The Hungry House (13 page)

"I'm
better. Well, a little better. Frank and Margaret got me to move into the house with them, so I could have some company."

John's eyes narrowed, and he looked thoughtful
. "Yes, some company," he muttered.

At that point, Edna
brought in a tray of two, tall glasses of ice water, with swirls of sliced lemon floating on the top. On the tray, she had placed a small bouquet of purple flowers with green centers in a cut glass vase.

"What are these beautiful flowers called?
" I asked.

"These are Hellebores
. They bloom year around." Edna answered. "I grabbed a few from the yard for the tray."

We
each took our waters along with a napkins and coasters proffered by Edna.

"I need to use the restroom." Margaret said to Edna.

"I'll show you where it is."

When they had left, John opened the French doors of the
sunroom and turned to me. "Come out with me and I'll show you the garden."

We
strolled for a while through a light mist before John spoke. "Vicky, I'm a little concerned about your situation."

I
finished a sip of my water said, "How so?"

John
indicated a bench, and after I sat down, he joined me. "I know you've going through a terrible time in your life, but watch your step with Frank. He isn't what he seems."

"Oh, I know he can get out of hand when he's had too much to drink."

John bent over with his elbows on his knees and stared down at his hands. Then he sat up to face me. "It's not just the drinking. There's a lot more to it than that. I've done some checking into Frank. He has a long history of abusing alcohol and cocaine. But, that's not the worst of it. He has a problem with developing fixations on women. It seems he doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'no.'"

"Well, I can believe that
. But, I think we've become friends. Sure, in the beginning, he just wanted to try to get me in the sack." I blushed. Why did I use the word "sack." "But, now we're friends, and I think he really cares about me."

"I'
m sure that's the case, then. Let's go back into the house, shall we?  The wind's picking up." John said.

"Do you mind if I sit here for a little while long
er?  It smells heavenly."

"No
--stay as long as you want." Frank headed back into the house and found Margaret in the kitchen chatting with Edna.

"Margaret, you live in the house with Frank, don't you?
" John asked.

"Yes
and don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on him."

"Will you promise to call
me right away, if either of you should ever need anything?"

"Yes
. I promise," Margaret, answered. "And, it's good to know you will be there for us."

"No matter what, even if I'm in LA, call me.
" John took out a business card and wrote on the back. "I've written Matt's cell phone number here. He answers or checks it constantly, and he always knows where I am. Keep this card in a safe place."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Frank, Margaret, and I settled into a routine. Frank hired a temp to handle most of the work I had previously done in the library's office, and I helped her when she had questions. I was not handling my grief well. I suffered from insomnia during the night, often waking up with a start at 3:00 a.m. unable to go back to sleep. Food sometimes seemed unappealing, and I was continually losing weight. Margaret tempted me with fattening desserts and milkshakes. I read during the evenings and when awake at night. I listened to all sorts of music.

Looking back on the situation later, I realized that Frank had intentionally drawn me into his world of privilege in order to isolate me. He gave me no responsibility and treated me like royalty. In my vulnerable and embittered  state, I welcomed his protection. I began to feel hostile toward Paul and my friends, because I unconsciously knew they would expect me to act like an adult. They would not cater to my every mood, as Frank did. As delusional as my attitude had become, I wanted no part of anyone but Frank.

Frank was beside himself that he could not get me into the Multnomah Athletic Club so the two of us could go there together. The membership lottery was closed, and guests were quite limited as to how many times they could accompany a member. He had written the board offering a sizable contribution to no avail. I joined Riverplace Athletic Club, so that I could work out five times a week, and swam in Frank's small indoor pool each day during the cold weather.

These activities
seemed to help me pass the time. It was an excuse to force myself out of the house. But, within a few hours of exercise, I would again feel depressed and anxious. I often spoke to Paul on the phone but did not feel well enough to go out on a date with him. Years later, I would look back with disbelief on this as a time when I had settled into a nightmarish cocoon of grief, isolation, and malaise, each day hardly differing from the next.

Every day, sometimes twice a day,
one of my friends called. They were all extremely concerned about my situation and the fact that I seldom left the house. Finally, Paul and my three friends arrived one day without calling first. They seemed alarmed to find that I was no longer living at the cottage and even more distressed to see my condition in person. I sat in the living room during the visit, hardly saying a word. I knew that I was thin and that dark circles ringed my eyes. Eventually, Margaret served soda, while they tried to interest me in small talk. With great difficulty, I tried to follow the conversation, but snippets of various nightmares and scenes from my mother's deathbed kept distracting me.

Finally, Betts spoke
. "Vicky, aren't you going to say
anything
?  How are you?"

I gathered all my strength and concentration to form an answer.
"Oh--. I am fine. Just fine. I'm sorry I have not come out with you people. I've just been very tired lately."

Paul spoke
. "When I call, you're even too tired to take a walk. You're going downhill, rather than getting better."

Jennifer's
face took on a very troubled look. She bent toward me sitting across the room. "Vicky, it's been a two months since your Mom died. Remember, you said you wanted to leave?  But, you're still here." They all watched me, anxious to hear my response

I
took a sip of my tea. My anxiety was becoming more than I could bear. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears I could barely think, and I felt out of breath, panicky.

Betts
took advantage of my silence. "You know, my parents would love to have you come and stay in our guest room. You could stay indefinitely. There's no reason for you to be here. And, you know I'd be there for you."

I
smiled. "You know, don't you, that I love you all?  I really do. But, Betts, you stay in the dorm at Reed College, even though it's right here in Portland, because you and your parents thought it would be good for you to live more independently. And, I remember you wanted to get out of the house. If I went to stay in your parent's guest room, you would feel obligated to come and check in on me, wouldn't you?  It would ruin your whole freshman year experience."

"I don't
care
about that. I'm worried about
you
." Beverly answered.

"But,
I
care." I spoke the words slowly and solemnly. "And, the other thing is that I don't know how long it will take me to recover. You're right. I'm not doing well. And, no matter what they say now, your parents would soon tire of me." I had to get out of the room. "Excuse me."

I
walked into the kitchen. Margaret was putting a pot roast with potatoes, carrots and onions into the oven for dinner. I sat down at the kitchen table, rested my head in my hands, and closed my eyes.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right?" Margaret asked.

"Margaret, my friends are wearing me out. Could you do me a huge favor and get them to leave?"

"Of course
, dear."

Margaret walked back into the living room
. "Thank you all, so much, for coming. Right now, Vicky needs to rest."

Margaret showed them to the door and opened it for them
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Her friends stoo
d for a moment in the entry hall, looking at each other in astonishment and then left.

"That was very strange.
" Jennifer said, as they walked to their car.

"We're going to have to figure out what do." Betts said.

###

Margaret was keenly aware
that Vicky's friends had valid concerns. Vicky was not going through the normal grief process but rather seemed to be stuck in a state of perpetual emotional pain and shock. And, because of love for her young friend, one fateful morning Margaret decided to mention to Frank that perhaps a visit to a counselor might be in order.

As usual, Margaret headed up the stairs at 11:00 a.m. carrying a silver tray on which sat
the newspaper, and warm croissants, along with a coffee pot filled with hot coffee.

Hoisting the tray on her hip to free a hand, she lightly knocked
on his bedroom door. "Morning coffee," she announced.

Hearing no answer, she entered to find Frank still sleeping.

She carefully tapped him on the shoulder, and he started awake
. "Good morning, Mr. Armstrong."

He got up and went into his bathroom, closing the door behind him, while Margaret turned on the television to the Bloomberg channel
. When he returned from the bathroom, she helped him put on his robe. Then, he got into bed, after which she open the legs of his tray and placed of it on his lap.

This was the
normal morning routine, and usually at this point she would leave, quietly closing the door behind her. Instead, she stood waiting.

"Is there something you need?
" Frank said this in a tone that indicated he truly hoped there was not.

"Yes
. I'm concerned about Vicky, and I wonder if you should send her to a counselor." A pause of a few beats elapsed.

"Well
--yes--that's an excellent idea Margaret. Give me a chance to wake up and think about it, and I'll take care of it later. Thank you." Margaret walked down the stairs with a smile on her face and a little more spring in her step.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Frank moved his tray to one side and placed a phone call to his brother's
personal secretary in Manhattan.

"Penny
. This is Frank Armstrong on the line. I wonder if you could do me a great favor. My housekeeper hasn't been on a vacation for a long time."

A few days later,
while Margaret was taking an afternoon tea break in the kitchen, Frank began his campaign to convince her that she needed to go on a vacation. In fact, she needed to go to Hawaii. While she was there enjoying the sites and the beach, she could visit her sister, who had retired there. Of course, Margaret's immediate response was that she did not want to leave Vicky.

"Don't worry about that
. I'll hire a companion for her. I just think this entire situation has been too much of a burden for you--way too much of a burden. And, I'm going to do something about it."

"But,
Vicky's the one who really needs a change of scenery. You should send her instead of me."

 
"Oh, you're absolutely right.  I'll tell you what--as soon as she's better and finished with her counseling, all three of us will go on a trip to Europe together, and you two can have some great times. How would you like that?"

"That would be great
. I'd have so much fun with Vicky--and you too, of course," she quickly added.

"But, how long of a vacation are you thinking of?" Margaret worriedly asked.

"Well, I thought maybe a week or two would do it, but I'll leave that part up to you."

She thought out loud
. "Okay. A week. I guess that would be all right. Can I check in on Vicky every day?"

"Of
course
! Call as often as you like. In fact, I encourage you to call."

In the ensuing days, Margaret vacillated between wanting to go and not wanting to go, but a week
later, she was on a plane to Honolulu.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Margaret checked into her ocean view suite at the Kahala Hotel on the island of Oahu feeling exhausted after the excitement of her flight and the ride from the airport on the hotel's shuttle. In fact, she had never before travelled outside Oregon, and she was still in a state of shock. She lay down on the bed and immediately went to sleep. When she awoke, it was 2:00 p.m., and her stomach was growling. After changing clothes and applying a little lipstick, she went down to the hotel bar and ordered a drink to calm her nerves. The bartender was a handsome young man whose tan increased the startling effect of his brilliant green eyes.

"Will I need a reservation to have lunch?"
she asked.

"Are you staying at the hotel, by any chance?"

"Yes, I am."

"What's your room number, please?"

Margaret couldn't remember and flushed with embarrassment as she dug in her purse for her room key card. Suddenly, she felt close to tears.

"
Hey, don't even worry about that. You're so sweet. Lots of patrons have me look up the number when they can't remember. Let me look it up for you. What's your name?"

She continued to dig
in her purse, and held up the key card like a prize, "Found it." She gave him the number, and he quickly moved to the phone.

"Would you like ocean front or inside dining?"

"Umm--ocean front." The weather was pleasant outside.

Her pina colada was just beginning to relax her, when a man came to si
t beside her at the bar. She glanced at him and judged him to be in his fifties, about her age.

Then, suddenly, he was talking to her
. "If you don't mind my asking, are you a frequent visitor to the Kahala?  I don't remember seeing you here before, and I've come for many years."

"This is my first time at the hotel."

He turned his whole body to face her. He was tanned and ruggedly handsome, with gray at his temples.

"Welcome, then
. You add a touch of class to the place," he said.

"Oh, come now.
" Margaret looked uncomfortable.

"I mean it
. A real woman--no fake body parts or shoveled on makeup. It's very refreshing. May I order you another one of those?"

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in that.
" In fact, Margaret, unused to the effects of alcohol, felt very attracted to the man. It frightened her and excited her at the same time.

The bartender stood in front of her.
"Your ocean front table is ready. Just head over to the restaurant, and the maitre de will seat you."

Again, the man next to h
er spoke. "Please, forgive me for intruding, but may I join you for dinner at your table?  My wife died eight months ago, and I'm all alone on this trip--never mind, it's too much to ask." He turned away from her and, looking down at his drink, began to stir it.

At this point in the conversation, Margaret
probably should have told the handsome man that she was happy to have met him and then proceeded alone to her table. But, the reason she usually put on such an unfriendly mask to strangers was that she had a big heart, a heart that had been broken. Because of the alcohol and the unfamiliar surroundings, she let down her guard and gave in to her natural kindness.

"Please, join me at my table
. It'll be nice to have company."

When they arrived at her table, the wai
ter held out her chair for her and gave them menus. After introducing himself, he told them about the dinner special. Margaret was so excited she heard none of it. The ocean view section of the restaurant felt as if it were
in
the ocean, the water was so close. The tables were outdoors with nothing separating the diners from the elements. The sun shone low over the nearby water, casting long, gold and pink lights across the full breadth of the ocean.

Another waiter arrived and asked if they wanted drinks
. She ordered water, and her companion ordered an ice tea.

He smiled
. "We haven't even been properly introduced. My name is Tim Radford. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"

"Yes
--Margaret Black."

Margaret felt relieved that she had listened to
Vicky regarding her clothes for the trip. Vicky had insisted that Frank buy her a new wardrobe for her vacation and had gone shopping with her to help her choose the purchases. At the time, she had been merely humoring Vicky, but now she was glad she was not wearing one of her threadbare dresses and an old, cardigan sweater, as she had planned. Tonight, she wore a silk, golden-colored, long-sleeved, shirt from Saks that highlighted the gold flecks in her brown eyes, with a black skirt and exquisite Italian dress sandals. She felt beautiful and glamorous, glamorous enough to sit at table with this gorgeous man.

"You know, you don't realize how much you miss th
e company of a lady, until she's gone. Thank you for letting me join you for dinner."

"Oh, it's nothing, really
. You know, I had no idea this place was so beautiful."

"Oh, yes, always
. And, without knowing, you are dressed for the occasion!  Your dress matches the color of the ocean, as the sun ponders its setting."

"What a poetic way of describing
it-- 'ponders its setting.'  Are you a poet Mr. Bradford?"

"No
--and please call me Tim--I'm afraid not. I'm just a retired businessman."

"You don't seem old enough to be retired."

"Well, I keep myself busy on this board and that. This was supposed to be the time my wife Mary and I spent together--when I had time to travel with her, and then she died of cancer. I've learned the hard way--don't ever live for the future." He turned away from Margaret and looked out toward the sea. He turned back to face Margaret after he had wiped under his eye with his finger.

"Anyway,
I'm glad to no longer be in the real estate game, that's for sure. I got out at just the right time."

"Lucky for you
. Not many people did."

At this point, their dinners arrived, and they dug in to the
ir fresh, grilled seafood.

###

Frank, as he had promised, provided a "companion," himself. First, he convinced me to go out to a play. It took him a week of coaxing and pleading. Noel Coward's
Blithe Spirit
was playing. I had read Coward's comedies but had never seen them performed. Just reading this play, concerning a socialite who hires a medium as fodder for a book and then has the plan backfire when the spirit of his ex-wife is summoned to interfere with his present marriage, had caused me to laugh at several points. Even depressed as I was, I decided not resist the temptation to see it performed. Plus, Frank had no intention of giving up.

During the in
termission, everyone enjoyed champagne in the lobby.

"Won't you allow me to buy you a glass?  You don't even have to drink it
. Just hold it in your hand and look beautiful." Frank said.

When Frank returned with our
drinks, I could not resist the temptation to have a taste. I was surprised at the lightness of it and took several sips, eventually finishing the glass. After the play was over, I wanted to go home, but Frank insisted we go out for a late supper. He had hired a car and driver for the occasion. The night before, I had decreed that it was a ridiculous pretention. However, when the auto and uniformed driver arrived, I was charmed into changing my mind. The car turned out to be a lovely, antique Bentley.

It was exquisite
to have the Bentley waiting, double-parked, outside the theatre for us and to be whisked away to a fine restaurant. Upon arrival, we ordered from the late night menu. As we sat waiting for our steak and salmon, we sipped champagne and munched the exquisite hors d’oeuvres.

As Frank gazed out the window,
I thought about him. He has done so much for me. Where would I be without him? No one else understands me anymore; they're all trying to force me into the past. Not until much later would I realize that Frank had taken great pains to isolate me during the most vulnerable time of my life. He had succeeded in making me feel as if he were the answer to everything, because I spent so much time with him.

"Penny for your thoughts," h
e teased.

"Oh
--I was actually just thinking that I had sort of dreaded going out tonight, but now that I'm here, I'm enjoying myself. It's nice to do something different."

When the main course arrived, Frank began eating voraciously
, but I quickly became full.

"Don't feel you have to finish the food on my account,
" Frank told me.

"Oh, I know
. I just wonder when my old appetite is ever coming back. Being slim and trim is one thing, but this is getting ridiculous. I've lost too much weight."

"Try drinking milkshakes in between meals
. Remember? Those milkshakes Margaret makes for you? You can sip on them and gradually finish the glass."

"How is Margaret, anyway?"

"Well, you know, funny you should ask. Margaret is staying another week. It seems she's met an interesting man."

"You're kidding!
Oh, that's great. I'm so happy for her."

"Yes
. Me too."

"You know, the day I met Margaret, I thought she was very
bad-tempered, but the longer I know her the more I like her."

"Um
--yes." Frank looked uncertain.

"I'll be glad to see her when she returns, so she can tell me all about this man she met.
"

"What is it,
Vicky?  What are you thinking of?"

"Oh, I know you'll think it's silly, but I haven't heard from my friend Paul in so long
. He didn't return my phone call last week."

"Well, people are often fair weather friends
." Frank offered.

Since
I could finish only a little of my dinner, Frank asked the waiter to bring the check.

"D
on't let me hurry you."

"That's all right," Frank replied
. "You look tired tonight. We can talk at home."

After that night
, Frank often had Greek, Chinese, or Italian food delivered, so the temporary housekeeper could leave early. After dinner, he made coffee and we drank it while listening to music in the library.

On one such evening, as
we sat listening to music, I began to speculate about Frank. I had convinced him to read
The Count of Monte Cristo
by telling him it was a tale of adventure and revenge. He now sat across from me reading the book, a serious expression on his face. I thought to myself, I wonder if I have misjudged him?

Lately, I had found I
sometimes had feelings of fondness for Frank. I knew that much of it was pity mixed with gratitude, yet there it was. In addition, it meshed with my feelings of bitterness toward my friends, God, and life in general. The one person who doesn't believe in anything is the only person who is helping me. In my off-kilter state of mind, I conveniently forgot that Father Moore had called me every day since my mother's death, and I forgot that the only time my friends had tried to reach out to me in person, I had rebuffed them. And I forgot that Betts had offered me a place to live. For the first time in my life, I did not believe in God's providence, and I was not grateful for what I had. I was stuck in a state of peevish self-centeredness.

In my
state of vulnerability, I was completely unaware of the fact that I was becoming more and more like Frank each day, simply because of the fact that I was spending so much time with him.

Frank looked up from his book
. "One more coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Would you like to have another spot of brandy in your coffee?"

"Sure
. Why not?  I really like the taste."

Frank had also convinced me
to try a glass of very expensive wine with dinner. As promised, he poured the brandy into my coffee and continued reading his book on the leather sofa across from me. I gradually drank most of my coffee.

Then, on impuls
e, I rose and came to sit beside Frank. I covered his hand with mine. "I just can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done for me and for your company. My friends just don't understand me or what I'm going through."

"It's my pleasure to be able to help you and spend time with you," he answered.

I went back to my seat on the sofa opposite Frank and resumed reading, feeling a welcome sense of contentment. At the time, I was completely unaware that my defenses against Frank were being worn down by my consumption of alcohol and by his constant physical presence.

Nor could I
see the disastrous consequences that would result from my lack of insight.