Too Many Cooks

We’re Not in Kansas Anymore - Chapter 6

Previously

In the house next door, Theo put down his night vision binoculars and picked up his cell phone, touching a digit from his speed dial list. His call was answered after only one ring.

“I think we need to move on this situation. I’ve lost contact with Mike.” Theo listened intently to the voice at the other end. “I’m pretty sure she clocked him,” he said, stifling a laugh at the thought of Mike being knocked out by an elderly woman. “She had two visitors today: one was ours and one was a local police officer.” Again, he listened. “Just alert the team. I’ll contact the daughters. That will be the tricky part. It always is.”

Theo flipped the cell phone closed, put it back on his desk, and massaged his forehead with his fingers, trying to rub some ideas into being. This was going to be messy and complicated, but he had handled crazier situations. He was sorry that the end of this job would mean another move for his own family, but that was how life had been during his illustrious career as a caretaker and clean up man for the organization.

It would be less alarming for her daughters if he called them in the morning. It also gave him the easy way out in trying to explain things, and after decades on the job, he preferred the easy way. He unlocked his bottom desk drawer, removed a binder, and flipped it to the page that contained the information he needed. 

*****

The following morning, at Theo’s request, the daughters arrived at their childhood home. He had said it was nothing urgent, but he usually alerted them by phone if Mom had been up to something. He had never before asked for a meeting.

They let themselves in at the back, as usual. The house was quiet and their mother didn’t respond when they called. The younger daughter saw a large envelope on the kitchen table with their names carefully printed on it. “This can’t be good,” was all she said before opening the envelope. She removed a sheaf of legal documents topped by a letter from Theo. The sisters sat down and started to read.

“I know you’re wondering what is going on, why I asked for a meeting, and most importantly, why your mother isn’t here. The explanation follows; please keep an open mind as you read.

My family and I moved here right after your father died. I remember telling you that I relocated here because of my job. That is true. What I didn’t tell you was that my job was to keep an eye on your mother.

Before you were born, your mother held a secretarial job. She thought she was working for the public works system. She was trained and did her job well. What she didn’t realize was that she was actually involved in borderline espionage for our agency. She transferred code from one system to another. It was minor, low clearance work, but it paid well.”

“That’s preposterous!” The younger daughter blurted out. The older daughter giggled.

“Your father also worked for the agency, but in a much deeper capacity. His ‘business trips’ were very lucrative ‘information gathering jaunts,’ and even though he was debriefed thoroughly after every trip, we had a feeling that he may have told your mother about some of his, shall we say, adventures. You girls never knew that he was traveling in other countries, but she did.

When your father died, we planted listening devices in the house as a normal precaution. Things were fine until your mother started to show signs of dementia. We picked up conversations she had, thinking that your father was still here. We heard her discussing details of trips that should not have been in her memory. We realized that this could put her in danger, should anyone, including the two of you, hear them and perhaps mention them in conversation. Governments always walk a fine line where espionage is concerned; our agency cannot afford more negative press right now.

Yesterday, things came to a head. Your mother had a very busy day. She first attempted to knock out one of our agents when the woman came to check on her in the afternoon. It seems your mother brews her own special blend of tea, and it is very potent. She actually succeeded in sedating one of the local police officers a few hours ago. Luckily, the female agent was still here, dining with my family, and we were making a late night of it. She smoothed things over with the officer. He thinks she’s the social worker assigned to your mother’s case. She told him that your mother accidentally put some of her medication into the tea. She has told me before that your mother reminds her of Martha from “Arsenic and Old Lace.” Actually, that story sounded plausible, considering your mother’s current mental state. Another agent was cold cocked by your mother with a tea kettle and she rolled him down the basement steps. He had just found the police officer and was afraid something had happened to your mother. When he went upstairs to check, she was ready for him.

The agency, can’t allow your mother to continue to live in the house and possibly jeopardize some operations that are still in place. We have moved her to a facility where she can be cared for and will be free to say whatever she wants without potentially bringing harm to herself or her country.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! Mom? Dad? Espionage? I think perhaps Theo needs his medication levels checked. I don’t think he can just swoop in and take Mom away without our permission. Where is he, anyway?” The older sister stood up, prepared to go next door and face Theo, but sat down again when her sister motioned to the legal documents under the letter.

“Remember when she first told you about intruders? She was right. We had people who would go in from time to time to check on her, and to make sure the listening devices were still operational. It’s a good thing you two didn’t believe her and start snooping around. We have excellent psychiatric staff on board, and they will work with her and make her transition as smooth as possible. You’ll see that all of the documents are in order and all arrangements have been made. By the time you have gone through them, I’ll be back and will take you to see your mother. If, after seeing her, you are still uncomfortable with the situation, the agency will work with you to make things right.”

Time passed as the daughters scanned the various documents in the packet. Everything seemed to be covered, and every document had signature lines for the two of them. At least events did not seem to be set in stone. Decisions could be made once they saw their mother and spoke with Theo in person. Until then, all they had was a pile of documents and Theo’s strange, unbelievable letter.

“So,” the younger daughter said, “I guess we wait for Theo. Then we’ll go to see our own little Mata Hari.”

“Who would’ve ever thought it?” asked the older daughter. “While we wait, why don’t we have a pot of tea?”

The women looked at the unmarked canisters on the counter.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” said the younger daughter. “I think we should stick to water from the kitchen faucet.”

“Good idea. Let’s go sit on the glider and wait. Once Theo gets here, I’m going to need some caffeine. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.” The older daughter pulled two glasses out of a cabinet, filled them from the faucet, and gave one to her sister as they left the kitchen.

It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

We’re Not in Kansas Anymore - Chapter 5

I woke from a little nappy at the kitchen table and saw I’d poured myself two cups of tea. I must have been awfully tired not to realize I’d already set one out for myself. No matter. I just put those two little cups on the sideboard so I could clean them in the morning. Time for bedily-by.

I walked to the front of the house to check the latch and bell on the door. I took a glance through the peephole and saw a patrol car parked out front. That’s odd. I wonder if the neighbor has gotten into some hot water. His daughter is very sweet and tinkles the piano well for her age, but the father does seem to have visitors at all hours. I pushed aside the curtain on the side window and saw another car parked on the street and shook my head thinking what trouble that nice man could have gotten into. “I’ll bet he has gotten into something nefarious,” I said to no one in particular. “Nefarious, nefurious, and furry us!” I giggled at my little poem and put the curtain back in its place.

I saw a bit of cobweb on my husband’s old cardigan and decided it must be time to wash it again so I walked back to toward the laundry room.

I opened the linen closet to make sure all the pipes were in place. I touched them in order from tallest to smallest and decided tomorrow I’d put them to their intended use. Perhaps I’d even invite the neighbor girl over for a little duet of organ and piano.

I glanced down and saw a fresh scuff mark on the wall. It looked like the intruders dragged something big along the floor and it bumped the wall. I bent down and spit on my thumb and tried to rub the scuff mark away. I’m going to catch those naughty intruders one of these days, and then I might just make them paint all these marks they have left on my nice clean white walls. But for now, I managed to clean a little of the scuff off with my thumb. That will just have to do.

As I got back up, I felt a little nip in the air. Fortunately I have the sweater my husband used to wear around the house to keep me warm. Thinking a nice cup of tea might take the rest of the chill off, I went to the kitchen to put a kettle on to boil.

I had just filled the kettle when I heard one of the bells ringing. I got gooseflesh from the sound but knew I needed to be brave. I would finally prove to my daughters that the intruders were real and then they wouldn’t send me back to The Place.

I held the kettle high above my head and slinked into the hallway. The ringing of the bell was louder. I saw the handle to the cellar door shaking. I took a deep breath and stood next to the door. Suddenly, it flew open and a man came tumbling into the hallway! I swung the teakettle as hard as I could and hit him on the head. He crumpled to the floor and I quickly dragged him back to the top of the cellar stairs and rolled him down into the dark.

I latched the cellar door and went to make myself a cup of tea.

We’re Not In Kansas Anymore - Chapter 4

Previously

I pressed my ear up to the door and listened as hard as I could. There was nothing to be heard. I peered through the window. There was nothing to be seen. Getting locked out of my own home twice in a week was not good. I hoped that my daughters would not find out. They would not care or even believe that this time it was not my fault. This was rather bothersome.

I was feeling somewhat shaken as I sat back down on the glider. It was a little cooler this evening so I wrapped my husband’s cardigan tightly around me. I liked watching the stars come out as the day disappeared. I sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to myself. It helped me to feel calm. My mother used to sing it to me when I was a little girl. My Father made me go into the cellar if he thought I’d been naughty. I didn’t like it there. Mother sang to help me feel better. That was such a long time ago.

Eventually my nerves settled down so I made myself comfortable on the glider. It was a bit too early to go to sleep so I passed the time by creating my own constellations with the stars. That group looked like a little sailing boat. The ones over there reminded me of a castle. My favourites were the ones that looked like a puppy chasing its tail. I couldn’t help but giggle.

I must have drifted off to sleep as the next thing I knew a light was shining in my face. “Ma’am? Are you alright?” I held my hand up to my eyes. A young police officer was pointing his torch at me. He looked very handsome in his crisp uniform.

“I’m fine, officer,” I replied as I pushed myself into a sitting position. “What brings you here?” Although still feeling a little drowsy I remembered to smile.

“One of your neighbours reported that your lights were still on. They thought that was a bit odd as it’s the middle of the night so called to let us know of their concern. I was in the area so thought I’d check in on you.”

“Oh dear me! What a bother I am. I locked myself out of my house earlier. I didn’t mean to put anyone out.”

“It’s no bother, ma’am. Now let’s see if I can help you get back into your home.” He walked to the back door and turned the handle. The door swung open. “It appears to be unlocked, ma’am.”

The intruders were clearly trying to make me look foolish. I would not let them get the better of me. I kept the smile on my face. “I’m so sorry officer, wasting your time like this. You must think me a frightfully silly old thing!”

“Not at all, ma’am. My shift’s just finishing and I’m glad to be able to help. Now, let’s get you inside.” He helped me up and gently assisted me into the house. Such a kind young man.

“I think I need a cup of tea to warm my bones. Would you care for a cup, officer? I would feel better if I had someone to sit with me for a little while.”

I noticed that he glanced at his watch. Then he nodded. “That would be much appreciated, ma’am.”

“Thank you officer. You have been most kind. I shall use my good cups.” I readied two tea pots. I put ordinary tea in the one for me. “I make my own special blend,” I told him as I prepared the other pot. “I do hope you like it.”

We’re Not In Kansas Anymore - Chapter 3

I was not expecting the knock on my door, but I can’t say I was surprised, either. I scuffed from the kitchen where my tea was brewing to the front door, and I spied with my little eye a nice yet official-looking lady in a monochrome suit. A suited woman at your door in a long strand of faux-pearls during broad daylight is never a good sign.

I did not want to open the door. I was in my housecoat and sometimes-sly slippers, but I knew this lovely woman was probably here for some official purpose that could result in my going back to The Place if I didn’t answer the door as she would expect.

Opening the door with my best phony smile, I said hello. I tried to say hello. My voice cracked because I had not spoken yet today, so I sounded more like a strangling bullfrog. It was an interesting sound, and I may have thought about it a beat too long as Lovely Lady stared at me enquiringly.

“Hello there! How may I help you?” Oh, the cheer in my bullfroggy voice. No one could deny I was alert and perky.

“Are you alright?” asked Lovely Lady. “Of course! I merely had a little froggy in my throat. May I help you?” Remain pleasant, I told myself. Keep the smile. Remain pleasant remainpleasant.

“I’m Viola, from the township social services department. May I come in?”

“Why certainly!” I replied perkily. “I was just making my morning tea, would you like a cup? Please excuse the clutter. I’ve not started my cleaning yet.” I was starting to feel the familiar cheek-ache of a forced smile. I led Lovely Lady Viola to the kitchen, where my tea sat waiting, and far too strong.

I washed up and took my worn clothes to the laundry room. Finally, enough for a load! I started the washing machine with glee. I love the sound of the water shooting into the tub. It is such a refreshing sound, like standing next to a waterfall. I pulled up a kitchen chair to listen while I looked out the big windows into the sunshine.

The knock of a small hand increasing in intensity snapped me out of my eye resting. It is a good thing my kitchen chairs have arms on them, or I might have fallen to the floor as I was lulled by the washer waterfall. I opened the door to little neighbor girl. She wanted to play the piano yet again. I did not mind. She plays fairly well, and I quite enjoy watching her chubby fingers on the keys.

After about half an hour I was scooting her out the door. “Your father will not be happy with me if you are late for dinner, dear.” It was pretty early for dinner, but I had tired of the plinking and was ready for her to go.

“Whose car is that?” she asked on her way out the door. “Why I don’t know, dear. I thought someone was visiting your house. Now scoot on home and tell your father I said hello!” Before she could ask any more questions, I shut the door tight and locked it. Two visitors in one day were enough for me lately.

I walked toward the kitchen, thinking that even though I wasn’t very hungry maybe I should eat a piece of bread or something to keep from getting in that not-eating trouble again. I peeped into the linen closet at the pipes, so orderly and covered with just the finest layer of dust. The dust adds character, I have to admit. I bypassed the kitchen and went to the glider. It was such a lovely afternoon, why waste it eating bread?

I heard the bell. It jangled insistently as dusk came on. I started and leapt out of the glider as gracefully as a lame elephant and headed toward the door. I was going to catch that invader once and for all. I saw the kitchen light flip on and just as I neared the doorjamb, the door slammed in my face. I had gooseflesh and my hair stood on end, but I tried the handle. I was locked out again. This was not going to be good.

We’re Not in Kansas Anymore - Chapter 2

Previously

I woke this morning without a wrinkle in the sheets, knowing that the day was starting as it should and I smiled. My feet missed the slippers by the side of the bed and my toes were tickled by the coolness of the floor. They really should stay put, but slippers have a sly side at times. I was in no rush this morning so I just pulled on my husband’s old navy blue cardigan. As I walked down the hallway I stopped at the linen closet, peeked in and smiled again. I ran my hands lightly over the collection of long pipes and shorter pipes. Soon it would be time to put the organ back together. I long for the day when things are back the way they should be. But first I needed to make some breakfast. It is still the most important meal of the day.

Waiting for the toast to pop up I noticed an itch around my shoulders that made me squirm beneath the knitted sweater. I remained focused on the toaster since it had been known to burn things at times. And there’s just no fixing burnt toast. But the itching continued to nag at me. I thought that it must be time for this sweater to have a bath. I would put it in the hamper once the morning chill had lifted.

Shortly after breakfast, Charlie arrived. I had been letting the dear boy deliver my groceries for almost a year now. He needed the money. He was working to save up enough to go to one of those technical schools to learn to be a mechanic after he finished high school. I like Charlie. He’s a sweet boy. His hair gets a little too long at times and he has to brush it out of his face to look me in the eyes. It would help if he held his head up more too. But he’s a sweet boy and he’s going to be a good mechanic.

Charlie always comes in the front door of the house, as do all of my invited guests. He keeps asking me if I wouldn’t rather he come around to the back door. From there he could just walk through the long laundry room that stretches across the back of the house. That’s my room though, with the washer and dryer and big picture windows whose sills are full of small potted plants. It leads right into the kitchen and so I suppose I see his point but it’s just not right. Guests enter from the front and so that’s how we proceed with the weekly deliveries. Only this week things didn’t go as smoothly as usual.

I was leading the way back to the kitchen when I heard that dreaded bell ringing. Spinning around I saw Charlie stooped down, the two big brown paper bags crunched into his left arm and half-balanced on his knee as he was picking something up. His face turned bright red and he started sputtering out apologies and assurances that it was an accident and that he hadn’t scratched the door or anything. He grabbed at the bell to steady and silent it. I could feel my heart pounding nearly out of my chest and I tried my best to control my breathing. Maybe Charlie had grazed the bell. His view was partially obstructed by the groceries.

We continued into the kitchen and the very shaken boy managed to get the bags onto the kitchen table without further incident. He then reached over and placed two pills on the table in front of me. “I found these on the floor,” he managed to blurt out. His breathing now almost matching mine. “Well, I have to go. I’m really sorry about before.” I was stunned and didn’t even respond as Charlie scurried back through the house and out the door. I don’t think I blinked until after I heard the front door latch slip into place with a secure metal clink. “Pills don’t belong there,” I explained to the ether as I picked them up.

A smile started to slip back onto my face as I entered the laundry room. Dozens of pots of rosemary lined the windowsill farthest from the doorway. I rubbed one of the branches between my fingers and then inhaled the scent. My breathing slowed as I took the pocketed pills from the cardigan cave they were tucked into. I lovingly pressed one pill into the soil of the third pot in the lineup and another in the fourth. “That’s where pills belong,” I said as I inhaled the aroma of my fingers, now a mix of herb and dirt. Looking out of the window at the bluing sky with scattered fluffy clouds I shrugged out of the sweater and tossed it into the washer. “When there’s enough for a load, we’ll start that up.”

We’re Not in Kansas Anymore - Chapter 1

            I do not recall when I first noticed the changes. All I know is one day, I realized that every time I walked into the kitchen, the refrigerator started running. It did not matter if it was morning, afternoon, or evening. If I entered the kitchen, the humming sound kicked in, almost as if to acknowledge my presence.

            There were the bathroom lights, too. This was subtler, but it most definitely happened. If I undressed, the lights became brighter. It was as if the lights were giggling at the sight of my sagging, wrinkled skin. I giggled, too.

            I did not tell anyone, especially my daughters. They always wore a worried expression around me, even though they smiled. I made the mistake of telling them about the intruders. See, someone came into the house and made marks on the wall in the hall above the baseboard. I pointed these out to my daughters, and they said that the marks had been there for years. They said the marks were from furniture or the vacuum banging into the wall. They may believe that, but I know better. I checked the lock on the door to the basement and I hung a bell on the doorknob to alert me to any intruders that might try to enter that way.

            I did not tell anyone about the telephone calls that happened sometimes at night. The phone would ring, I would answer, and no one would speak. I just stopped answering the phone after sunset. One of my daughters asked why I would not answer when she called at night. I told her I was tired, went to bed early, and did not want to talk. She stopped calling at night.

            The reason I did not tell anyone is because of The Place. I do not know the name of it, so I just call it The Place. Last year, one of my daughters took me to The Place and I had to stay there for a week. She said that I was making myself sick. She didn’t understand that I was not hungry and did not feel like sleeping. There is nothing wrong with that. Maybe I forgot to change clothes or shower; I do not remember. The Place was nice, but I wanted to be in my home. The doctors at The Place took blood and gave me medicine. I followed their directions, because I am not stupid. I knew that if I wanted to go home, I had to be a good patient.

            When they let me go home, I took the medicine until it made me feel weird. Then I stopped taking it. Sometimes, I would remember to throw out the pills so my daughters would think I took it when they came to visit and started looking in my cabinets.

            The problem now is that three days ago, I went out onto the back porch and closed the door behind me. When I tried to go back inside, I could not because the door was locked. I did not want to bother anyone, so I just sat on the glider and looked around. The back porch was glassed in. When night came, it was still warm and the glider was comfortable. I had on the sweater my husband wore around the house when he was alive and it kept me comfortable. I was hungry, but I stretched out on the glider cushion and sang until I forgot about my stomach. Eventually, I fell asleep.

            The next morning, the little girl from next door came over to play my piano, and she was not happy when I told her that we could not go inside to play because the door was locked. She went home. She told her father, and he came over with her. He was able to open my kitchen door and I thanked him for helping me.

            I am afraid he will tell my daughters and they will want me to go back to The Place. I will tell them that people get locked out of houses and cars all of the time and they will say that when that happens, people normally go and get help. They do not understand that I do not like to bother anyone. People are busy and I do not like to ask for help. It all worked out and I am fine. It was an adventure.

            It is time to get ready for bed. I wear a pair of my husband’s pajamas; they make me feel as if he is still here. I check the bell on the basement door, and then I check the shelves in the linen closet. The empty paper towel rolls and toilet paper rolls are lined neatly on the shelves. There is order in my world. The intruders will not come tonight.