The Letter - Chapter 58

My nerves were on edge during dinner with my mother and Richard.  Was I going home or not?  After overhearing their argument, I expected Mom or Richard to tell me they were sending me home.  But while they both were as pleasant as plum sauce, neither gave any indication that my departure was imminent.

Nevertheless, I was operating under the assumption that this could be my last night in the Zingerman Estate – at least for a while.  So I excused myself from dinner before dessert was served, complaining of an upset stomach. While Hughes was still occupied, I snuck back to my mother’s library, replaced the pen I had lifted and examined the purple letter in her desk drawer.  Just as I suspected, it was from the mystery letter lady in Issaquah.  I considered stealing it, but decided instead to take a picture with my phone.  The picture clearly showed the letter’s contents as well as the fact that it was sitting on top of my mother’s desk.  Dad should thank me for getting a phone with such a good camera.

Back in my room, I unfolded the paper with the notes I had made while eavesdropping.  I glanced at the writing on the other side, and I could hardly believe what I saw.  It was a draft of the letter that Mrs. Barnhart’s friend had read to me over the phone.  I considered sneaking back to the library to see if the wastebasket contained any additional drafts, but I thought I had enough.  I sure didn’t want to get caught snooping where I shouldn’t be.  Hughes wouldn’t believe I came back looking for another book. 

I texted Dad that I might be coming home soon and also that I had discovered some helpful clues.  I was so excited, I had trouble falling asleep.  So I lay in bed thinking about what I needed to do, assuming I wouldn’t be coming back here tomorrow after school.  The only things here that truly belonged to me were my phone and what I wore to the Sweetheart Dance.  I wouldn’t need my dress or my pearls for a while, though I probably should smuggle the pearls out in my backpack along with the clues I had gathered.  My biggest concern was my phone.  I couldn’t sneak it into school without causing the metal detector to beep.  I checked out some videos on YouTube about ways to sneak a phone past a metal detector, but none were foolproof or very easy.  I finally fell asleep without a good solution.

When morning came, I had the thought that I could give my phone to Minerva, figuring I could pick it up at her restaurant within a few days of going home.  But there was no sign of Minerva as I gathered up my things and got ready to go down to breakfast.  So I slipped the phone into the pocket of my school blazer, hoping for some inspiration before I had to pass through the school’s metal detector.  That inspiration struck me as Henry drove me to school.  I knew it was risky, but I slipped the phone under the floor mat in the back seat of the limo. I assumed Henry would pick me up after school and that no one would find my phone before then.

Sure enough, Henry was there to pick me up after school, and my phone was still where I had left it.  As Henry started the car, I pretended to tie my shoe, picked up my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. 

Henry was silent as he drove past the road where he normally turned to head toward the mansion.  When he turned onto Route 65 toward the city, I started to get excited. 

“Uh, where are you taking me, Henry?”  I tried to look serious.

“Surprise, Jenny.  You’re on your way to a modest home in Bethel Park.”

I cringed a little at his familiarity.  Had I gotten so used to the divide between masters and servants that this should bother me?  A few days ago I would have insisted that he call me by my first name, and I would have insisted on calling him Mr. Whatever.  After all, Henry is a grown man, probably in his fifties.

“No reaction?  I thought you’d be jumping out of your seatbelt with joy after hearing that news.”  He smiled at the rearview mirror.  Maybe he’s really not a bad sort after all.  “Do you want to call your father, or are you planning to surprise him?”

I froze for a second.  Had he discovered my phone in the car after all?

Henry continued, “Just lift the cover on the armrest.  The car phone is in there.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  “That’s all right, Henry.  I think I’ll surprise him.” 

“Suit yourself, Miss.”

My curiosity was piqued.  “Henry, did you say ‘car phone?’  I thought they only existed in movies from the 1980s.”

Henry laughed.  “Not one of those dinosaurs.  No, Mr. Zingerman keeps an extra cell phone in that compartment.  Its number is assigned to the limo.  Maybe he uses it when he doesn’t want someone to recognize the number.”  He chuckled.  “Don’t tell him I said that.”

We continued to drive toward my father’s house.  We passed through downtown Pittsburgh and headed toward the South Hills via the Liberty Tubes.

“Hey, do you mind answering a question?” Henry asked.   “I mean, I understand that you might be coming back, so if my question makes you uncomfortable, just say so.”

“Okay, Henry.  Go ahead and ask.”

“Well, I don’t mean to offend, but let me put it this way.  Mr. Zingerman and your mother are rich.  I mean, really rich.  That house alone is probably worth like five million dollars.  Maybe a lot more.  And you’re family.” Henry paused a moment, then continued.  “Doesn’t it make you feel good to be a part of that?  Aren’t you tempted by that life?”  He chuckled.  “You know, your mom was asking me about cars that would be good for you to take to college.  She’d probably buy you one if you decided to stay with her.”

I thought for a moment.  “A life of luxury is very tempting, Henry.  But since you and my mom brought me here last Saturday, I’ve felt more like a prisoner than anything else.”  I paused.  “I have to admit the prison is very posh.  I’m not sure how I’d feel if I were living there under different circumstances.  But love and friendship mean much more to me than a big house and nice clothes – and even a shiny, new car.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Miss Jennifer.”  Henry continued toward Bethel Park.

I leaned forward.  “You know what I wish, Henry?”

“What’s that, Miss?”

“I wish my parents would figure out some way to get along.  I don’t like them fighting a war over me.”

“I can understand that.”  Henry turned onto our street and drove up to my dad’s house.  “Well, here we are.  Home sweet home.  I’m hoping I haven’t seen the last of you, Miss Jennifer.  I’ve got a twelve-year old daughter.  I hope she turns out as well as you.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Henry.  Thanks for the ride.  I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” I reached for the door handle, but Henry wagged his finger at me to stop.  He was going to insist on giving me the full chauffeur treatment.

He got my backpack out of the trunk and then opened the door for me.  Henry tipped his cap as I bounded past him up the walk to the front door.  I waved to him as he got back into the car.  I pressed the doorbell.  He waited in the car until he saw the front door open.  Dad wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe.  Then again, he might have had the same problem as I hugged him back.