Maggie staggered back a step. She hadn’t really expected to find anything, but here it was, a room at the end of this unused hallway with a light on inside.
It was a small room with a single window shrouded by heavy curtains. The light was coming from a small lamp on top of an old dresser. Several large pieces of furniture were shrouded under drop cloths covered in a thick layer of dust. Maggie scanned the room noting another door on the far wall, presumably leading to an adjoining room. Slowly she stepped inside, not sure what she was looking for but feeling as if she was on the verge of finding something important.
She approached one of the hulking masses of nondescript furniture pulling back the drop cloth and stirring up a cloud of dust. She coughed and fanned the clogged air until it cleared. When the dust settled and her eyes adjusted she realized that below the drop cloth was a baby crib.
Her heart was pounding with excitement as she stared down into the old crib and saw a tiny blanket with the name Jonathan embroidered on it. She reached out slowly, fearful that the aged blanket would crumble to dust at her touch. Just as her fingertips brushed the surface she heard a noise come from the next room. She pulled her hand back quickly. She held her breath as she stared at the door that connected this room to the next. She heard another sound, a scuffling noise. Could someone be in that room? Slowly she began to back away, trying not to make a sound.
The sound of the doorbell pierced the silence, ringing through the house with an ominous bellow. Maggie turned and fled down the hallway her mind racing with questions.
When she reached the landing she stopped to catch her breath. Her mind was overwhelmed with possibilities. She couldn’t focus them. The doorbell rang again. She took a deep, stabilizing breath before going down the stairs to answer the door.
She was too busy trying to process what she’d found that she hadn’t even stopped to wonder who could be at the door. When she opened it she nearly fainted.
“Margaret, my God look at you!”
“Mother?”
“When I first learned that my daughter was living on some plantation in Georgia I could scarcely believe it. But if someone had told me that I would find you here, barefoot in thrift store clothing I would have called them a bold faced liar. I can hardly believe my own eyes!”
Corrine Overton walked into the house as if she owned it. At her mother’s words Maggie looked down at her cut-off jean shorts and bare feet, shrinking inwardly. Why couldn’t she have arrived yesterday when Maggie had worn a nice dress for work? Her mother always had preferred her in a dress.
“Honestly, Margaret, what has come over you?” Corrine demanded.
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” Maggie practically whispered. The old argument was an instinctive reaction. She still hadn’t really accepted the fact that her mother was standing here.
“And you know that I don’t care for the way you’ve butchered your perfectly respectable name,” her mother countered.
It was surreal to be standing here with her mother whom she hadn’t spoken with in over six years and to be having the same old argument they’d had countless times throughout her youth.
“What are you doing here, Mother?” Maggie finally asked.
“I’ve come to take you home,” her mother replied with a tone that implied the reason for her presence should be obvious.
“Home?” Maggie felt breathless and slightly light headed.
“Look, you’ve had your little adventure, but it’s time to get your life back on track. Your father has a very nice young man for you to meet. We’ve arranged a dinner for this coming weekend. That will give us enough time to get you home and cleaned up.” Her mother reached for her hand and examined Maggie’s fingernails with disdain.
“I’m not leaving,” Maggie said, pulling her hand back. “I have responsibilities here. I’ve been paid to stay the length of the summer. I can’t just leave.”
“I’m well aware of the arrangement you made with Ms. Devereaux. I’m sure your father can deal with the termination of that agreement to everyone’s satisfaction. He knows how to handle her.”
The room started spinning. Maggie couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.
“I don’t understand,” Maggie whispered breathlessly.
Corrine Overton sighed with impatience. “Ms. Devereaux is the one who informed me that my own daughter had traipsed down to this little nowhere town to become a glorified housekeeper,” her mother spat the words at her.