The last
time Ruthie’s mother came home from a rummage sale she brought her a worn out Golden
Book. Ruthie loved Golden Books. She could read these small hardcover picture
books all by herself and the pictures carried her away to a world she’d never
seen before. The rummage people just gave this book to her mother because it
was unsaleable.
Not that
the world Ruthie lived in was so different from those on the page of the Golden
Books; it was just that the children she read about in these books did things
she probably never would. Things as simple as riding a bike, for example. Other
kids in Ruthie’s neighborhood had bikes, but her mom couldn’t afford to get one
for her. You see her dad had been killed in the war when she was just a baby.
She never knew him. He was buried somewhere far away overseas. It was just the
two of them against the world since then.
Ruthie
and her mother lived in a small apartment up over a small store in the South
End. Money was something they had little of. When the sardines were running,
Ruthie’s mom worked in the factory down at the end of the street cutting off
heads and tails with very sharp scissors and packing the fish in tin cans. Sometimes
pieces of her skin went into the cans along with the fish. It was a good day
when Ruthie’s mom brought home a mackerel she’d saved in the bucket under her
bench. When they came through on the belt along with the silver sardines, the
packers could keep them. The factory had no use for them.
When the
sardine season ended they existed on her Mom’s unemployment and by wheeling the
small red rusty wagon Ruthie sometimes played with up to the church basement
where foodstuffs, mostly canned, were collected and disseminated to the poor
people in the community. Here she would load up with boxes of macaroni and
cheese; canned beans; canned vegetables; and a plastic bag full of cheap
cereal. She supplemented what she could get that day with what she could buy,
hopefully some milk, American cheese and butter; coffee if she was lucky; a
loaf of day old white bread; and whatever meat she could get which ended up
being mostly hot dogs. The neighborhood bakery sometimes had day old stuff too,
maybe even a big chunk of pound cake, which Ruthie’s mom bought when she could.
It helped that a good friend of hers worked there and gave her a break when her
boss’s back was turned. Her mom suspected that the boss sometimes turned her
back on purpose.
During
the school year Ruthie got free lunches at school because of their low income.
So at least she got one good meal a day during that time. If worse came to
worse during the winter, Ruthie’s mom would try to get on welfare once again.
The government also gave school children a small can of orange juice every day
as it was determined that children in that area of the country didn’t get
enough vitamin C in their diet during the school year when it was cold. Citrus
fruit was expensive and not all that available in those days during the winter.
Goods were mostly delivered via trucks over the road and the weather often
hindered the delivery of some necessary goods. Winters were longer then and
snow hung around way into the spring. By
the time they got this far up on the coast citrus fruit was shriveled up and
not fit to eat. Ruthie’s teacher, Miss Meredith, passed out graham crackers
with the juice. She paid for them with money out of her own pocket. It was a
welcome mid-afternoon treat for the kids before they went home for the day.
On this
winter day in 1947 very close to Christmas when Ruthie was nearly seven, or six
and a half as she put it, Ruthie curled up on the worn out mattress of the
full-size iron bed and opened her new precious Golden Book. She pulled her
jacket up around her neck and wrapped the ratty worn wool blanket around her
feet. The bed was next to the radiator but the heat didn’t always make it up to
their small studio apartment. The two scatter rugs they had didn’t help keep
the wooden floors much warmer either. It was warmer during the day when the
store was open and the heat generated by the machines in the store found its
way up to them, but today was Saturday and the store closed at noon. The bed
was the only real piece of furniture in the room and they were lucky to have it
as it was given to them by some good friends who had no use for it anymore.
They also had a small kitchen table with two wooden chairs. That was the extent
of their furniture. Scavenged cardboard boxes held their clothes and whatever
else they owned.
They had
a small kitchen with a small icebox and a two-burner stove with an oven that
worked when it wanted to. It sat on an uneven floor anyway which made anything,
like a cake, tilted when it came out of the oven. Ruthie’s mom always attempted
to make her a birthday cake in June anyway. Ruthie didn’t know it wasn’t
supposed to be tilted, so she was thrilled to get a cake just for her on her
birthday.
The small
bathroom wasn’t much bigger than a closet which held a big bathtub, a sink, and
the toilet. At least the room stood on an inside wall so it didn’t get as cold
as the rest of the place.
Ruthie’s
mother was out on this Saturday doing a cleaning job for a family up in midtown
where the most affluent folks in town lived. The area was full of old Victorian
homes, some with round turrets on them. Town founders had established the area
way back when Shoreville was a leader in the lime industry. They were mostly
captains of the lime rock industry or captains of a sailing ship which plied
the coast in those days.
This
family was planning a big Christmas party for friends and business
acquaintances and needed help sprucing up the place before the big event.
Silver had to be polished; every expensive Chinese vase and knick knack had to
be dusted; floors washed; rugs beaten; dinner linens washed, starched and
ironed. It was a big job and Ruthie’s mom was one of five women working at the
house that day.
The pay
wasn’t much for ten hours of steady work most of which was performed on your
knees scrubbing every corner of the place. But she would take what she could
get. Christmas was coming and maybe this year she could get a real store-bought
present for her precious Ruthie.
She left
Ruthie a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and told her to just sit on the bed
and read her story and don’t open the door to anyone. She didn’t have the money
to pay for a babysitter for Ruthie and besides, what she got paid today would
be seriously depleted if she had to pay someone to watch Ruthie.
Ruthie
opened to the first page of her Golden Book and read the title of the story, “The
Red Velvet Coat.” Ruthie was a good reader but sometimes big words stopped her.
“Velvet” was a hard one but she sounded it out and could see by the picture
that it was a coat and yes it was red and yes it must be velvet. Ruthie knew
what velvet was because she had seen the material on some of the richer kids in
town. One day when she was uptown at the First National grocery store with her
mother, she ran a dirty hand over the sleeve of one little girl’s coat and the girl
pulled back away from her and shouted, “Hey, get your dirty hands off my coat!”
The
girl’s mother looked at Ruthie with pity and tugged on her child’s hand
“Let’s
go,” she said. Under her breath she said, “You should not be so rude to those
less fortunate than you are. I am ashamed of you.”
Ruthie
ran back to her mother who was on the other side of the grocery store looking
for a cheap loaf of bread.
Despite
that retort, Ruthie remembered what that velvet felt like and thought it must
be the softest thing she had ever touched. She remembered it now as she looked
at the picture of the little girl in the most beautiful red velvet coat she
ever saw. “What’s it like to own such a coat,” she thought. She had only a drab
threadbare brown wool jacket that was missing a button in the middle. Her mother
had not found the time to hunt up a new button for it nor the time to sew it on
for her. The cold winter wind often blew up under it for that reason and Ruthie
avoided going outside when it was real cold if she could.
She
looked at the picture of the red velvet coat longingly. The little girl wearing
it was named Susan. She figured that name out real easy. I bet people call her
Susie, she thought.
Up at the
mid-town house Ruthie’s mother, Eleanor, got a little break from scrubbing
floors by volunteering to polish a silver tea set. She was able to sit down at
the kitchen table to do this task. Her feet and knees welcomed the respite from
hard labor.
She was
hard at her task when the lady of the house, Mrs. Helen Heatherton, came into
the kitchen.
“Ummm…I’m
sorry, dear, I didn’t catch your name before.”
“It’s
Eleanor, Eleanor Robinson, Mrs. Heatherton.”
“Oh yes,
of course. Thank you so much for coming with the other girls today. We need all
the help we can get. I’m expecting close to 100 people tomorrow. My, my, I
didn’t even know we knew that many people. Well thank goodness it’s an open
house and people will be coming and going. I think the ballroom can handle
that.”
Eleanor
didn’t reply to Helen’s statement. It wasn’t her place to do so. She knew when
to stay quiet and mind her own business.
Helen
went over to the wall phone, picked it up, and said to the operator, “Oh dear,
if you would, could you get me the Birdall residence. I’d like to speak to
Cynthia if she’s home…the number? Oh, I think the number is 4596. Don’t you
know it? Well try that anyway.”
Eleanor
heard this exchange but tried to keep an impassive look on her face. She could
never understand these rich people when they assumed such things. It was like
they expected everyone to know what they wanted instantly and simply stood by
waiting for further instructions. She wondered what that operator went through
in a day’s time with such demands. It hit on her sense of humor somehow and she
hid her face so that Helen wouldn’t see her smirk. As long as she pays me at
the end of the day, I don’t care what she does, she thought.
Eleanor
also knew that despite their seemingly selfish ways, some of the rich people in
town were very generous, especially to those less fortunate than they. There was
many a project in town that saw its way to completion because of the outright
monetary gifts given by these people, many times anonymously.
As Helen
completed her call, when she did indeed reach Cynthia Birdall, she complimented
Eleanor on her work as she left the kitchen, “You are doing a marvelous job
with that tea set, Eleanor. Isn’t it beautiful? It was my grandmother’s.”
“Yes it
is,” said Eleanor quietly.
Helen stopped suddenly and backed into the
kitchen again. “You have a little girl, don’t you, Eleanor? I think I’ve seen
you downtown with her once in a while.”
“Yes,
yes, Ruthie,” said Eleanor with much surprise in her voice. She couldn’t
believe that Helen would even know she existed at all.
“Where is
she today? It’s Saturday so there’s no school.”
“Ah…she’s
with friends,” Eleanor lied. She couldn’t very well tell her she left a
six-year-old home alone while she worked. She couldn’t tell if Helen believed
her or not.
There was
an awkward pause before Helen continued, “Do you think you could help us out
here at the party itself. You know, help in the kitchen arranging finger food
on plates, that sort of thing? I’d pay you a little more money than you are
getting today. We could really use the help as one of the girls who was coming
can’t make it. What do you say? Oh…if you can’t find anyone to sit with Ruthie
why don’t you just bring her along. She can sit up on the stool over there and
maybe even help you out a little. She’s such a cute little thing as I remember.
And of course the house will all be decorated for Christmas, fires in the
fireplaces, and music too. We’ve hired someone to play the piano for us in the
drawing room, carols and that sort of thing. Ruthie might enjoy it. Please say
you’ll bring her.”
Eleanor
was flabbergasted. How could she say no. Ruthie was a good girl and was never a
bother. And when would Ruthie ever get another chance like this. It would be
like a living Christmas present for her. She knew it would be a memory Ruthie
would always carry with her no matter what her lot in life might be.
“Well…Mrs.
Heatherton, are you sure? I’m sure Ruthie would love it…”
“Say no
more then,” Helen said. “I’ll expect you about 10:30 O.K..? And if it’s a
stormy day I’ll see that someone comes to pick you both up. No, never mind,
I’ll get someone to pick you up anyway and take you home too. It will be so
much fun.”
“Sure.
Sure, Mrs. Heatherton. 10:30. I…we’ll be here.”
“Good.
Now I must go check on a few things. See you and Ruthie then.”
And Helen
was gone.
Unaware
of what was going on in mid-town at the Heatherton residence, Ruthie had fallen
asleep on the big iron bed. She’d fallen asleep before finishing her sandwich
and half of it lay next to her hand. She had the big quilt over her and her body
was curled up into a ball against the cold of the room. She dreamed of a
beautiful red velvet coat hanging on a hook in her own beautiful bedroom with
pretty curtains on the windows like she’d seen in magazine pictures she sneaked
a peek at in the grocery story magazine section. She wondered what it would be
like to live in one of those fancy houses like the ones in mid-town Shoreville.
The dream
featured a panorama of a room filled with dolls in pretty dresses and other
toys all placed neatly on shelves. There was a thick plush rug on the floor and
a small white shaggy dog sat beside her as she read a brand new Golden Book
while sitting in her very own white rocking chair. It was a good dream and she
was quite dismayed when she awoke to a dark room and her mother still absent.
She shivered from the unease she felt. She found her way to the kitchen table
so she could stand in the chair and put on the wall light switch. There. That
was better.
Ruthie
still couldn’t read a clock very well but she could see that the big hand was
on five and since it was dark she assumed it was almost supper time. She could
hear people walking on the sidewalk below the apartment window and vehicle
traffic had picked up too so she figured people were headed home for their
supper. Her belly growled and she walked over to the bed to get the rest of her
sandwich. She looked in the icebox and saw there was maybe a small glass of
milk left so she got a glass down from the kitchen shelf where they stored what
dishes they had and poured it out.
She sat
sullenly at the kitchen table swinging her legs and munching the rest of her
sandwich. She hoped her mother would bring something good home for supper. She
was tired of beans and hot dogs.
Soon
after she was done she heard the key in the lock and her mother came into the
room.
“Hey,
sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m so late. You hungry?”
Ruthie
spied the bags in her mother’s hands and got up from the chair excitedly.
“What did
you bring? What’s in the bags? Ummm. Smells good. What did you bring me?”
Ruthie
jumped up and down in her excitement.
“Hold on,
sister. Yes, I have food and it smells good for a reason. Because it is. Look
here.”
Ruthie
watched in amazement as her mother pulled out one good smelling foodstuff after
another from the bags. Everything was wrapped up or in containers to keep them
warm. Out came some meat Ruthie had never seen before; gravy; stuffing and
mashed potatoes; rolls; a big chunk of real butter; a container of mixed peas
and carrots; four of the biggest oranges and two of the best grapefruits Ruthie
had ever seen; and a big chunk of real angel food cake with frosting on it.
“Oh,
Mumma,” Ruthie said as she jumped up and down clapping her hands. “Where did
all this come from? Is this our Christmas dinner?”
She
grabbed one of the oranges. It was so big.
“I never
saw an orange this big. Can I have it for breakfast, please. Pleeeese?”
Eleanor
patted Ruthie’s hand and chuckling at her enthusiasm she hugged her and pulled
her onto her knee at the kitchen table.
“O.K., my
love. I’ll tell you everything in a minute. Right now, I’m going to put a plate
for both of us in the oven to warm up for our supper. There is enough here that
we can save some for our Christmas dinner too.”
After
Eleanor had put their dinner in the oven and stored the rest of the food for
later use, she sat across from Ruthie and proceeded to tell her the story of
her day. She came to the part where she was getting ready to leave the
Heatherton’s house.
“And then
do you know what? Mrs. Heatherton came to the kitchen door where we left from
and handed each of us girls who helped her today all these bags you see here.
Seems it was a tradition with her to share food with her help on the day before
her annual Christmas party. We were all so surprised. On top of that she had a
couple of young men load us and all our goodies into cars for the ride home. It
was so nice of her, don’t you think?”
“I’ve
never seen so much good food all at once in my life,” Ruthie said. “But where
did those oranges and grapefruits come from. I never saw ones like that in the
grocery stores.”
“Well I
asked her the same thing and she said she has a relative who stays in Florida
for the winter and she always sends up a few cases of nice citrus because she
knows we can’t get them up here in the winter. She had so much this year that
she wanted us to have some before they went bad. Wasn’t that nice of her
again?”
As
Eleanor passed a warmed-up plate to Ruthie she said, “Careful, the plate will
be hot. Let’s eat, honey.”
The two
sat down and Ruthie just sat and smiled at the food for a moment so she could
take it all in. One thing troubled her though.
“Mumma,
what kind of meat is this. Have I ever had it before?”
“Oh, no,
Ruthie, I don’t think you have. It’s pork chops. Here let me cut yours up for
you. You’ll like it, I’m sure. Put some of this gravy on it and on your
potatoes and stuffing.”
Ruthie
tried everything eagerly.
“Yum,
this is delicious, Mumma. And we have more for later too. Yippee.”
When
Eleanor was telling Ruthie the story of her day at the Heatherton’s, she left
out the best part. As they ate, she told her about the party the next day.
When
Eleanor told her about her part in the festivities for the next day, Ruthie sat
in quiet contemplation.
“But what
will I wear?” she said finally.
Eleanor
laughed, thinking to herself, how old is this girl that she’s already worried
about what she’s going to wear.
“Don’t
worry, honey. When we get cleaned up from supper, we’ll look at your clothes
and find something, maybe the dress you wear to church and your good patent
leather shoes I found for you at the rummage sale a while ago. I think you have
a pair of nice white socks too. You’ll look just fine I’m sure. We have to get
everything ready to go though, because they’ll be here at about ten to pick us
up and I don’t want our driver to have to wait for us. We both need to take a
bath too in the morning and I need to fix your hair.
Ruthie
had beautiful blond hair that curled naturally around her mother’s finger.
Eleanor would find a ribbon somewhere in one of their clothes boxes to accent
her curls. She made a mental note to be sure Ruthie’s hands and nails were
clean too. Children as a rule always had dirty hands at the wrong time she
thought.
As
promised, Helen Heatherton had a car waiting for Ruthie and her mom at around
ten the next morning. It would be a day indeed that Ruthie would never forget,
just as Eleanor suspected it would. She’d found a nice apron that was kind of
Christmas like with red and green trim on it that she’d picked up somewhere
along the way. She dressed in her best housedress and put the newly starched
apron on over it and off they went.
The
driver left them off at the back door and they went in through the kitchen. The
house had two kitchens and Eleanor suspected they were in what was called, “The
Winter Kitchen.” Eleanor didn’t see Mrs. Heatherton but expected someone would
tell her what to do shortly. She lifted Ruthie up onto the kitchen stool and
told her to stay put until she knew what was expected of them.
Ruthie
looked around trying to contain her excitement as she took in all the delicious
smells in this beautiful kitchen. This room is bigger than our whole apartment,
she thought.
Soon
activity in the kitchen picked up as the woman in charge of refreshments came
in and instructed Eleanor how to place hors d’oeuvres on a glass plate that was
trimmed in silver. She was shown how to place them in a pleasing pattern. Soon
other women helpers arrived and the kitchen became a beehive of activity.
Ruthie watched them all work with great interest and awe. Most of the food was
unfamiliar to her and the serving trays, plates, and glasses she was sure came
from a castle somewhere because they were so pretty and shone so bright.
A few
minutes later, the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the great room
beyond opened and Helen Heatherton entered. She spied Ruthie sitting quietly on
the stool in the corner. Helen came up to Eleanor and said, “Hi, Eleanor, I’m
so glad you are here and I see you brought your lovely daughter with you.
Ruthie, right?”
“Hello,
Mrs. Heatherton. Yes, this is my Ruthie. She won’t be any trouble I promise
you.”
“Oh dear,
don’t you worry about a thing. I’m sure she is very well behaved if she is your
daughter. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked my daughter, whenever she gets
home that is, to show Ruthie around the place and make sure she has some fun
while she is here. She went to a party with her Girl Scout friends, but should
be home soon. They are supposed to stop at the Knox Home to sing carols for the
old folks and give them each a small present. She should be home soon.”
She
looked over at Ruthie. “I’ll let you know when she gets here, dear. O.K.?”
Mrs.
Heatherton disappeared again and Eleanor glanced over at Ruthie. “You doing
O.K. over there, honey? Just a little while longer and you can get down…when
her daughter comes…O.K.”
Eleanor
wasn’t sure about the prospect of her daughter spending time with Helen’s
daughter. They came from different worlds and it could be uncomfortable for
Ruthie. Ruthie, as all small children do, sensed her mother’s hesitancy and
squirmed a little. A naturally shy little girl, Ruthie wasn’t sure she wanted
to spend time with a little rich girl. What if she said something wrong and the
rich girl laughed at her? Suddenly the day ahead of her loomed darker than she
had expected it to be.
However,
she sat up straight and vowed to be brave no matter what lie ahead. As it
happened, it didn’t turn out all that bad.
In about
an hour after her mother had left the kitchen to help serve in the big room,
Mrs. Heatherton bustled into the kitchen with her daughter in hand. She came
directly over to Ruthie and Ruthie saw her tug on her daughter’s hand to bring
her up closer to Ruthie.
“Ruthie,
this is my daughter, Judith Rose. She is going to see to it that you have a
good time while you are here. Right, Judith,” she said as she turned her back
to Ruthie and glared at her daughter.
“Sure,
Mother,” Judith said, “I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Well
then, I’ll leave you two to explore and have fun. Be sure to have some food too
while you are here, Ruthie. Consider yourself as one of my guests. Now run
along you two.”
The word,
“guest” flabbergasted Ruthie for a minute. She could never in a million years
imagine herself as a guest in this grand house. Why when she first arrived it
had looked like a real castle to her what with the turrets on either side of
the front of the house. She had never had much chance to see the houses at this
end of town and the experience was almost overwhelming for a child of the South
End.
As the
day progressed Ruthie hardly heard what Judith was saying because she was too
busy staring at everything. From the gold-framed pictures on the walls; to the
fancy newel post on the winding staircase; to the three fireplaces with marble
mantels all ablaze with big logs glowing at her. It was almost more than a
six-year-old South End girl could take in.
Finally
disgusted with having to escort and babysit this South End kid, Judith took
Ruthie’s hand and pulled her towards a chair next to the fireplace.
“Hey, why
don’t you sit down and I’ll get a plate of food for you. O.K. You are getting
in everyone’s way. Just sit here and I’ll be right back.”
It seemed
to Ruthie like a long time before Judith returned, but she sat and listened to
the music and smiled as her mother came in and out of the room. The guests were
mostly older people. They were all well-dressed and a few of them came over and
said hello to her. Knowing Helen Heatherton, they soon realized that this
little girl was a project of some kind for Helen and therefore accepted the
little girl with the obviously hand-me-down dress for who she was.
Helen,
meanwhile, had no such project in mind for Ruthie and her mother. She simply
was a good person at heart and had found out that Eleanor was a war widow and
struggled as such bringing up this beautiful little girl. If she could lighten
her load if even for a day she vowed to do it. In fact, since she’d met Eleanor
she started thinking of ways she might help her beyond the limits of just
working for her.
As the
party was winding down she looked over at the two girls now both sitting by the
fire. Judith looked perfectly bored, but it looked like she was at least trying
to be cordial to Ruthie. As it happened, Judith was wearing a blue velvet dress
today with a big white bow in back. The velvet was so irresistible to Ruthie
that she reached over and ran her hand over the sleeve.
Judith
turned her head and glared at Ruthie. She opened her mouth to protest, but Helen
quickly came over and stood next to Ruthie. Suddenly, she had a déjà vu moment.
She drew in a quick breath but let it out quickly so as not to alarm the girls.
My God,
she thought, this is the same little girl that Judith was so rude to that day
when she brushed her hand over her red velvet coat. She could see that Judith didn’t
even recognize Ruthie. She herself had only had a glimpse of Ruthie, but
somehow that faced clicked in her consciousness. She had to do something to
make it right.
She knelt
down next to Ruthie and said, “Do you like Judith’s dress, Ruthie. It’s velvet.
Do you like velvet?”
Ruthie
looked at Helen but didn’t recognize her as the woman with the bad girl that
day. She did remember what that velvet felt like, however.
“Oh yes,”
she said to Helen. “It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt.”
“It is
very soft isn’t it, Ruthie.”
Helen
rose and walked determinedly out of the great room. She had a mission and was
in a hurry to complete it. On the way, the tears welled up in her eyes. I must
make this right, she thought.
The day
had a happy ending and it was indeed one that Ruthie never forgot in her
lifetime, because the most amazing thing, even more than all the amazing things
that happened that day, was what happened as Ruthie and her mother got ready to
leave the party and the Heatherton house.
Helen
drew the two of them aside and said, “Please, dear ladies, won’t you come into
the parlor and sit with me a minute. I have something for you.”
Ruthie
and her mother looked at each other and followed Mrs. Heatherton. Helen drew
out a bag from behind the chair and sat down holding it. She looked at Eleanor
and Ruthie and said sincerely, “Eleanor, my daughter and I need to apologize to
your daughter.”
“Oh,”
said Eleanor, “Whatever for. You have given her such a good time today. What
should you ever have to apologize for?”
Eleanor
proceeded to tell her the story of the day that Ruthie had patted Judith’s red
velvet coat. She then turned to Judith and said, “Judith?”
Judith
turned reluctantly towards Ruthie and said softly, “Ruthie, I’m sorry about
what I said to you. Please accept my apology.”
“And
please accept my apology, Ruthie, for my rudeness that day too. I am truly
ashamed for my daughter and myself.”
Eleanor
protested at once. “Oh no. Mrs. Heatherton. This is all so unnecessary. Ruthie
knows better than to touch something that belongs to someone else. Please. It’s
O.K. Honestly.”
Helen
reached out and patted Eleanor’s hand. “However, the apology stands and besides
that…”
Helen
reached into the bag and drew out the red velvet coat Ruthie had touched that
day. “This coat is too small for Judith anymore and I thought it might be just
the right size for Ruthie now. Stand up Ruthie and let’s see how it fits.”
Ruthie
gasped and put her hand over her mouth and thought she must be living in a
fairy tale where dreams really do come true.
The coat
fit perfectly and both Eleanor and Ruthie were completely overwhelmed. Eleanor
had tears in her eyes too and Ruthie thought this must be the best day of her
life.
Eleanor
choked out a thank you and said, “What do you say, Ruthie?”
“Oh,
thank you Mrs. Heather….er…thank you.”
“That’s
O.K., honey,” Helen chuckled. You wear it in good health my dear.”
As they
went out the door at the Heatherton house, Helen whispered into Eleanor’s ear,
“I’ll be in touch with you and Ruthie, Eleanor. There may be some more things
I’ll want to talk to you about, especially about your current circumstances.
Take care.
That
night as Ruthie and her mom climbed into the big bed in their South End
apartment up over the store, Ruthie clutched the red velvet coat to her face.
She had never felt anything so soft.
“Merry
Christmas, Mom,” she said.
