Sharon had not run directly to the cottage. Not plagued with shyness, she nevertheless found herself slowing to a stop as she approached the cottage grounds. She stood nicely shielded by high shrubbery, in a small quandary of indecision. She had no wish to embarrass her uncle or intrude upon the Harrows, and now the invisible line between mistress and servants held her in troubled abeyance. No matter how furiously she sought to ignore and deny it, the line was there. The Harrows would not refuse her admittance to the cottage, but might they not in their hearts resent her?
She tried to bring the couple to mind, but 28
realized with a pang that she had never had any conversation with either John Harrow or his wife Beth. John was the head gardener and his wife, Sharon thought, had something to do with linens or general cleaning of the big house. John was tall and thin-looking; Beth was of medium height and rather plump. Further than this, Sharon's mind could not go. Oh, botheration, she thought. I can't just go barging in! I wonder how Uncle Nate managed it?
She kicked at the grass at her feet and felt lonely. The move to Skyline Drive had alienated her from her old friends in a subtle way she could not pinpoint. No matter how they tried or she tried, the specter of wealth interceded, and of late Sharon had begun to stay away from Tiger Tail Road. She felt herself a little lost between two worlds, a misplaced person through no fault of her own.
Now standing forlorn and helpless, she was on the point of retreat when Beth Harrow spied her and came toward her, at first frowning and then smiling. "Hello," she said. "Are you looking for your Uncle Nate?"
"Yes-" Sharon bit down on her lower 29
lip, angry with herself for seizing upon this pretext for her presence. "No, I'm not," she added bluntly. "I guess I'm just snooping. I saw him go into your house and I got curious."
Beth Harrow laughed softly. "Well, why not?" she asked. "Most of the staff are eaten with curiosity, too, Sharon. You don't mind if I call you Sharon, do you? Your uncle talks so much about you I feel I know you."
"He does? No, I don't mind at all. He does?" Sharon stared at the pleasant-faced woman, measuring her in swift appraisal. "I can't imagine why," she said. "He hardly knows me."
"Perhaps he'd like to." Beth took the girl's arm, turned her toward the cottage. "Do come in for a while, Sharon. John and I love company and have very little here. Have you ever seen inside the cottage? It's surprisingly roomy, and so comfortable."
Sharon let herself be guided, her mind busy with the thought that here at last was one servant who accepted her as an equal. "It's a pretty place, I think," she said gesturing toward the cottage. "Reminds me a little of our old place on Tiger Tail Road."
Beth Harrow's eyes narrowed perceptibly, but she made no comment. "John and Nate are at their eternal chess," she said," "so let's go in the back way. They hate being disturbed."
"Chess?" Sharon's eyes widened. "Uncle Nate?" Immediately, she felt silly parroting questions. "Oh darn," she said, "I must sound like an idiot. I don't know the first thing about Uncle Nate, Mrs. Harrow, and you might as well know it."
The woman's smile was not unsympathetic, but her tone held a trace of reproach. "He's well worth knowing," she said. "John and I have grown very fond of him."
Sharon gave her a sharp look. Some people did find it easy to be fond of anybody with money to burn. She felt oddly on the edge of tears, for her nature was not suspicious, and she was hungry for understanding. "Do you like it here?" she asked wistfully.
"Oh, very much. The work is pleasant and the cottage-well, Sharon, we feel terribly lucky. My husband's health isn't what it should be so there are not too many jobs he can handle, but here in this beautiful place and not having much more than supervising to do, John is just in his glory. And I'm happy, too." She squeezed the girl's arm. "It's been a little lonesome without our son, Sharon, but things are picking up-first Nate and now you."
They were entering the cottage and Sharon glanced about the pleasant kitchen. "Mmm-nice," she said, then cocked her head at a sound from another room. "Is that Uncle Nate laughing?"
"Doesn't he have the most infectious laugh-more like a chuckle? He's a darling, Sharon, and"-Beth met the clear gray eyes and held them-"he's lonesome. He wouldn't admit it, but he is, and it does seem a shame."
"Mrs. Harrow"-a scowl darkened Sharon's face and she looked away from the friendly brown eyes watching her-"Maybe you don't understand him. He's the one who-I mean, all this belongs to him. And, I for one didn't ask for it-or want it."
Having now said what she had been longing to scream up and down Skyline Drive for too long, Sharon felt no relief, but instead felt herself lowered in the eyes of Beth Harrow. Mrs. Harrow had managed to wipe away the invisible line, but now it was back between them, or so Sharon thought, because it was plain that Beth Harrow was pretending not to have heard.
"We're expecting a visit from our son this corning week," she said blandly. "It's been over two months since we've seen him, so naturally we're excited. He's interning at the Alexander Fleming Memorial Hospital in Park City," she added in explanation.
"I've heard of it," Sharon said, not really listening.
"Yes, it's a fine hospital. We lived in Park City before we came here, to be near John, and that's why we're here-to be near him when he finishes at Fleming and starts to practice here in Brookings." Beth moved about, preparing lunch with a casual air. "I hated leaving him so soon, but we got the chance at this job. A medical education costs so much, Sharon, but it will be worth it all when our Johnny is finally launched."
Sharon's interest was stirred, and she began to think that Mrs. Harrow had been discreet and not censorious in ignoring her remark. "I think it's wonderful of you to help your son," she said, and stared down at her scuffed shoes. "Is the work-I mean, does old Uppity work you very hard, Mrs. Harrow? It doesn't seem right that you should have to-"
Beth Harrow laughed. "Oh dear, you sound just like young John. 'My mother a cleaning woman,' he wails! I try to tell him there's nothing wrong with being a cleaning woman and I'm glad to be able to help. You see, Sharon"-she smiled companionably at the girl-"neither Mr. Harrow nor I have had much education and have felt the lack of it. The idea of our son becoming a doctor-already being a doctor-is a dream come true for us. And he's worked like a Trojan all these years. Such a good boy! We've been more than happy to help all we could." She laughed again. "I guess you can tell our son is our pride and joy, Sharon. I hope he gets to meet you when he comes next week. I think you'll like him, and he-you."
Sharon's expression bordered on the sardonic. She could not work up much interest in this wonderful son of Beth's, but the idea that he would like her was rather farfetched. Men just didn't. She was too opinionated, too quick to argue and outwit them. "When is he arriving?" she asked, for something to say.
"Tuesday. Your Uncle Nate is coming to dinner to meet him, Sharon. I'd be pleased if you'd come, too. I've arranged with Mrs. Upstead for Tuesday and Wednesday off, which I appreciate. She's really a very nice woman once you get to know her."
Sharon grimaced. "She hates me," she said.
Beth tipped her head a little to one side, let her eyes run over the stubborn young face. "You're not very happy, are you, dear?" she asked. Then seeing Sharon's mouth grow vulnerable, she made a comical face and smiled. "You know, Sharon, you're really very like your Uncle Nate," she told the surprised girl.
Beth's tone had touched Sharon oddly and made her mind swing for a moment to her own mother, who was nothing like this gentle, humorous, and sensible woman. Now Sharon came to stand beside the woman and peer into her face. "I like you, Mrs. Harrow." she said earnestly. "I don't blame Uncle Nate for coming down here every chance he gets. Do you really think I'm like him? In what way? I don't really know him, you know."
Sharon sighed briefly. "Can I help?" she asked.
"Why, yes, you can set the table. We eat here in the kitchen."
"We always did, too, at home." Sharon smiled as she moved to obey. "I mean back on Tiger Tail Road, of course. I can't get used to the idea that that big old mausoleum is home."
"To tell the truth, Sharon, I'd rather have this cottage myself, but then, I'm a pretty ordinary housewife."
"I don't think you're ordinary at all, and that business about you not being educated-you don't talk at all like Brownie and her crew."
Beth laughed warmly. "Well, thank you, Sharon. My husband and I have worked hard to learn our grammar for our son's sake. We just couldn't let our boy be ashamed of his old ma and pa."
"He'd be a real kook if he were. I think he's lucky to have a mother like you. I wish I did-" Sharon frowned. It was just too easy to talk to this woman. "My mother's all right," she added quickly, not wanting to incur Mrs. Harrow's disapproval. "I'm really the bad one of our family," she confessed. "I just don't seem to know how to like the rest of them."
Beth was silent for a moment, then she sighed softly. "You are like your uncle," she said at last. "I hope you two become better acquainted, Sharon"-she turned a troubled gaze on the girl. "He isn't very happy either. Things have not worked out as he hoped."
"What things?" Sharon's rancor for her uncle stirred. "Do you mean he's sorry he made a fool of us?"
Beth Harrow set a bowl of salad on the table with unnecessary force. "I've said more than I should already," she said snappishly.
"Oh, gosh," Sharon sat down abruptly. "Me and my big mouth," she mourned. "Don't be mad at me, Mrs. Harrow. I'm just kind of mixed-up anyhow."
"I'll call the men to lunch," Mrs. Harrow said, but her tone softened and she gave Sharon a troubled smile, patting her shoulder. "You poor child," she said, and left the kitchen.
Sharon sat slouched, half-tempted to rise and leave, but held by the hope of understanding in Beth Harrow's tone and eyes.
And she really did not want to leave this kitchen, this cottage, that smelled of sweet domesticity and was snug in the warmth of human kindness. She felt lost and angry and at odds with herself, and most of all, she wanted to be liked by Beth Harrow and feel at home again somewhere.
Uncle Nate came into the kitchen behind the Harrows, beaming to find her here. "Well, well, Sharon," he said, "what a nice surprise."
"Hi, Uncle Nate." She got to her feet awkwardly, wondering why she had never noticed how blue his eyes were. "Mrs. Harrow asked me to lunch," she said like a child.
John Harrow laughed gently. "I wondered how long it would take Mother to lure some young one to our door," he said, his own blue eyes twinkling.
Sharon tilted her head toward the tall man, deciding she liked him. "She didn't lure me," she said with a grin. "I just butted in."
Her uncle chuckled. "Ah, yes," he nodded, "it's what I did myself, Sharon, but these good folks don't hold it against us,"
"Sit, sit, all of you," Beth Harrow ordered. "Nate, you old rascal, you know we love having you any time-and Sharon, too."
"Now Mother will have an ally against the two of us, eh, Nate?" John Harrow laughed. "This uncle of yours," he told Sharon, "is quite a chess master. Keeps me on my toes!"
"I never could understand the game," remarked Beth. "And what gets me, Sharon, is that their games never seem to end."
Sharon was amazed at how quickly comfortable she was with them and with what ease the conversation flowed. Beth Harrow kept the talk quite cleverly away from the personal. Sharon decided that, education or no education, Mrs. Harrow certainly did not lack intelligence. The girl kept stealing looks at her uncle, although she avoided addressing him directly.
Uncle Nate was a rather comical-looking little man and yet rather handsome, she decided presently. His high color, and hair that stood up on his head in white tufts, stressed in an eye-catching way the hurting blue of his eyes. He had deep dimples in his
otherwise amazingly unlined face. He'sLike A Rosy Cherub , she thought, or a roly-poly Santa Claus. This latter thought made her frown. After all, he was the cause of her disrupted life. Still, it was interesting to be looking at him and really seeing him after months of going out of her way to avoid acknowledging his existence. And she liked the Harrows and they liked him. Sharon prided herself in her fair-mindedness. It was just possible that she would have to revise her opinion of Uncle Nate.
She talked and laughed and thoroughly enjoyed the lunch, but all the while her mind hummed with unanswered questions. Mrs. Harrow had said Uncle Nate was lonesome, and that things had not worked out as he hoped. What had he hoped for? And why did he talk to the Harrows about her? Did he think her the ingrate her mother insisted she was? Why was he here in the gardener's cottage when he could be anywhere in the world he wished? And for that matter, why was she here? And why, why was she feeling the first little ripplings of happiness and hope she had not felt for too long?
Sharon was not one to let well enough alone. She had to have answers, but at the moment could not devise a method of approach to this little man she had, she supposed, treated with open contempt. Beth Harrow solved her problem neatly.
"John and I have to get back to work," she announced when the meal ended. "Your uncle always insists upon doing the dishes, Sharon. Would you like to stay and help him?"
Sharon hesitated, surprised to find herself shy, but John Harrow bridged the moment with laughter. "You'll get used to Mother before long, Sharon," he said. "In this house everyone sings for his supper, as Nate here has found out."
"Now, Dad, you stop that. Half the time Nate pushes me out of my own kitchen. He's quite a cook, did you know that, Sharon?"
Sharon shook her head, bothered by a small thrust of jealousy at her uncle's obvious popularity. To be liked by the Harrows became very important. "I'll sing for my supper any time you let me," she said, and for a moment her glance met Uncle Nate's eyes. "Do you want me to stay and help?" she asked.
He dabbed at his lips with his napkin while above its whiteness his blue eyes danced. "I'll wash, you dry," he said. "And you two run along. Together Sharon and I will have these dishes done up in no time."
Sharon's heart gave an odd leap. What a nice word that was-together. And what a nice way he was looking at her-almost as if he liked her.
"Well, let's get at it," she said gruffly.
The Harrows left laughing, and the two behind them did not see the quick, pleased look they exchanged.
"I tell you, Dad," Beth Harrow said when they were alone, "that girl could be just what Nate needs, if she'd let herself."
"You're a very conniving woman, Beth Harrow."
Beth laughed. "Oh, some people just need a little push," she replied in an offhand manner. "And I like Sharon. I don't think she's ever had any real mothering, the poor little thing."
"Well, you'll remedy that or my name's not John Harrow."
She made a face at his sly, teasing tone. "Oh, go tend your roses," she said. "I don't know which of you is the worse tease-you or your son!" And although all she went forward to was endless cleaning of what she felt was a loveless house, she walked with the light step of a happy woman.