By contrast, Five Rocks had the Reading Room, where people tossed the
books and periodicals they had no use for. It was in a rickety shed in back of the
post office, which itself was nothing but an old store room behind the Brewster
house. As for ice cream, a few times each spring Mrs. Monroe over at the
boarding house froze up a batch. The children lined up outside her back door, each clutching three pennies and their own dish and spoon. Olivia had no friends
to come whistle for her, so she was usually last in line, but Mrs. Monroe always
made sure there was a scoop left for her.
When Olivia arrived home from Mr. Carmichael’s office she found Mrs.
Hardaway working the pump handle over the kitchen sink. The housekeeper was
a big, even-tempered woman, wide and solid, with a plain square face. A few strands of graying brown hair had escaped the bun at the crown of her head.
“Oh, there you are, dear,” she said as she turned. “Tobey said he thought
you’d gone out for a walk. Awful cold out there. You’d better sit yourself down
and get something hot in you.” She nodded toward the kettle humming on the
iron stove.
“No thank you, maybe later.”
Olivia removed her boots and soggy socks and put on the colorful house
slippers Mrs. Hardaway had knitted from leftover bits of yarn. Then she went up
to her room, where she closed and latched the door. She pulled a heavy flannel
robe on over her dress and tried to blow some warmth into her cupped hands.
Then she removed a battered knife from the top drawer of her bureau, got down
on her hands and knees, and opened the tiny door that led into the small attic under the eaves.
She crawled in, batting cobwebs from her hair and face and blowing them out
of her mouth. Feeling in the dark, she shoved a canvas satchel aside, used the knife to pry up two loose floorboards, and retrieved a red velvet bag. She backed
out and sat on her heels, beating small flurries of dust from the bag. Then she took it to her bed and poured out a stream of gold coins. Three years ago, before
a horse kicked him in the head and killed him, her Uncle Scruggs had shown Olivia where he kept the red sack hidden, tacked to the bottom of his overstuffed
chair.
“That money will always be there waiting on you, Olivia,” he’d told her more
than once. “When my time arrives, I want you to come get it, before the
buzzards swoop down and clear this place out. Please. You always been my
favorite – nearest thing to a child of my own. No one else knows about it and there ain’t no reason for you to tell no one. I been saving it for you, and it ain’t
nobody’s business but yours.”
Since Uncle Scruggs’ death Olivia had kept the coins hidden under the
floorboards. She hadn’t spent a penny and checked every few months to make
sure they were still there. Then one evening Tobey had knocked on the door
while the money was spread on the bed, and she’d let him in and told him where
she’d gotten it.
Now she wondered if that had been unkind. Uncle Scruggs had given this
money to her, and their father had left all his property to Avis; only Tobey had
received nothing. She frowned, thinking, I should give half of this to Tobey.
That’s only fair.
