Part 6

Chapter 18

Where was it? Butterworth Court, on the map, was about a mile from the railway station, near the center of Bristol. In the damp cold, Robin had noticed as they walked along the streets the old town had absolutely none of the charm she had expected from an English village. Diane’s hopeful spirit had obviously dissipated with every step along the dull grey streets.  But they weren’t here for sightseeing, Robin thought and looked again at the map to figure out if they were on the right route  to Butterworth Court.

It didn’t take long before Robin and her mother grew uneasy. Diane hadn’t said a word for nearly a half hour. Robin didn’t know how to sound upbeat. The roads were quiet on this ugly afternoon and there didn’t seem to be a taxi in sight. After a long hour of walking, they arrived at the right street. 

“Butterworth Court!” Diane exclaimed at seeing the street sign. She hurried across the street and looked into the short cul de sac.

Robin was convinced the address had to be wrong. All of these buildings were plain brown boxes, ugly things designed for function rather than form. These couldn’t be homes. The sign at number 2, beside garish purple doors, said these were City Council offices. Businesses ran down either side of the cul de sac – and there was no 1203 anywhere.

“The address isn’t here,” Robin said. “It can’t be right. I wouldn’t even know what door to knock on. Want to stop in the City Council offices? Maybe someone there could help?”

Robin shoved the map into her shoulder bag and wrapped her scarf tighter against the cold. Her sore feet knew she had been walking a long time. She turned at her mother  when she didn’t answer. Instead, she seemed to be staring at some distant spot down the street. “Mom, are you all right?” Robin said, tucking her hand around her mother’s arm.

“We’ve come all this way for nothing, Robin,” she said, turning to look at her daughter. “I’ve brought you here for nothing. Whatever made me think we’d find her?”

Diane’s well-tailored façade seemed to crumble as the tears came. Robin was surprised to see her mother shudder and begin to fall as the full weight of her sadness came upon her. Robin wrapped her arm around her mother, patting her mother as she used to comfort a younger Robin. 

“We tried, Mom. We tried everything we could think of.” Robin sighed, feeling the hurt again. “I wish she’d been here, too.”

The two women stood there staring at Butterworth Court, darkening in the twilight. Robin didn’t think she could take another step on this search. And she knew she couldn’t drag her mother along. Standing there was all they could do right now. Robin felt defeated. 

She hadn’t even wanted to come, she thought with a touch of anger welling up in her. Eleanor didn’t want to be found – if Eleanor was even alive. Robin had seen the pictures. She’d talked to be people who knew her. Why did they know her sister? Why hadn’t she come home? Why hadn’t she contacted her own mother?

Anger brought strength and Robin straightened herself up, squared her shoulders and patted her mother.

“Enough is enough, Mother,” she said. “We have to stop this. You know we do.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as if that would lessen the pain of what she was saying. “For us, Eleanor is gone.” 

A light drizzle began to fall on the two women standing frozen there on the street. “Come on, Mom. It’s raining. Let’s get you out of the rain. How about some tea?”

“How about a beer?” her mother said, forcing a smile.

Chapter 19

As the plane touched down at BWI Airport, Robin and her mother agreed to make more regular visits. Robin promised she’d visit Havre de Grace the next weekend. She hugged her mother at the curb. Andrew was there to take her mother back to Havre de Grace. She was catching the light rail into the city.

Spring had begun to make its appearance while she was away. The grass was greener, she noticed as the train sped toward town. And crocuses were everywhere, turning drab patches purple and gold. The sky here was still gray as London’s but to Robin it felt so much better than she expected. As she watched the familiar sights go by, Robin pondered the meaning of their strange two weeks in England. They hadn’t found Eleanor or her daughter or even her husband. But despite the pain they felt standing there on a dreary Bristol street, they couldn’t shake the feeling they were going to find Ellen. All they had to decide was whether they wanted to keep looking. 

Oh well, Robin thought as she arrived in front of her rowhouse. She somehow didn’t feel so alone anymore. The sight of that pink Formstone house cheered her. After the elegant townhouses of Notting Hill, she even felt like laughing out loud. There was no pretension in her grandmother’s house. As it had always been, it was a sturdy little shelter. 

Robin dragged her heavy suitcase full of new clothes into the foyer and looked up at her sister’s photographs. Maybe I didn’t find you, sister dear, but our mother made me find a killer wardrobe. And maybe we found each other, too.

She was still wearing her coat when the doorbell rang.

“Jim!” Robin was surprised to see her handsome neighbor at her door.

“Hon, I’ve missed you,” he said, using the local slang term of endearment.

“Hon, how nice to see you too,” Robin said. “Come in.” She closed the door behind her visitor, her tall, attractive visitor and took a good look as he admired the photographs. She smiled and made herself breathe. What a surprise. She’d dreamed of inviting him into her house many times. Now he was here. Now what!

“The truth is, Robin, I’ve missed your cookies.” Jim said, turning to her and nodding with great seriousness. 

“Cookies?” Robin couldn’t think what he was talking about.

“You mean you don’t remember the cookies you made for me? Macaroons; chocolate covered macaroons. I’ve thought about them for days—no, weeks.” The little laugh lines around those wonderful brown eyes were showing. And Robin remembered that terrible night when she made cookies to help soothe her own raw feelings.

“Yes, the macaroons, I remember,” Robin said.

Jim looked around and saw the suitcase. “Going on a trip?” he asked.

“Just came back from a trip.”

“That’s why I haven’t seen you. I actually came looking for you last Sunday. A bunch of us were headed to Bandaloops for brunch. I’ve got to get your phone number so I can call and invite you properly. You’re not in the book.”

“No, as a matter of fact I’m not. But my grandfather is. The phone is still in Joseph Browne’s name. I don’t want my name in a phone book; it just doesn’t seem safe to me.”

“Very prudent of you. You never know when strange men will go through the phone book, looking for women to bother.”

“Very funny; that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, I know. Are you up to dinner tonight?”

Robin knew she shouldn’t but she wasn’t missing an opportunity to go out with Jim. “I’m a bit tired,” she admitted. “But I’ve got to eat.”

“Give me your phone number and I’ll be by at 7.”

Chapter 20

By the time their dinners arrived, Robin had outlined her strange odyssey. A glass of wine had cheered her a bit. Or was it Jim? He had listened intently, nodding now and then. And when she finally paused, he sighed. 

“That’s some story, Robin,” he said. 

“I couldn’t have made up a wilder tale – and yet it has really happened. I really don’t know what to think but can’t get it out of my mind that Ellen must still be alive,” Robin said, her fork poised over the salmon.

“I don’t know where I’d look if I’d lost a sister,” Jim said and reached over to touch her hand. “But I’m here if you need any help.”

“You know it’s kind of funny,” Robin said. “When I met those two women last month I’d been feeling pretty lonely. Now my mother calls me every day – I hadn’t spoken regularly to her in years. The two women who say they knew Eleanor have left several messages on my answering machine, saying they want to offer their support. And now here I am out with a reasonably attractive man – even if he is a stockbroker.”

As Jim began to bluster about the stockbroker remark, Robin laughed and then grew more serious. “No really, I appreciate your concern. How’s your filet?” Robin realized she needed to lighten up.

Federal Hill is blessed with a handful of tiny, stylish restaurants. The menus may be quirky and the staff isn’t always as polished as you might expect. But the mood is always calm and quiet and the food and wine are good. Jim had led Robin to a restaurant she’d never heard of and she was impressed immediately. Six tables filled up all the space in the side dining room and the window looked out on a garden. It was too early for most plants but even in the early spring, the tree limbs, rocks and spare fountain created a charming view. And it gave the two of them something to talk about when the silence grew awkward.

“I grew up in a state park,” Jim announced as they discussed the garden.

“In the state park?” Robin asked

“Oh yes. My father was the park’s manager and in those days they gave your family a house. Commuting was easy – though it didn’t seem like Dad ever got away from his work. That’s why I live in the city.”

“Why?”

“I’d had enough trees, birds and dirt to last a lifetime.”

“Nobody ever gets tired of trees and birds,” Robin protested. 

“Maybe not really trees and birds but our house was a little isolated. I couldn’t wait to go to school every September just to see my friends,” Jim explained.

“Well, yes I can understand that,” she said, thinking he’s the kind of guy who wants to be in the middle of everything, especially a crowd. She liked that kind of guy.

"I grew up in Annapolis,” Robin told him as she sipped the last of her wine. “It was a very small town in those days and everybody knew everybody, especially on the street where we lived. All I had to do was go outside and I’d find a friend or go inside and find my sister. “

“You really were close, weren’t you?” he asked as he poured her another glass.

“I took her for granted. She was older than me so I thought of her as ‘big.’ I asked her for advice and I listened to what she said. We were good friends. I keep hearing stories of sisters who can’t be bothered with each other. I was lucky.”

“Hmmm. You must have been. So where do you think Eleanor is now?”

“I have no idea. I have no idea if she’s alive. I think she is. I’m pretty sure she is. But she certainly doesn’t want to be found, does she?” As usual, Robin didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. Either way, she couldn’t shake the confusion she always felt now.

“Where else could you look?”

“I’ve tried the Eastern Shore. I even went to England. And for what? A suitcase of nice English clothes,” she tried on her smile. And Jim flashed her one of his.

“What about a private eye? You know, a Sam Space kind of guy who could dig up the dirt?”

“Sam Space! Sam Spade, you mean,” Robin laughed.

“The sci-fi guy is Sam Space. Anyway, what about hiring one of those guys?”

“Mom hired one in England and he turned up the dirt all right. But it wasn’t Eleanor, not our Eleanor. He followed another woman with the same name. It was terrible.”

It was a good idea, Robin concluded as they discussed all the things he might be able to find: records they didn’t even know how to look for, addresses that he could look up. Maybe it was time to find a professional to help them out. 

“I think you’re on to something, with your Sam Space guy,” Robin said. “I’ll see who’s available around here. I’ve never heard of anybody using a private detective in Baltimore -- but people must need them.”

“Enough of that for tonight. What shall we have for dessert?”