Summary: When Martha Grant learns her employer is moving to Maine, she decides she won't go with the family.
Rating: K
I do not own nor claim to own the characters of Carolyn, Jonathan or Candy Muir or Martha Grant. They belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber Productions. Other characters are mine and may not be used without consent. I make no money off of this piece of fan fiction.
A story for the 38th anniversary of GAMM, hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Mary for being the beta and reading parts of this before hand. :)
She had made up her mind — she wasn't going to go. Yes, she would miss them, even more than she could imagine right now. But she wasn't going to go. At her age you just didn't pack up everything and go to a strange place far away from what was warm and familiar to you. It was one thing for Carolyn Muir, she was still young and the poor woman needed to get away, haunted as she was by memories around every corner.
But for herself, Martha Grant, she was comfortable with her ghosts and had no desire to leave them behind. But that still wouldn't make it any easier when it came time to say goodbye.
She had worked in some form of domestic service for the last thirty years and knew she wouldn't have any problems getting another position. And, like many of her co-workers she never felt the jobs she did were beneath her or something to be ashamed of. She had cooked the food, washed the dishes and done the laundry for many of Philadelphia' s most distinguished families, all the while remaining unattached to any of them.
But there had been something special about Robert and Carolyn Muir, something she couldn't resist and she soon felt like they were the son and daughter she would have liked to have. Bobby, as he liked to be called, had been a warm, congenial man, full of life and had had a fierce love for his family. His loyalty to his father had been his downfall really — trapping him into a career he hated and a lifestyle he never desired.
Carolyn was smart and sassy with an independent streak that you couldn't help but admire. She had flawlessly, it seemed, added 'father' to her resume after the unexpected death of her husband — a mother bear who would lash out at any and all attempts by her father-in-law to take over the role of provider for her children. He was one of the main reasons she was making the move to Maine. And while Martha was glad to see Carolyn take matters into her own hands, she wondered: Why it had to be Maine?
"Martha?" Candy interrupted her thoughts. "What time is dinner?" The housekeeper smiled knowing full well that the girl's question had nothing to do with dinner, but actually was a sneaky way of asking if she could have a cookie. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was only three o'clock. Plenty of time.
"Just one." she said firmly, holding out the cookie jar to the girl.
"One for Jonathan, too?" the pixie blonde asked her.
"Yes, one for Jonathan, too, and make sure he gets it."
"Thanks, Martha." The little girl smiled, clutching her two cookies to her shirt as she ran back toward the fire escape. "I got them, Jonathan!"
Oh, how I will miss them!
Martha felt tears stinging the back of her eyes and she dabbed at them with her apron. She didn't want Mrs. Muir to catch her crying. But how she would live without those kids she wasn't sure. Bobby Muir had hired her to come and take care of his wife, laid up for a time with a broken foot, when Candy had been only three months old. They had loved the way she fit into their little family so well and Mr. and Mrs. Muir had begged her to stay.
"Well, if I don't," she remembered saying, "I couldn't live with myself knowing you all might just starve to death."
Carolyn Muir was a wonderful, smart woman, who had no cooking abilities at all, past toasted cheese sandwiches and scrambled eggs — something that Bobby had confessed to Martha he had subsisted on for the first year of their marriage. He had been quite an accomplished cook, and said he had offered to take care of such things, but Carolyn had very much wanted to do it, so he had happily (mostly) eaten what was set before him.
As the older woman looked around the small kitchen of their even smaller apartment, she thought about the house that Carolyn Muir had left behind in her attempt to move further away from the confining arms of her family. She herself was only getting half the salary she had once been given, but she didn't mind. She didn't really want anything for herself as she had a home of her own and her needs were small. The Williams' had offered to pay the other half of her earnings, but she had refused.
Jonathan came walking into the kitchen, his face one big smile, a smile that meant he, too, was up to something. Martha found it very hard to say no to the boy, and had to remind herself often she was not the grandmother she felt like she was to him and his sister. But she had been there before Jonathan was even an idea in his parent's minds. She had been with Carolyn and Bobby Muir through every minute of the terrible pregnancy that had produced the beautiful boy, and she loved him as though he were her grandson. She didn't want to leave him or Candy behind. What was she going to do?
But you've already made up your mind, she told herself firmly. You've decided you aren't going to move to Maine. You aren't going to pack up all your belongings and leave your home of fifty-six years to live in a run down cottage in the middle of nowhere. Carolyn Muir will be able to get more help.
"What do you think you might be wanting?" she looked at the boy through upraised eyebrows.
"Can we have a glass of milk?" he asked, sounding so sweet and innocent, even she was almost fooled. Milk was another way to try to get a cookie. And she wasn't going to fall for it. Well, maybe just this once.
"I'll get you some," she nodded, going to the cupboard and getting out two glasses. "Why don't you get another cookie for you and your sister to go along with it?"
"Thanks, Martha!" he glowed. Eagerly, he took both the milk and the cookies, running once more to the fire escape. He and his sister played out there for hours, pretending it was a castle. Moving to a home with 2.5 acres would be a very good experience for them — and a private beach she remembered reading in the ad. She just hoped they would have time to go there often. Carolyn was going to be so busy, at least until she got settled, work wise. But surely the new housekeeper would be able to go with them. Speaking of which, if she wasn't going, she really needed to tell Mrs. Muir, so she'd have time to get someone else. They were leaving the end of next week. How lonely her life would be after that!
The bells from the Catholic Church on the corner sounded through the open window, telling her it was five o'clock. Carolyn would be home in a short while and dinner wasn't quite ready yet. What will that woman do when she doesn't have anyone to cook for her? Martha wondered. Correction — she would have someone to cook for her, she would make sure of it if she had to hire a woman herself. But could she find someone else who would make sure that Mrs. Muir actually consumed more during the day then ten cups of coffee and a couple pieces of toast? And who could she get that would take the time to make things the way the family really liked them? Well, she would find someone.
The door opened, and Martha ran forward to help her employer inside the apartment. The petite woman was loaded with packages, her hands grasping at paper bags, that she was thankful to turn over to her housekeeper' s capable hands. "Just a little bit of food to tide us over until we leave," Carolyn was saying as she put the overstuffed Manila envelope down on a chair, then kicked off her shoes. I'll have to warn the new woman about that. Martha made a mental note — Carolyn Muir's habit of throwing off her shoes sometimes made it difficult to find them when she needed them again. "Oh, Martha, I'm so tired."
"Well, how about a cup of coffee and you can tell me about it?"
"Sounds heavenly."
While the older woman finished dinner, she listened to Carolyn tell her about her interview with Uptown Magazine, which didn't go well, and with Mr. Granger at People's Choice Magazine which did. "He said he would love to get articles about vacation spots in New England to publish in his magazine." Carolyn beamed. "And Mr. Randolph, at the Inquirer, still wants me to edit the Christmas edition, like I did last year, I just need to get it done so I can send it back in time."
Martha nodded, knowing that the younger woman was anxious about this move, wondering if she could really find enough jobs to pay the rent and necessary bills, and feed and clothe her children. Robert had been a good man, and terrific father, but his business sense had not been the best, and they had lost most of their money. The fact that her father-in-law could and would provide that money — if Carolyn agreed to certain terms, such as Jonathan going away to school — made the woman even more determined not to take it.
She watched Carolyn Muir's determined face as she went down her checklist, rubbing her neck in bewilderment as she pondered over one item, then giving a warm smile, when she remembered and crossed it off.
"I've heard the average temperature in Maine, in December, is fifteen to twenty degrees," she said aloud to the housekeeper. "Do you think the children's coats are going to be warm enough?"
"We just bought them last year, and they are still in good shape. They should be fine, if Jonathan hasn't outgrown his."
"I guess I should check on that. And make sure they have extra mittens and hats. I don't mean to sound citified, but according to the brochure Mr. Gregg sent me, there is just one general store in town and I don't know what I might be able to get my hands on with ease. Oh and socks. Jonathan especially goes through socks."
"I can do all of that for you," Martha told her. "It will free you up to do some more important things, like packing."
The younger woman kissed her on the cheek, before laying a warm arm around her shoulders. "Thank you Martha. I don't know what I would do without you."
Martha Grant, she scolded herself as she headed to get the winter coats out of the closet. 'You've got to tell her; you can't let it go any further. She will need time to find someone else.' Pulling the coats out, she called for the children and decided she would tell her employer first thing right after dinner. Well, after the children were in bed. Yes, she would do it tonight.
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"I couldn't do it." Martha took the cup of coffee she was offered, taking a sip, before continuing. "I opened my mouth to tell her that I've decided to stay here in Philadelphia, and the words just wouldn't come out. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Leticia Murphy let out a sigh and sat down at the only other chair at the table. She and Martha had been friends since first grade, and felt closer than sisters. "Why do you want to stay?"
"Well, I have a house here, and all of my friends are here."
"Yes, but you traveled for a while, and you lived in California for two years, before you settled back here. And you enjoyed it."
"Yes, I did," Martha nodded. "But that was different. I was younger, and only had myself to look after. And if I couldn't do it, the ensemble was always around to do it for me. I really enjoyed being on the stage, singing and dancing." She let herself get lost in the memory. "But I'm not that girl anymore."
"If you decide to stay here, will you find another family?"
"I don't think so." she sighed. "I don't think I would have any problem finding one but I might open a small bakery, relax more and take lots of day trips. Maybe teach piano again. Or baby-sit — that's a good way to make fast cash, and it would keep me in touch with the world. I think I would be much too busy to work as a housekeeper again."
"Would it be so bad if you didn't stay?" her friend asked, pushing a plate of cookies into the middle of the table. "Do you have anything to actually keep you here?"
The woman sat quietly, thinking over the words. "No, I really don't. I mean I do have the house, but Mother isn't going to come back and live here. I know that now. She's happy with Evelyn and I know that Harry told me he was pleasantly surprised how well they all got along. And mother said I could what I wanted with the house, so I suppose I could sell it, or rent it. It's much too big for just me, and after living in such close quarters with the Muir's for the last few months, I'd probably get lost in all the space. And you are here, but distance has never bothered us staying friends before."
"Truer words were never spoken. What about Joe?"
Martha Grant smiled, but shook her head. "Joe and I are never going to be. He is a sweet lovable man, but we can't seem to get past stage one, and after thirty years, you would think I would know better. No, leaving Joe behind wouldn't be a heartache."
"Then why don't you go?"
"To Maine? Leti, have you ever been there? It's nothing but wilderness. I remember going through there on a tour. One side of the state was nothing but water and the other side was nothing but trees. It's full of small towns, without any decent stores and the winters are horrible. They don't actually get as much snow as we do here, but it's colder and the wind is sharper. And the people aren't like they are here — you can live in a town for fifty years and still be an outsider. No thank you, I'll stay here where I know what to expect."
"But you would let Carolyn Muir — the woman you feel is your daughter — go through all of that alone, just because you don't feel like moving?"
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After she left Leti's, Martha headed to her childhood home, where she called Mrs. Muir saying she would be staying there tonight if it was all right.
"Of course," Carolyn had assured her. Martha liked to check on the house from time to time to make sure all the outside lights worked and there were no problems, but she rarely spent the night.
As she checked to make sure that everything looked in order, she couldn't help but think how much like a little girl Carolyn Muir had sounded, tired and scared. Her father-in-law, more than likely, was giving her trouble again. It was so hard for Martha to bite her tongue where his treatment of his daughter-in- law was concerned, and she knew that someday she wouldn't be able to hold back. It wasn't Carolyn's fault that his son had died, it wasn't something she had wanted either, and she, Martha, was tired of him shifting the blame on Mrs. Muir.
Going into the house, taking in the familiar scents of home, she looked over the living room with affection. Both she and her sister Evelyn had been born in this house, as had their brother Martin. Their father, Simon Grant, the great vaudeville star, had died here. It was in this house that Martha had learned to sing and dance, cook and sew and to love without limit. Here she had had her first kiss, her first dream and her first heartbreak. But it wasn't that home any more. And she knew it never could be again, no matter how much she wished it. It was time to move on. So, she would find someone to rent this place, someone to fill it with new memories. And next Friday she would on her way to Maine, with her new family. And who knew what more life might have to offer? She might be fifty-six, but she wasn't dead, not even close. There was still lots of life left in her. Maybe she would find that someone special, or she would learn to do something new. She would definitely be helping a dear friend, find a new lease on her life. Sure, she might get discouraged, and wish she could come home — but didn't she owe the Muir's and herself a chance at the unknown?
Returning back to the small apartment the next day, she was greeted with hugs and kisses by Candy and Jonathan, who seemed loath to let her out of their sight.
"What's all this?" she asked, surprised at their outpouring of emotion. She knew they loved her, but they didn't usually become so open about it.
"We thought maybe you weren't going to move to Maine with us," Candy finally admitted. "We thought maybe you were going to stay here."
"Never crossed my mind." She smiled at them, giving each one a hug. "I couldn't possibly leave you all to get in trouble by yourselves, could I?"
"No, Ma'am!" They seemed happier.
"Well, then we've got plenty to do before Friday. Let's get at it."
How could she have possibly thought of ever doing anything else?