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Previous chapters of the River Road story:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
How should the story continue? Voting is open on the current chapter!
Last time, when Annie was about to offer to drive Mia Duomo back to her hotel, she became angry when Mia arrogantly assumed that the Trotters were offering to let her stay at the mansion. Annie tried to explain, but was constantly interrupted by Mia who continued talking—making comments about Annie’s false teeth among other things. Throughout all of this, Annie remained calm. However, Annie’s patience was tested when, upon explaining that their houseguest was a homeless woman that they found in Juniper Hill, Mia Duomo suggested that the woman would steal from the Trotters. Annie was outraged and reminded Mia that before she married Uriah Trotter, Annie was homeless herself. Hurt and insulted, Annie had reached her limit and wanted nothing more than to tell Mia Duomo exactly what she thought. Did Annie keep her cool or did she unleash her anger on Mia? Here’s what you decided.
Chapter 11:
History Class
Uriah put his arm around his wife.
“Mia Duomo, we were just going to offer to help you. We’ve always tried to help you. Miss Whiteside was only offering to help you, too. We’ve all been nothing but patient and kind…” Annie paused.
She wanted to tell Mia exactly what she thought. She wanted to tell Mia that no one cared that she had been a model. She wanted to say that no one thought Mia was famous, that no one thought she was exceptionally beautiful. Annie wanted to shout that Mia was rude—whether she meant to be or not. And, most importantly, she wanted to say that she took back her offer to drive Mia to her hotel and that she never wanted to see Mia again.
However, something inside Annie worried that she’d hurt Mia’s feelings and she certainly didn’t want to be as rude as Mia had been.
Uriah squeezed his wife’s shoulders. Annie looked up at Uriah and smiled at him.
Uriah’s gentle eyes reminded Annie that everything was all right. With just one look, she remembered that life was good, that she was loved and had people to love and that, if anything, life had taught her to be patient and kind.
Annie continued to smile. She even smiled at Mia Duomo.
“Miss Duomo,” Annie said after a few seconds. “As I said, we just want to help you. If you’d like a ride back to your hotel, then Uriah and I would be glad to take you.”
“Oh, well.” Mia Duomo sighed. “Yes, I would like a ride back to the hotel. Thank you. I do hope that…” Mia paused.
“What do you hope, Mia?” Mrs. Conn asked gently.
Mia looked from face to face. She let her shoulders stoop a little bit and, for a moment, she didn’t even look like the tall, rigid former model.
“Sometimes,” Mia said softly in a voice that didn’t sound like her usual way of speaking, “I talk too much.” Mia looked at the ground. “I knew.” She shook her head. “I knew that Annie had been homeless.” She looked at Annie. “I know all about the difficult life you’ve had. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You have survived it all—elegantly, bravely and finely. I admire that. You’ve faced every challenge without pretending…” She paused again. “Without…” Mia shook her head.
Everyone stood silently, watching Mia.
Mia Duomo took a deep breath. “It’s just that my life hasn’t always been easy either. My daughter is not a well person. That’s my fault. I know that. My life…” Mia couldn’t continue talking.
She stiffened up—standing tall and proud as if she were about to walk down a catwalk modeling a gorgeous gown. She shook her head so that her hair danced. “Forgive me.” She said in her usual voice, deep and mannered. “Well, as I was saying, my life is just fabulous. Really, everything about my life is just wonderfully, fabulously beautiful. After all, I’m Mia Duomo.”
“Former fashion model.” Miss Trotter mumbled, knowing very well what Mia would say next.
“That’s right, Violet.” Mia smiled her usual big photogenic smile. “And, really, who else would I want to be? After all, I’ve led a fascinating life. And, really, it is time for me to go back to the hotel for my beauty sleep—not that I need any. A photographer once told me that if I were any more beautiful his camera would cry.”
“What does that mean?” Eben asked.
“I don’t even know, Vincent!” Mia laughed. “But, isn’t it all too, too, too, tooooooo wonderful?”
“Okay.” Eben nodded, not bothering to remind her that his name wasn’t Vincent.
“So, as much as it pains me to do it, I must take my leave and bid all of you an incredibly, spectacularly Mia-Duomo-style evening. All right? Wonderful! Kisses and hugs! I’ll see all of you tomorrow. Mrs. Conn, don’t forget that I really want to talk with you about the building on the corner.”
“I won’t forget.” Mrs. Conn forced herself to smile.
“And, you DeLorcas, I’m sure we can all work something out about the building. Something truly beautiful!” Mia continued.
“Sure.” Mrs. DeLorca nodded.
“I say, I’ve just figured it out.” Mr. DeLorca spoke up—his eyes wide.
“What’s that?” Mrs. DeLorca asked her husband.
“I remember now what that Mia Duomo person reminds me of.” Mr. DeLorca exclaimed.
“Oh, do tell!” Mia clapped her hands.
“A pie.” Mr. DeLorca nodded.
“Surprising.” Miss Trotter smirked.
“Yes, yes. On one of our travels, my lovely wife and I happened upon an open-air pie stand somewhere on the highway. Well, being as I am a great supporter of open-air pie stands all over the world, of course we had to pull over and sample their wares. Can’t be too kind to the pie people, you know. And, by ‘pie people’ I don’t mean people made of pie though that would be quite interesting. Delicious people, those pie people. Nevertheless, on this particular excursion we had a pie that was just the crust-and-filling double for you, Miss Duomo.” Mr. DeLorca said excitedly.
“What’s he talking about? I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Mia Duomo began.
“My father is comparing you to pie.” Eben smiled.
“How nice.” Mia nodded slowly. “I think.”
“Well,” Eben said quickly, “My father does appreciate a good pie.”
“I do. True. True.” Mr. DeLorca nodded.
“All right then.” Mia said. “It’s time for me to go. Good night to all, you lovely little people. I’m ready for that ride now.”
“Our pleasure.” Annie nodded politely.
“We’ll be back after we check on Eugenia Victoria.” Uriah smiled.
“If she feels up to it, bring her back with you. We’ll be here for a little while.” Mrs. DeLorca added.
“Yes, we will, too. Our parents said it was all right.” Kathy said excitedly.
“We’ll see.” Uriah said.
With that, Mia, Uriah and Annie walked off to Uriah’s car. Mia chattered all the way.
“Father,” Eben turned to Mr. DeLorca. “I’m surprised that you compared Mia Duomo to a pie. I know how you appreciate a good pie.”
“That’s just it,” Mr. DeLorca smiled. “I appreciate a good pie. But, that Duomo woman reminds me of a particular pie. It was filled with whipped ham. Not a good pie, that.”
Mrs. DeLorca laughed. “Now, now, Joel. Let’s be nice.”
“Very well, my dear.” Mr. DeLorca smiled.
Miss Whiteside sighed. “So, you all know that woman?”
“We do.” Mrs. Conn nodded.
“She’s…interesting.” Miss Whiteside giggled.
“I hope she didn’t tire you out.” Mrs. Conn continued.
“She did, actually.” Miss Whiteside smiled.
“Oh, and here we are about to ask you for a favor.” Mrs. Conn shook her head.
“What did you want?” Miss Whiteside asked.
“We were wondering if it would be possible to visit the museum.” Mrs. Conn explained. “You see, we have some questions about Theodosia Westwick.”
“Westwick?” Miss Whiteside’s eyes widened. “What could I possibly tell you about Theodosia Westwick?”
“The contents of the Westwick mansion were all brought to the museum before the house was demolished. Isn’t that correct?” Mrs. DeLorca asked.
“Yes. Except for a few pieces that we have on loan for a display at the hotel that was built on the land where the Westwick Mansion once stood, we have everything from the mansion, yes.” Miss Whiteside answered.
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Conn said quickly. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce you. Joel and Joan DeLorca, this is Bonnie Whiteside.”
“Oh. You’re those DeLorcas! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re very famous in the art world.” Miss Whiteside said humbly.
“Well, I say, thank you. Nice to meet you, too. May all your days be filled with tomatoes and cherry filling.” Mr. DeLorca shook the curator’s hand.
“Um, thank you.” Miss Whiteside nodded.
“And, this,” Mrs. Conn continued, “is their son, Ebenezer.”
“Hello.” Eben shook Miss Whiteside’s hand.
“The antique dealer? Well, you’re quite well known, too.” Miss Whiteside grinned. “It’s an honor. So, you’re all interested in the Westwick collection.”
“Especially her journals” Sarah added.
“I’ll be happy to give you a private viewing. Just come by tomorrow morning.” Miss Whiteside said. “It would be my pleasure.”
“We were hoping to get a look tonight.” Mrs. DeLorca explained.
“Tonight?” Miss Whiteside raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t know.”
What should happen next?
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