Sweeter Than Wine (47 page)

After a long moment, Tati looked away first.

"Very well," Tati said icily, struggling to her feet. She addressed Dr. Stillman. "I
will be at the Swiss Hotel. You must 'phone me the moment my grandson wakes
up." She swept past Dr. Stillman, the very portrait of outraged dignity.

Dr. Stillman relaxed when she was gone. "Well, she's quite a battle-ax, isn't
she?"

Alice struggled not to smile. She had won--this round.

* * *

The train idled at a station, waiting for more passengers. Siegfried sat
tucked into a narrow seat, his throbbing right arm crowded painfully into the side of
the car. He searched into the misty gray rain outside the window for a familiar
face, but there was no one he knew.

A little girl in a
schlumpfkapf
waved at him, but her grandmother
angrily jerked her away. Rank after rank of gray-uniformed soldiers waited at
attention for their proper transports, with neighbors and townspeople waving flags
and throwing streamers at them.

Nobody waited for him. Nobody came for him.

Where is Alice? Siegfried wondered.
And if I saw her, would she
wave to me, or turn away?

He rested his forehead against cold, damp glass and coughed, each breath
a claw ripping apart his lungs.

Alice...

* * *

Alice held Siegfried's unmoving hand for an hour, until she couldn't sit quietly
any longer. There was no change in him. He coughed, he struggled to breathe, he
didn't wake. She did her share of bargaining with God in that hour, but none of the
offerings she was prepared to make seemed to catch the divine fancy. Siegfried
didn't wake.

She thanked the doctor and his wife again for caring for Siegfried, and
returned to the hotel to await her mother's arrival. She made some more telephone
calls: to the telephone company, ordering an emergency line installed in the
foreman's cottage at Montclair, and to the Sheriff's office, to try to get some news
about what was happening at Montclair.

Sheriff Albertson assured her that the fire was put out, that the damage was
being assessed by her insurance agent, that Maria was being taken care of by her
mother, and that Hugh was safely behind bars, even if he was refusing to say a
word about what had happened. He seemed surprised to learn that Hugh had
been the one to rescue Siegfried and herself. He was even more surprised when
she mentioned that she was offering her own lawyer to defend him.

"Mrs. Verdacchia saw the whole thing, ma'am. We got a short statement from
her last night. Mr. Roye definitely killed her husband."

Alice thanked him politely, and rang off. But she still didn't believe him. She
didn't know
what
Maria had seen, but she had no doubt that whatever had
happened, it hadn't been Hugh Roye cold-bloodedly ending Peter's life. Peter had
been so drunk. Maybe they fought--maybe it was an accident--

But what was Hugh doing at Montclair, at that time of night?

She didn't know, yet. But she would find out. And tell Siegfried, when he woke
up.
Please God, let him wake up.

She was standing in the hotel doorway, peering anxiously down the street
when Gertie and George Breitenbach parked their Ford in front of the hotel.

"Mrs. Rodernwiller!"

She turned, astonished, and saw that Gertie was waving at her. "Alice!"

Bewildered, Alice waited. She couldn't imagine what Gertie and George
wanted, or why they were willing to speak to her in public, in light of Alice's earlier
revelation.

"We've taken up a collection for you and your husband, dear," Gertie said, as
she got out of the car. George lifted a small box from the back seat. "But we didn't
know where to bring it, until I realized you were making all your calls from here."
As she approached Alice, she held out an envelope.

They had collected for
her
? Tears pricked Alice's eyes as she opened
the flap and saw the bills and coins inside. "Oh--oh, thank you, Mrs. Breitenbach!"
Then she burst into tears.

Gertie handed her a handkerchief, and patted her back comfortingly until Alice
regained control of herself, then she asked, "And how is Mr. Rodernwiller doing?
We're all praying for him."

"There's been no change in his condition," Alice reported. "Ta--I mean, Mrs.
Roye, came up from the City." She tried to sound casual about it, but her true
feelings must have shown.

"Don't let Siegfried's grandma scare you off," George advised as he changed
the grip on his box. "I think her bark is a lot worse than her bite."

"She used to live at Montclair years ago," Gertie confided as George took the
box into the hotel for the bellman to carry to Alice's room. "But we never got to
know her very well." She shrugged. "She was pleasant enough, but I always had
the feeling that she thought we were all hicks. Even though you're from San
Francisco, too, Alice, we never got that feeling from you."

To Alice's surprise, Gertie gave her a quick hug. "If you need anything, you let
us know."

The warm feeling in Alice's chest evaporated and she felt like sinking into the
sidewalk when she saw, over Gertie's shoulder, the long, sleek, Buick touring car
pull up in front of them. She watched her mother get out of the car at the same
time as George came out of the hotel. She couldn't miss his reaction to her,
either.

Florence Campbell O'Reilly was a fine-looking woman in her early forties,
discreetly rouged, her lustrous blonde hair daringly bobbed under a narrow-
brimmed brown velvet hat. Her clothes were expensively fashionable but
restrained--a long, narrow skirt with matching belted jacket cut from heavy
chocolate silk taffeta and trimmed with dark green ribbon, worn over an ivory silk
blouse. A tasseled drawstring purse, silk stockings and low-heeled pumps
completed the ensemble. She looked like any respectable City matron. Any
rich
matron.

"Alice?" Florence looked toward Alice, then came to an uncertain stop. "Baby
girl? Oh, your poor hair!"

Gertie let her go, and Alice was certain she was just going to collect George
and leave quietly, but instead, she turned around, took a step forward, and offered
her hand. "You must be our dear Alice's mother," she said with real welcome in
her voice. "I'm Gertrude Breitenbach, and this is my husband, George. We go to
church with Alice, and we're very fond of her."

Alice felt like sniffling again at this unexpected tribute. Her mother, slightly
baffled but very charming, shook hands graciously and responded, "How do you
do? I'm Florence...O'Reilly."

"Oh, but we mustn't keep you from your reunion. We just brought by the first of
a few things the parish is donating to help Alice and Siegfried get back on their
feet. Such a tragic fire! So nice to meet you. We hope to see you in church with
Alice on Sunday."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," George said, tipping his hat.

"Remember, you call me if you need
anything
, Alice," Gertie said, and
smiled. "All you need to do is pick up the 'phone."

Grateful beyond words, Alice smiled back at her, then found herself in her
mother's arms, her head on her mother's shoulder, the familiar spicy scent of
jasmine evoking a hundred childhood memories. Mama was shorter than Alice
remembered, but she was still as soft and warm.

Alice had often wondered what she would feel if she ever saw Mama again.
Shame? Loathing? Now she knew. It was overwhelming relief, the child's
confidence that everything would be all right now that her mother was here.

Florence held her tightly, cheek laid against Alice's hair, stroking her
shoulders, her back. "Baby girl, my little Alice blue, you're all right--you're safe,"
Florence murmured, over and over again, as they rocked gently back and forth, in
the street, visible to anybody.

And Alice didn't care.

* * *

After Florence checked into the hotel, she dragged Alice into the deserted
dining room, and sat her down to a late--and very needed--dinner.

There, over warm bread rolls, milky Italian coffee, and cheese-stuffed ravioli in
tomato sauce, Alice confessed, "I never knew about your promise. I thought you
didn't want me any more, because, well--it might interfere. With your
business."

"Oh, no!" Florence exclaimed. "It wasn't like that at all! Your father and me, we
wanted you to grow up in better circumstances. He said it would be for the best,
and I knew it was. But I thought about you all the time." Florence gave a forced-
sounding chuckle. "I must be the only woman in San Francisco with a subscription
to that two-cent Sonoma paper of yours. I wanted to know about where you lived,
and what you were doing. I read all about your wedding--"

"Mama," the words stuck in her throat. "All those years I never contacted you--
I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, that's all right. I understand."

"But you're my mother. It was wrong of me! I've spent so much time worrying
what people would think."

"It's what you have to do, baby girl, to get along in this world."

"Well, the world can get along with
us
, for now on!" Alice said, wiping up
the last of the delicious sauce with a piece of bread. She'd been as hungry as
Siegfried used to get...

"Alice?"

"I was just thinking about--"

"You love him a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, and I shouldn't! He lied to me--over and over again. He lied about his
wartime service, and he lied about a contract he said he got and he didn't, and he-
-" but she couldn't think of another lie that Siegfried had told. He hadn't even
actually lied about his service, just not spoken of it until she had asked about it.
And the contract: Mr. Bundschu had said,
he lied to you, when you wanted to
switch to prunes earlier this summer, because he was scared of where he would
go. Not much call for winemakers, these days.

He had been afraid, because she wanted to send him away. She had brought
it all on herself.

She covered her eyes with one hand.

Her other hand was taken in a warm, maternal grip. "We'll go see how he's
doing right now, honey. Waiter!" Florence paid the tab and drove Alice the short
distance to Dr. Stillman's.

They were both surprised to see Tati at Siegfried's bedside.

Tati was even more shocked at the sight of Florence. "Alice, what is
that
woman
doing here?"

"This is my mother, Mrs. Patrick O'Reilly," Alice said, at her most dignified.

"So pleased to meet you, in person, at last," Florence said with a small smile
and perfect diction. "I've heard so much about you, over the years."

Tati's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Finally she looked at
Alice. "I refuse to stay in the same room with her. I'm warning you!"

"That's your choice, Mrs. Roye. But I should warn you as well: you may have
to vacate a fair number of rooms from now on."

Tati stood up, pale and trembling. "Well, Alice, if this is the thanks I get for all
the things I've done for you--"

"Alice, honey. You two don't need to quarrel over me. I have a number of
errands I have to run. I can come back later to pick you up." Florence nodded
politely to Tati, who continued to ignore her completely. "I'll be back by supper
time. 'Bye!" And she was out the door.

"--of all the unmitigated gall!" Tati was muttering. "How dare you bring that
creature here!"

"She's the grandmother of the Montclair heir." Alice smiled grimly at Tati. "Do
try to accustom yourself."

"I won't have it!"

Siegfried's raspy breathing stopped, and he erupted in a paroxysm of
coughing. Alice and Tati, on either side of him, held him up as best they could, and
kept him from falling out of the narrow bed. When his fit had subsided, Tati wiped
his face and Alice his mouth, and they settled him as comfortably as possible.

Alice tried to wake him up. "Siegfried! Siegfried!" But he remained
unconscious.

Tati found her chair again, and sat, pale and very ill-at-ease.

Alice looked over the senseless body of her husband and saw a frail,
frightened old woman staring at the only family she had left. "Are we going to
argue over Siegfried, Mrs. Roye--Tati--or will you pray for him with me?"

"I--" Tati dashed tears from the corner of her eye, and bowed her head. "Let us
pray."

They had time for half a Novena before Alice's mother returned, the smooth
noise of her big car alerting them. She was waiting in the parlor when Alice found
her.

"No change," Alice reported.

Florence looked up from her novel, and smiled sympathetically. "Is Mrs. Roye
still here?"

Alice nodded. "We came to an understanding, I think. She won't insult you
anymore."

Florence's smile was a bit lopsided. "It must be hard for her. I've been doing
business with the Royes for twenty-odd years--paid for plenty of her hats, I
imagine--but she's never had to acknowledge me before. Isn't it interesting the
way the world turns?"

The doctor appeared in the doorway. "Mrs. Rodernwiller, we'll be sure to call
you if there's any change at all. You should get a good night's rest, yourself."

"Thank you, I will," Alice promised. "May I introduce my mother, Mrs. Patrick
O'Reilly?"

Dr. Stillman nodded politely. "We met earlier, actually. Mrs. O'Reilly, I trust you
will take good care of your daughter. I certainly don't want her as a patient here--at
least not for another five months!" They all smiled dutifully, and Alice and Florence
took their leave.

"Mrs. Siegfried Rodernwiller," Florence rolled the syllables around in her
mouth as they walked to her car. "That's quite a mouthful."

Alice laughed despite herself.

* * *

When they came to the hotel room after a light supper (
with
wine,
despite the Prohibition) Alice was astonished to see the number of parcels and
clothing bags strewn about the modest furnishings. "What have you done, Mama?"
she said, half-laughing, half inclined to cry again.