Without being asked, but still observed by the sniffling Ramona, Tyler then proceeded to mow the lawn with an old push mower he found in the toolshed. He quite enjoyed the task, despite the heat of the day, and was encouraged by Ramona’s praise to believe it might be the first of many tasks she would require of him. Painting the house, for instance, were Ramona agreeable, could take weeks, while even from the cracked cement driveway he could spot traces of rust on the narrow wrought-iron balcony adorning the window of a room high up under the gable, possibly an attic bedroom which Tyler thought would be just right for him.
“You’ve worked up quite a sweat,” said Ramona as Tyler joined her in the big old kitchen with its outdated appliances. “Why not take a refreshing shower? I’m so lucky Daddy installed a downstairs bathroom when Mama could no longer manage the stairs, as I can’t now. While you’re doing that, I’ll brew us a nice pot of tea. Do you like tuna fish sandwiches?”
Over tea and sandwiches in the far-from-spotless kitchen Tyler offered discreet suggestions for the improvements he had in mind, undismayed by Ramona’s halfhearted enthusiasm. “All that takes m-o-n-e-y, my dear boy. One can’t live on capital forever. The money Daddy left has dwindled nearly to the point of extinction.”
“I wouldn’t ask for money,” said Tyler. “I’d work just for a roof over my head. Anything to get out of that crummy rooming house.”
“We shall see. For now, it would be a blessing if only you’d run errands for me and do a bit of tidying up, things like that, you know.”
Tyler knew that for the time being he must be satisfied with this arrangement. He was soon as familiar with the house as if he’d lived there all his life. He liked especially the room in the attic, which was as commodious as the rooms on the floor below, with its dainty, somewhat rickety balcony overlooking the cracked cement driveway. It was sparsely furnished with a white-painted iron bed, a single lounge chair, and a pine chest of drawers on which stood an old-fashioned table lamp with a scenic glass shade and a photograph of a couple standing in front of the much smaller catalpa tree under which he had buried the silver-chest coffin. The woman was unmistakably a younger and slimmer Ramona Lerch; the man might have been the one in the snapshot in the blue leather wallet.
Tyler could imagine no room more to his liking. He’d be able to stand on the balcony at night and look up at the stars. He spoke of this room with wistful fondness to Ramona, who smiled quite as wistfully.
“Tell you a secret, dear. That was my special room as a child. My hideaway from the world.”
“Yes,” murmured Tyler dreamily, “that’s it. A Hideaway from the World.”
“I’ll tell you another thing. Mr. Chambers and I would often steal up there and... well, let’s say it stirs romantic memories.”
Romantic memories clearly tinged with bitterness, as Ramona thereupon poured into Tyler’s ear the story of herself and Mr. Chambers.
“He founded the Unionville Box and Label Works. Made a pot of money when he sold it to an outfit in Cincinnati. I was only nineteen when I went to work for him. He always said I was his First Little Girl. First in more ways than one, if you catch my meaning. He’d never married and after Mama and Daddy died, we became even closer. Some people thought he was a dry old stick, all business, but he had another side. I gave him my heart. I cherished girlish hopes, long after girlhood was only a memory. He strung me along with promises I assumed were sincerely made. ‘You wait till I’ve sold the business,’ he was always telling me, ‘and then we’ll have a royal fling. We’ll travel around the world, we’ll do this and we’ll do that.’ Well, my dear, he sold the business and he did go around the world, but not with his First Little Girl. On one of his trips to Cincinnati he met a younger woman. Before you could say lechery treachery, it was ding-dong wedding bells. Farewell, Ramona. No more gazing at the stars in our little hideaway from the world.”
The story seemed a very sad one to Tyler. “I don’t think he’s a very nice man, treating you like that.”
“You know, dear, you’re right. He’s not a nice man. Leaving me high and dry after I’d devoted my best years to him.”
“How long’s it been since you saw him?” Tyler asked, helping himself to another sandwich.
“Would you believe it? Ten years. And then one day when I was feeling so blue I could have stuck my head in the oven, I yielded to a very foolish impulse. I wanted him to see with his own eyes what a wretched condition I was in. Not that he’d feel an ounce of shame, but just to see the look on his face. I wrote him a note asking him to meet me at the Golden Griddle Café just for old time’s sake. He used to love their blueberry waffles. We’d go there two or three times a week. I called a taxi, the same one that picked up my grocery order every week from Lovejoy’s Market. Let me tell you, it was a painful ordeal. And all for nothing. He never showed up. That was the day you found my wallet. So you see I tell a lie, it wasn’t all for nothing. The good Lord sent me you.”
A few days later Tyler arrived at the house to find Ramona in a mood of eager excitement. She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. “Put this in your pocket, Tyler. It’s a list of items I want you to pick up at Lovejoy’s and the liquor store. I told you about wishing Mr. Chambers could see me now. Well, so he will if he accepts my invitation to a little tea party. Tete-a-tete. Wifey not included. I shall phone him tonight.”
Tyler sensed more heartbreak ahead. “Are you sure he’ll come? I mean, after last time—”
“I’ll tell him I’ve something of great importance to tell him, something very much to his advantage. Curiosity, if nothing else, will do the trick, if I say it’s to his monetary advantage. Everything must be shipshape, my dear. He mustn’t think I’ve been living in a pigsty, not that everything isn’t a sight more tidy since you came to my aid.”
Within the hour Tyler had the front room, the kitchen, and the downstairs bath fit to receive the most censorious of ex-lovers. Wasted effort, most likely, as Tyler did not share Ramona’s confidence that she could lure Mr. Chambers to the house, not after he had avoided her so long and stood her up at the Golden Griddle.
On Sunday, as he explored parts of the countryside he’d never seen before, his mind kept reverting to Ramona’s pathetic yearning to win the sympathy of her long-lost love. Could she possibly expect to revive his romantic interest after so long an estrangement?
Arriving at the house on that Monday which was to prove as momentous as his finding the blue leather wallet, he was met by an extraordinary sight, a police cruiser parked in front of the entrance. The front door stood open, and as soon as he stepped inside Tyler was aware that something must be terribly wrong. In the living room Ramona, clutching a handkerchief to her bosom, slumped awkwardly on the sofa, quietly weeping. A uniformed police officer sat facing her on a chair drawn up close to the sobbing woman. He rose as Tyler entered the room.
Before he could speak, Ramona lifted her face and regarded Tyler with a look of piteous distress. “Oh, my dear boy, thank goodness you’re here.”
“Ramona? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
Ramona burst into fresh sobs. The policeman said, “Mr. Berlinghoff? I’m afraid Miss Lerch has suffered a great shock.”
“My God, what is it? What’s happened?”
“There’s been an accident,” said the officer. “A man — a Mr. Henry Chambers — was visiting Miss Lerch this afternoon. Apparently he had occasion to go upstairs and somehow fell from the balcony opening off one of the rooms, and was killed when he landed on the cement driveway below. Miss Lerch discovered what had happened and called nine-one-one. The body was removed less than an hour ago. Miss Lerch asked that I remain until you got here.”