
The waitress arrived to take their orders, ending the conversation for the moment. Roberta found she didn’t have much of an appetite. “Coffee, please,” she said.
Why did everything have to be so difficult between mothers and daughters? Or was it just her and Daphne?
Maybe it was just her. She was always encouraging Daphne to try more, do more, be more, but whenever Daphne offered to help with the business, Roberta put her off.
Daphne wanted Roberta to be proud of her, possibly even more than Roberta did. She needed to give her daughter a chance to earn that pride, something Roberta’s mother had never done for her.
“Would you like to assist with setup for the next wedding?” she asked after their waitress left. There was a task Daphne could manage just fine.
“I’d be happy to,” Daphne said and smiled.
Roberta smiled, too. It wasn’t too late to make some changes. Daphne needed to feel useful, and Roberta could use the extra help. Really, she was a lucky woman to have such a sweet daughter who wanted to be part of her life. This could be a win-win situation.
Or a disaster.