I knocked and Solana appeared from the hallway a moment later. A quick glance showed that the red-rimmed envelope was still in the box and I left it where it was. Ordinarily I’d have plucked it out and handed it over with a quick explanation, but given her paranoia, if I made reference to it, she’d think I was spying on her, which of course I was.
When she opened the door, I held up the container. “I made a big pot of soup and thought Gus might enjoy some.”
Solana’s demeanor was less than welcoming. She took the container, murmured a thank-you, and was on the verge of closing the door when I spoke up in haste, “How’s he doing?”
I got the dark flat stare, but she seemed to reconsider the urge to snub me. She dropped her gaze. “He’s napping right now. He had a rough night. His shoulder’s bothering him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Henry talked to him yesterday and he was under the impression Gus was doing better.”
“Visitors tire him. You might mention it to Mr. Pitts. He stayed longer than he should have. By the time I got here at three, Mr. Vronsky’d taken to his bed. He dozed much of the day, which is why he slept so poorly last night. He’s like a baby with his days and nights mixed up.”
“I wonder if his doctor would have something to suggest.”
“He has an appointment Friday. I intend to mention it,” she said. “Was there something else?”
“Well, yes. I’m on my way to the market and wondered if you needed anything?”
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m going anyway and I’d be happy to help. I can even sit with Gus if you’d prefer to go yourself.”
Solana ignored that offer. “If you’ll wait here, I have a thing or two you could pick up.”
“Sure.” I’d invented the supermarket errand on the spot, desperate to prolong the contact. She was like the keeper at the gate. You couldn’t get to Gus unless you went through her.
I watched her move into the kitchen, where she set the soup container on the counter and then vanished, probably finding pen and paper. I stepped into the living room and glanced at Gus’s desk. The cubbyhole that had held his bills was empty, but the passbooks for his two savings accounts were still where I’d seen them before. It looked like his checkbook was wedged in there as well. I was panting to scrutinize his finances, at the very least making sure his bills were being paid. I shot a glance at the kitchen door. No sign of Solana. If I’d acted right then, I might have had my way. As it was, my hesitation cost me the opportunity. Solana appeared two beats later, her purse under her arm. The list she gave me was short, a few items scribbled on a piece of scratch paper. I watched her open her wallet and remove a twenty-dollar bill that she held out to me.
“Place looks better with that old ratty carpet gone,” I said, as though I’d spent the time she’d been gone admiring her latest handiwork instead of plotting to steal Gus’s bankbooks. I was kicking myself. In seconds I could have crossed the room and had the records in hand.
“I do what I can. Ms. Oberlin tells me you and Mr. Pitts did a cleaning before she arrived.”
“It didn’t amount to much. A lick and a promise, as my aunt used to say. Is this it?” I paused and glanced at the list. Carrots, onions, mushroom broth, turnips, a rutabaga, and new potatoes. Nutritious, wholesome.
“I promised Mr. Vronsky some fresh vegetable soup. His appetite’s been off and it’s the only thing he’ll eat. Meat of any kind makes him nauseous.”
I could feel my cheeks tint. “I guess I should have asked first. The soup’s chicken with rice.”
“Maybe when he’s feeling better.”
She moved closer, essentially walking me toward the door. She might as well have put a hand on my arm and marched me out.
I took my time at the grocery store, pretending I was shopping for myself as well as Gus. I didn’t know what a rutabaga looked like, so after a frustrating search, I had to consult with the clerk in produce. He handed me a big gnarly vegetable like a bloated potato with a waxy skin and a few green leaves growing out one end. “Are you serious?”
He smiled. “You’ve heard of neeps and tatties? That’s a neep; also called a swede. The Germans survived on those in the winter of 1916 to 1917.”
“Who’da thunk?”
I returned to my car and headed for home. As I rounded the corner from Bay onto Albanil, I saw the waste-management company had picked up the Dumpster and was hauling it away. I parked in the empty stretch of curb and went up Gus’s porch steps with Solana’s groceries. To thwart me, she accepted the plastic sack and change from the twenty, then thanked me without inviting me inside. How exasperating! Now I’d have to come up with a fresh excuse to get in.
20
Wednesday, when I came home for lunch, I found Mrs. Dell standing on my porch in her full-length mink coat, holding the brown paper bag containing her Meals on Wheels delivery. “Hi, Mrs. Dell. How are you?”
“Not well. I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“Mr. Vronsky’s back door is locked and there’s a note taped to the glass saying he won’t be needing our services. Did he say anything to you?”
“I haven’t talked to him, but it does seem odd. The man has to eat.”
“If the food wasn’t to his liking, I wish he’d mentioned it. We’re happy to make adjustments if he has a problem.”
“You didn’t talk to him?”
“I tried. I knocked on the door as loudly as I could. I know he has trouble hearing and I didn’t want to leave if he was already hobbling down the hall. Instead, that nurse of his appeared. I could tell she didn’t want to talk, but she finally opened the door. She told me he’s refusing to eat and she doesn’t want the food to go to waste. Her attitude was very close to rude.”
“She canceled Meals on Wheels?”
“She said Mr. Vronsky was losing weight. She took him to the doctor to have his shoulder checked and sure enough, he’s down six pounds. The doctor was alarmed. She acted like it was my fault.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
“Please. This has never happened to me. I feel terrible thinking it was something I did.”
As soon as she’d left, I put a call through to Melanie in New York. As usual, I didn’t speak to a live human being. I left a message and she returned the call at 3:00 California time when she got home from work. I was in the office by then, but I set aside the report I was typing and told her about my conversation with Mrs. Dell. I thought she’d be startled about Meals on Wheels. Instead, she was irritated.
“And that’s why you called? I know all this stuff. Uncle Gus has been griping about the food for weeks. At first Solana didn’t pay much attention because she thought he was just being ornery. You know how much he loves to complain.”
Having observed the trait myself, I couldn’t argue the point. “What’s he going to do about meals?”
“She says she can handle them. She offered to cook for him when she first came to work, but I thought it was too much to ask when she was already taking on his medical care. Now, I don’t know. I’m leaning in that direction, at least until his appetite returns. Really, I can’t see a downside, can you?”
“Melanie, don’t you see what’s going on here? She’s building a wall around the guy, cutting off access.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, her tone skeptical.
“Well, I do. All he does is sleep and that can’t be good for him. Henry and I go over there, but he’s quote-unquote ‘indisposed’ or ‘he doesn’t feel like company.’ There’s always some excuse. When Henry did manage a visit, she claimed Gus was so debilitated afterward, he had to take to his bed.”