Mommy Dearest

Chapter 21
Upstairs and Downstairs

Loren Singer was getting used to being woken up in the small hours to attend to her baby's needs, but that didn't make the tiredness any easier to cope with. Alexandra had been restless this past night, she had woken demanding to be fed at just before two and not long after four o'clock, and in between times she had woken, loud in her demands to be changed. Now at just before six o'clock she had again started to cry.

Wearily Loren pulled herself out of bed, lifting her daughter from the crib, she offered a breast, hoping that she had somehow managed to produce enough milk during the past two hours to satisfy her baby's demands. It seems that she had, at any rate when Alexandra stopped suckling, she hadn't cried until she'd needed changing. During that twenty minute period Loren had showered and dressed, and after seeing to Alexandra's needs she pulled her hair back into a pony-tail and carrying her daughter's carry-crib in one hand and the replenished diaper bag over her other shoulder, she made her way down to the hotel restaurant to meet with Frank and Trish for breakfast.

Trish and Frank were waiting for her at the breakfast table looked up and as she approached, both noticed that she looked a little pale and saw the bruises under her eyes. "Somebody been keeping you awake all night?" Frank asked concernedly.

Loren half-smiled and said, "Yes, although I don't think we can really blame her too much. She slept most of yesterday while we were driving, and I don't think she was tired enough after that to sleep for very long. And I don't mind that, but she seems to mind very much if when she's awake, her mommy isn't too!"

Trish smiled in sympathy both with Loren's whimsy and with her obvious fatigue, but for the moment said nothing. However, after breakfast while refining last night's preliminary choices and busy with route-map, pencil and the local papers' property sections, Trish suggested, "Look, we had a long day of it yesterday, we've got plenty of time left during the week; why don't we limit ourselves to the three most likely properties each day? We're not going to miss much; ninety per cent of today's listings are the same as yesterday's and the weekends. If spending less time driving around means that Alexandra stays awake longer during the day, then I say we should tackle the situation that way!"

Loren wasn't totally convinced by Trish's logic, but if it somehow led to her getting even one extra hour of sleep she could definitely go along with the idea. Grasping pencil in hand she set about ruthlessly eliminating every property in the supplement that looked as if it might even possibly not be ideal, pausing only the once to retreat to the women's room to feed and with Trish's help to change Alexandra's diapers.

The good natured wrangling over which three properties should be inspected and the 'phone calls to the Realtors' office led to the three of them not loading Alexandra and all her ancillaries into Frank's rental until nearly eleven o'clock. Fortunately the plan for the day was simple, take the Beltway anti-clockwise to Vienna, then to Tyson's corner and finally down to West Springfield before heading back to DC via Alexandria.

It took half an hour to drive to Vienna around the George Washington Memorial Parkway to the Tyson's Corner off-ramp and then on to the small town itself, but by the time Frank had driven across the Francis Scott Key Bridge he had already tapped Trish on the knee and with a jerk of his head indicated the rear seat. Twisting around to look, Trish saw that both Loren and Alexandra, lulled by the motion of the car, were asleep. Shaking her head and smiling she looked across at Frank and saw the he too had the same indulgent smile on his face.

Mother and baby stayed peacefully asleep until Frank pulled up outside the address he'd been given when he'd called the real estate office number given in the property advert. He looked back at Loren and whispered, hoping not to wake Alexandra, "Loren, wake up honey, we're here."

"M'mmm," was all the answer he got as Loren snuggled down further against the seat and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

"Frank, you know what they're looking for," whispered Trish, "why don't you go on ahead, and if it's worth it, then we can wake Loren up. For the moment, just let her sleep."

Frank nodded his agreement and climbed out of the car, careful to just close the door to without letting it slam shut and without even engaging the lock. With a flipped salute to Trish, he opened the gate in the picket fence and walked up the path between two rows of flower beds that flanked the lawn on each side. The house was a sort of neo-colonial style he supposed. There was the porch on which Loren set such great store. The garage off to the right as he looked at the house had room for two cars and space on the drive in front of it for another four. The realtor waiting for him was a thin woman in her forties with a mop of untamed red-hair and a mouth set in firm lines of seeming disapproval of the world, the house, and especially it seemed of him.

To his surprise rather than letting herself in with as key she rapped sharply on the door, saying as she did so "The current owners are still in residence."

After what seemed an age, the door was opened by a man that seemed to be about fifteen to twenty years old than Frank, who squinted at the realtor and grumbled, "So, you're here now, are you? Well, you'd better come on in."

The realtor ignored the older man as she fussily led Frank around the ground floor living space, explaining, as if they weren't obvious, the salient features of the kitchen, the utility room the separate dining room and the living room. The basement she assured Frank, consisted of one large and one small room, and were well lit and well ventilated, but made no attempt to take him down the flight of stairs that she indicated was concealed by a door under the stairs in the entry hall. Before he had time to say that he would like to inspect the basement, she was three quarters of the way up the stairs to the second floor and looking down at him with a look of impatient exasperation on her face. With her strange attitude and the way she was ignoring the homeowner who seemed only to be a tag-along, Frank was beginning to wonder if she actually wanted to sell the house or not.

The second floor held no surprises for house of this age and size. There were four bedrooms, two large and two small and one bathroom. Just about adequate, he judged, but nothing that really made the place a stand-out. "The description mentioned a separate apartment?" he hinted.

"Well, yes, but it's only really meant for weekend visitors," he was told. "We'll need to go round to the side of the garage to get there."

The 'separate apartment' when seen from back yard appeared to be little more than a timber frame and tar-paper roofed shack perched precariously on top of the garage's flat roof and set so far back from the front of the garage that it was not visible from the front of the house. Climbing the stairs and opening the door, it was apparent that the only recent occupants had been the birds who had left ample evidence by means of their droppings. The apartment consisted of a combined kitchen living and dining area, a bedroom just about large enough for the standard sized double-bed and a shower stall and toilet cubicle divided off from the main room by a stud wall with a just a curtain to give the illusion of privacy. Frank sniffed, it might very well do for a teenager staying over for a weekend, it was not good enough for a young mother with an infant and certainly nowhere near acceptable for Loren and Alexandra!

"Well," he said after looking around the squalor of the apartment, "thank you for your time, but this really isn't what we've been looking for."

The realtor lady definitely looked annoyed, but Frank thought he'd heard a muffled, "Good!" from the old man who had been shuffling around behind them. It was the first word he had said since he had grudgingly allowed them into his home, and Frank had already picked up a definite vibe that he wasn't welcome here.

With something very close to a shudder of relief he left the house behind convinced that there was something not terribly right about the situation. But there was nothing he could put his finger on, and nothing he could report to whom? The police? Social services? They'd laugh him out of their offices. But still...

Returning to the car he slid back behind the wheel and looking a Trish he pulled a face of disapproval and shook his head. Then turning to glance back at Loren, he smiled fondly. Mother and daughter were both soundly asleep. He turned back towards Trish and said, "It's a very pretty picture, but should we let them sleep so much? If Alexandra sleeps all day, she's not going to sleep tonight, and Loren is going to be exhausted tomorrow!"

Trish nodded agreement, but argued, "Yes, it's difficult, but sleep's hard to come by with a baby in the house. The golden rule is that when the baby sleeps, mommy does too. But we'll see how it goes. Let's leave them until we get to the next place. Where is it? "

Frank consulted the list and the road map, "Back the way we came, almost to the Beltway. Still in Vienna, near Tyson's Corner, we need to find... ah, yeah, there, Woodford Road." He looked at the map scale and said, "About two and a half miles, say maybe five, six minutes. Here you navigate, and try not to get us lost this time!"

"Frank! That was one time," she protested laughingly, "years ago up near San Francisco! And you've never let me forget it!"

Frank just grinned unrepentantly at his wife, who sent him a mock-pout in return.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

The house on Woodford road was set back maybe fifty or sixty feet from the street and had a palisade fence flanking both sides, indicating that it did have the necessary enclosed back yard. It had Loren's requisite porch and although a fairly recent design the red bricks looked mellowed, as if the place had been built from re-cycled materials, and the paintwork looked fresh. There were three floors worth of windows, although the top-most floor had dormer windows, suggesting that the loft was in use for something other than storage. The grassed area in front of the house was well manicured and the double garage had sufficient gravelled space in front for another two cars, at least.

Trish and Frank sat looking at the house for a good five minutes, taking in the quietness of the street, the distance between the houses, and Frank particularly the make and model and year of the various cars that were parked outside the houses. There was nothing extravagant, Camaros, Equinox, Prius, and Accords to name a few. All good, solid, mid-range choices. Their own unspoken decision made, Trish twisted around in her seat and stretching back, shook Loren's knee, saying quietly, "Wake up, Loren, we think you need to see this one. C'mon child, get with the programme, please."

Loren slowly swam up towards wakefulness, and shivering as her body reacted to its sleep-lowered temperature, she said, "Huh?"

Trish smiled in sympathy, although it had been so many years ago, she still remembered vividly snatching the odd hour or two of sleep as and when she could when Harm was a baby. "Here, use one of these," she offered a packet of wet wipes to Loren, "it'll make you feel better."

The cool, lemon scented wipe did make Loren feel better, and once she had woken properly, she smiled her thanks to Trish and automatically turned to check on Alexandra. Her baby was sleeping peacefully, and was so beautiful that Loren felt a catch in her throat as her vision misted over. Slightly embarrassed by her own emotions she turned back to face Trish and Frank and could only shrug helplessly. Trish saw and recognised Loren's feelings and said, "Yes, they do tug at our heartstrings, and you'll have many, many more moments just like this one. You store them up and keep them safe, and they'll always be there for you to keep you warm when you need them."

Loren half-smiled mistily and answered, "I don't know what's got into me! I never used to be such a watering pot."

Trish knew exactly what had got into the younger woman, but copying Uncle Remus' tar-baby, she just lay low and said nothing.

Waiting another minute or so for Loren to finish getting herself together, Frank opened the rear passenger door for her and gave her his hand to help her out. Turning to Trish he asked, "Are you joining us for this walk round?"

"No, I think I'll just sit here and let Alexandra keep me company." By letting Loren think that Trish had assumed that staying with Loren in the car was now normal practice, Trish hoped that it would now become just that.

For a moment Trish thought she had miscalculated until Loren relaxed and with a soft 'Bye-bye, baby," turned to Frank and added "Well, then Mr Burnett, shall we?"

"Of course, Ms Singer," he replied and crooked an elbow for her to take hold of.

They were met at the front door by a very young woman, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, Frank estimated, who came forward with a sunny smile, and said with a faint Virginia accent, "Hi, Mr and Mrs Burnett? I'm Catherine Graves of Graves' Real Estate," she laughed cheerfully at Loren's expression, it was one she'd come to half-expect; an expression that clearly said, that she was far too young to be a realtor. "It's OK," she said reassuringly, "I don't own the company; I'm just working for my daddy for the summer!"

Frank warmed to her, she seemed so full of life and enthusiasm and such a contrast with the acerbic woman they had just left, "Good morning, yes, I'm Burnett, this is my daughter-in-law, Ms Singer."

"Ma'am, pleased to meet you, and you too, sir. Now if you-all would just like to come along with me...?" Opening the door she stood aside to let them enter the house first. The entry hall which extended to the full height of the first two floors was square with a two stage stairway zig-zagging up against the rear wall under an ox-eye window, and with four doors leading off into other ground-floor rooms.

Catherine Graves led them into the front right-hand room, which lit by the large window proved to have more than enough space to be used, as she had introduced it, as a family room, the focal point of which in the rear wall was large open fire-place beside which was a connecting door to the room to the rear of the building. "The fireplace shares its chimney with the room behind this one, which the last owner used as his study, it's complete with 'phone sockets and DSL points, and as you can see, it's still lined with bookshelves. The door in the far corner leads to the rear entry hall." She opened that door to show a half-glass door to the back yard, which again was mostly a close-cropped lawn, but bordered on three sides with flower-beds now bursting into a riot of colour as buds bloomed into flowers.

Crossing the hall, Catherine continued, "Through here, is the kitchen and beyond that the utility room, the kitchen connects, through this door, to the dining room, which if you've gotten yourselves turned around, leads out into the lobby again, and that's the living room again, dead ahead." Continuing in her lively fashion Catherine led the pair of them upstairs to the second floor, showing them in turn each of the four bedrooms and the two bathrooms, and then finally to the third floor where she explained there were a further two bedrooms and a rumpus room. While Frank was examining the construction of the rooms, Catherine turned to Loren and asked very quietly and with a tinge pink in her cheeks, "Excuse me, ma'am, for being personal, but are you nursing?"

Loren looked at the girl in surprise, and was about to tell her that it was none of her damned business, when Catherine continued, "It's just that I thought you ought to know," and casting a sidelong look at Frank whispered, "that you're... er... leaking, ma'am.

Loren who had felt the beginnings of an ache in her breasts glanced down and saw that there was a spreading stain on her shirt, and nodding her acknowledgement, if not her thanks, to the realtor, buttoned her jacket in order to hide the tell-tale mark.

Leading the prospective clients back downstairs Catherine Graves asked, "Did you want to see the guest rooms?"

Frank and Loren exchanged a significant look. Guest rooms, not just a guest room. Loren's already favourable impression of the property was increased, and more so when Catherine led them out into the back yard and round to the rear of the garage where a masonry-built flight of stairs led up to the garage roof. The guest rooms only covered three quarters of the available space, leaving a patio surrounded by a knee high wall in front of a two floor maisonette built over the garage. Catherine unlocked the door and again stood aside to allow them their first sight of the interior. The kitchen towards the rear of the apartment (but towards the front of the house) was separated from the remainder of the first floor by a wall pierced by an arch that extended across fully half the width of the apartment. The second floor had three bedrooms, one double and two single plus a shower and bathroom. Everything appeared to be in sound condition, and the standard of decoration was also high. Frank and Loren looked at each other, and Loren said, "This one has got to be seen by Harm and Jen!"

"Yes, it must." Frank agreed with her and then "Miss Graves, we would like to have a second viewing, tomorrow if possible - Harm and Jen did say they would be back tonight, didn't they Loren?" Loren nodded. "Yes, then tomorrow please, Miss Graves, at eleven o'clock, say?"

Catherine Graves, smiled and made a note in her file, but then said, "If you are still not quite decided, and unless you're determined to buy in the Vienna area, might I ask where you work?" She said this as she looked from Frank to Loren, undecided for whom the property was being sought.

Frank smiled, recognising from his own salesman days the lead-in to the 'switch' selling technique, said, "No, I'm not local, just visiting, but Ms Singer works in Falls Church."

"Ah, OK, that's not all that far to commute. But..."

"Yes?" Frank prompted encouragingly.

"Well, it's only about eight miles, but the traffic along the I-50 and the Custiss Memorial is real bad both morning and afternoon peaks, and there are so many people using the local streets as rat-runs that it can take over an hour to get to Falls Church from here. Now, unless you're bound and determined to live outside the Beltway, we've got another property pretty much the same as this, except that the guest rooms are a ranch-house cum bunk house kind of thing at the end of the back yard. It's just on the edge of Falls Church, and it's going for a snip." She scribbled a figure on a page she tore from her file and handed it to Frank, who raised his eyebrows and passed it to Loren.

Frank his suspicions raised by the low figure asked, "What's the catch? Why so cheap?"

"It's owned, no it was owned, by a retired navy officer and his wife. But he died about two weeks ago, and his widow just wants to sell out and move down south as quickly as she can. We haven't published its details yet, we were going to wait for the weekend issue to update all our holdings."

Loren asked her, "What was the officer's name?"

"Oh, let me see... yes, an Admiral Brovo." And at Loren's sharp intake of breath, she asked "Did you know him?"

"No, I didn't know, him but I knew of him, he was our last JAG before..."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but are you navy?" Catherine asked, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

"Yes... I'm.."

"So am I ma'am! Or I will be, I start NROTC at UCLA in the fall." She grimaced, "I didn't make it to Annapolis."

Loren couldn't help smiling at the girl's obvious mingling of disappointment and keenness.

"Well, I didn't go to the academy, either, I went NROTC at Boston. Not getting to Annapolis doesn't make you a second-class citizen." Loren encouraged her.

"Yes, ma'am, and thank you! That's made me feel a bit better, I guess. Now, if you want to check out the other place, here's the address."

Frank extended a hand to the young would-be naval officer, "Miss Graves, thank you for your help today. We'll certainly take the place at Falls Church into consideration, and we'll see you again, tomorrow at eleven?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Burnett, eleven o'clock it is!"

The walk back to the car was accompanied by Loren listing all the good points that she had found in and around the house, from the enclosed back yard to the way the guest apartment had been built, like a little house, on the garage roof. Her praises were cut short however, when they reached the car by the sound of an impatiently hungry Alexandra demanding her lunch. Trish was gently jogging Alexandra up and down in her arms, but to little effect.

Loren retrieved her daughter from a grateful Trish, and with an apologetic smile at Frank almost dived into the back seat of the car, unbuttoning jacket and shirt as she did so. Truth to tell, she was glad that Alexandra was hungry, apart from the embarrassment of visibly sporting a damp patch on her shirt, she needed the relief of Alexandra draining some of the milk she had produced during the last three hours.

Frank, as was his habit has leaning against the side window of the car on the sidewalk side, blocking the view of any passing pedestrians and her back was towards the street side their respective positions, when adding Trish's presence in the front passenger seat, guaranteeing almost complete privacy.

After a quick change from left to right a finally replete Alexandra relinquished the nipple and almost rubbing her eyes with the back of her right hand - Loren smiled at the conceit, there was no way that even her brilliant daughter's hand co-ordination was up to that yet - burped gently, prompting Loren to raise her to a vertical position and gently rub her back, helping her to bring up the rest of the wind she'd ingested together with her lunch. Loren was still halfway through that process when it was borne upon her olfactory nerves that her darling daughter was... er... slightly less than fragrant. And from the look on Trish's face she too was aware of what was happening in the vicinity of Alexandra's nether regions.

Sighing, Loren climbed out of the car and opened the rear luggage hatch, where laying the changing mat out on the flat cargo bed, she reached for the diaper bag, while Trish stood by holding the now-uncomfortable and grizzling Alexandra.

At length, good order and discipline, so Loren fondly chided her baby, restored and the diaper bag re-packed, Frank who had checked the route on the road map, started the engine and headed south-east towards the address given to him by Catherine Graves.

Loren was a little concerned by the amount of traffic on the road suggested by the street address, it was one of the major access roads from Springfield and Annandale into the centre of Falls Church, but the situation of the house was belied by the address. It stood at the end of its own little dead-end street, about fifty yards off the main highway and screened from its noise and fumes by a line of American Hornbeam trees. The house itself was age-mellowed red bricks and in overall appearance was very similar to the last one they had visited, which Loren reflected, was no real surprise, as they had been using almost the same criteria throughout their search. The one noticeable and immediately visible difference was that the main part of the house extended over the garage.

Frank looked at her and asked, "Well?"

"I've got a good feeling about this one," she admitted, "give that real estate girl a call, and tell her we'd like a show-round tomorrow. Ask if she can do this one at eleven, and then if need be we can go back and look at that last place in Vienna." Somewhere during that last sentence, she had stopped asking and had directed.

Frank hearing the change, not so much of tone, but in delivery smiled, Loren had almost for the first time he had met her, sounded like a naval officer. "Yes, ma'am!" he rapped out, accompanying his words with a mock-salute,

Loren glared at him for a few seconds, before she realised what she had just said and how she had said it, and then giggled, "I guess I was being kind of bossy!"

"Not bossy, dear," a hugely grinning and appreciative Trish interposed, "authoritative!"

"Oh! Not fair! complained Frank, "Trish, I do not need you giving Loren any encouragement!"

"Maybe not," gurgled Loren, "but, oh, I do!"

Frank, despite his grumbles was grinning as widely as either of his two adult passengers and begrudged them not an instant of their poking fun at him. Turning to Loren, he asked, "Can you get us back on the DC road from here, or do I need to get the map out?"

Loren thought for a moment and then said, "Yes, just carry on in the direction we're facing and that will bring us on to Arlington Boulevard, and then its straight on right in to DC. You can't miss it!"

Frank cast a skeptical glance her way; he'd heard that guarantee far too many times to take it at face value, but this time Loren proved correct and the end of a twenty-some minutes' drive saw their rental car pull up outside the Hilton Garden Inn.

Loren unloaded Alexandra from the car seat while Frank, just as he had done the previous day, carted in the diaper bag while Trish played the role of secretary gathering up maps, real estate brochures, pencils, markers and cell phones, as they made their way by unspoken consensus to the lobby corner table which they had all come to consider somehow as 'their table'. As Trish and Loren made themselves comfortable, Frank deposited the diaper bag next to Loren's chair and said, "Has anybody thought about lunch?"

The matching blank looks bestowed upon him were sufficient answer, so sighing, he suggested, "Tea and/or coffee all round and a selection of sandwiches?"

The heads nodded in unison and Frank strolled off to place their order.

The order placed, Frank picked up the card Catherine Graves had given him and dialled her personal number which she had scrawled on the back of it.

Much later with lunch just a distant memory and dinner well on its way to join it, Frank picked up his cell phone from the dressing table in the suite he shared with Trish.

"Burnett... Oh, hi, Harm, how was Grams... good. How's Jen... Oh... He did what... And you did...? No, I suppose not, but, all the same... uh-huh, is it anything Trish or I can help with? No? OK, well you tell her that we love her, and we'll see her tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, we've got two houses to see, one in Vienna and the other, believe it or not in Falls Church. You'll understand when you see them. Look, meet us here tomorrow at ten o'clock, we've got an appointment with the realtor in Falls Church at eleven. Yes, I know it won't take an hour to get there, but you've still got one or two important life lessons to learn... Like what? Like learning how long it takes to load two women and a baby plus all their bits and pieces into a car! Yes, and let's hope we can put a smile back on Jen's face. OK, Harm, goodnight... Yes, you too, goodnight, son."

Trish looked up from the dressing table, where she was smoothing her overnight moisturiser into her neck and face, "Something the matter, Frank?"

"Yes, Jen's father being rather unpleasant, and she's a bit upset" he said with masterly understatement, "Harm was a bit sketchy on the details, but they're coming to meet us tomorrow, and we'll get the full story then, and maybe even cheer her up a little."

Trish, not in the slightest fooled by his air of nonchalance gave him a shrewd look, and noticing the pinched look around his mouth and the whites around his nostrils knew full well that whatever Harm might have told her husband, he wasn't telling her the whole story.