The Clarkl Soup Kitchens Part 7

"I have worked without salary for thirty-one years for $95,000?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Hope. I know your agreement with Mrs. Aperson was never in writing. We should have had something formal between you, but you both seemed so agreeable, always."

I started to cry. I was nearly fifty, but I still felt the need to express my anger and my disappointment.

March 30, 2142 I'm still very upset about the will. I took all Mrs. Aperson's clothes to the charity shop today, expecting to purge the house of her odor.

In 2111 I answered her advertis.e.m.e.nt for a companion, light housework and cooking required.

I had just graduated from high school, near the top of my cla.s.s. I was an orphan, living in the county orphanage with nearly two hundred other children. I spent all my free time working on my studies in the expectation I would be selected to go to college at Chatham in Pittsburgh, just forty miles from home. I applied only to Chatham and was put on the college's waiting list. My turn never came.

After six months on the waiting list, I finally decided Chatham College needed students who could pay the tuition. I didn't blame Chatham for wanting to be able to pay its faculty, but I felt my excellent high school record should allow me to attend college somewhere.

At that time, I read Mrs. Aperson's advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Pittsburgh Press. She lived in Edgewood, within easy commuting distance to Chatham, and the situation seemed ideal.

That first year, Mrs. Aperson gave me room and board and a small allowance. I did all the housework, cooked two meals each day for both of us, and spent my evenings reading to her and talking with her. During the days, I walked to the nearby library to find out everything I could about other colleges where I might be welcome.

April 6, 2142 I have about $3,000 in my checking account.

One of the mortgages is now overdue, and there has been no check deposited to cover it.

I talked to the bill collector who called today, and he told me the mortgage payment was always charged directly to Mrs. Aperson's savings account. Always before, in the twenty-six years since the mortgage had been taken out, the savings account had been sufficient to cover the payment.

I explained that Mrs. Aperson had died, and I gave the bill collector Mr. Whipple's telephone number. He was the executor, I said.

Then, I called Mr. Whipple to tell him exactly what had come to light.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I closed that savings account and paid out the proceeds to the New Christian Congregation. The mortgage is now overdue."

"You mean there is no money left to pay any of those three mortgages this month?" I demanded.

"Miss Hope, the New Christian Congregation does not own that house. Why should it be interested in paying the mortgages?"

I fumed. I realized I was about three months from being homeless, and I needed to keep the utilities paid so I would not freeze in the western Pennsylvania spring weather.

April 10, 2142 I went into town today to see Mr. Whipple, again.

"I have explained your situation to the officials of the New Christian Congregation, and they would like to help you," he said. "Do you know the Reverend Crocker? He's the princ.i.p.al named in the will."

"I never heard of him. When did Mrs. Aperson meet him?" I asked.

"Oh, I can't know anything about that," Mr. Whipple said. "Old ladies like the clergy, and the clergy like anybody who looks affluent."

"What are they going to do for all this money?" I wondered.

"Pray for her soul, Miss Hope! That's what they agree to when they talk to old people about bequests."

"How can they help me, except to take what little equity I have in that house?" I asked.

"Exactly. We need to keep a close watch on what they will offer," Mr. Whipple said.

He gave me his statement of the value of my inheritance. I had a house with an estimated market value of $575,000 and three mortgages with balances totaling $452,000. The real estate people who estimated the market value wrote down an estimate of $12,000 for the monthly lease for the house. They also said it appeared to require about $16,000 in exterior repairs before it could be offered for lease. They stated, very clearly and very firmly, that these numbers were contingent upon a complete inspection of the house and upon market conditions in effect when the house was offered for lease or sale.

This time I did not cry. I had had two weeks to prepare myself for the worst.

I agreed to allow Mr. Whipple to make an appointment with the New Christian Congregation for both of us.

April 17, 2142 Today I met with the Reverend Crocker to go over my situation. I explained that Mrs. Aperson had told me, again and again, she would leave me the house in her will if I would stay with her until her death. For those thirty-one years, I told him, I had not pursued other interests or occupations because I was certain I would have the house.

"How sad you must feel, now," the Reverend Crocker said, "to lose both your dear friend and your dreams. G.o.d works in mysterious ways, is it not so?"

"My beliefs do not encompa.s.s a G.o.d who deceives and cheats," I insisted. "My G.o.d would have lived up to the agreement, even if it was not sanctified by a legal contract."

"G.o.d has a place for you, Miss Hope. I know change is hard, but your life is really just starting again. You have so many options," he said, much too smugly.

"I have my degree in English," I admitted, "but I have never worked. I want to teach in a private school, but my situation will require I look in another direction. A private school teacher will never make enough to pay off those mortgages."

It was true. During those first years with Mrs. Aperson, I had taken afternoon cla.s.ses at Penn State's Pittsburgh campus. It wasn't the traditional college matriculation, but after fifteen years I had a bachelor's degree from a Big Ten school. Mrs. Aperson had paid the first year's tuition, but I had won scholars.h.i.+ps after that.

"Let me think about this entire set of circ.u.mstances and requirements," the Reverend Crocker said. "First, though, let me write a check for $15,000 so you can pay the mortgages. Then, we'll see what can be done."

"Thank you," I sighed. "That is very generous."

Right after the meeting, I took the check to the bank and paid one month's worth of mortgages. I had $3,200 left from the $15,000, so I bought about six weeks worth of groceries.

April 21, 2142 The Reverend Crocker came to the house today. He wore another nice suit, and I found myself wondering if the $750,000, minus my $15,000, had paid his haberdasher's bill.

"Let me talk a bit about our work," he started, after he had accepted some Earl Gray tea and some Lord Baltimore cake.

He sipped a bit and continued, "The New Christian Congregation is made up, mostly, of former Roman Catholics. After the terrible disintegration of the church in America in the 2070s, many priests got together to form an organization to bid as subcontractors on the United States government's contract with Clarkl."

"Clarkl? That planet with all that uranium?" I asked.

"Yes, that's the one. In order to get its hands on that uranium, the government agreed to run dining rooms on Clarkl. They have a terrible, terrible problem there with famine, and they were willing to sell uranium to get food and its preparation."

"I see," I said, even though it was still very fuzzy as to how I could fit into that business.

"Of course, all those original priests have gone home, but many faithful of the laity hired seminarians to conduct the old rites. I was a Methodist seminarian in 2137 when I got the call from the New Christian Congregation."

"So you are a Catholic priest?" I asked.

"Oh, no," he insisted. "I'm still a Methodist, but I help Catholics and others find G.o.d through prayer and meditation. All that claptrap of confessionals and holy water and communion is gone. We just search for G.o.d and the Christ spirit through individual prayer."

"And by feeding the hungry on Clarkl," I interjected.

"No, that's how we make our money. We run our church with the funds the government pays us."

April 30, 2142 The Reverend Crocker came back today, wearing another expensive suit and bringing along his wife, a comely woman with a very direct manner.

"How nice to meet you at last, Miss Hope," she said. "Archie has been telling me how much you had been counting on the money Mrs. Aperson left for us."

I smiled demurely, knowing any other gesture would allow "Go to h.e.l.l!" to escape my lips.

"Actually, I was counting on my home, free and clear. I have the home, but it is about $450,000 from being paid for," I explained.

"Yes," Mrs. Crocker said, "we have the paperwork here, in Archie's briefcase."

I was stunned that weasel of a lawyer would give them my financial information, but they were the primary legatee and I was only a poor mortgagor.

"We have a proposal to make to you, dear," Mrs. Crocker went on. "We want you to work for us for ten years, and we will pay off your house while we use it for our charitable purposes. Then, you will be free to move back into the house and work at any profession."

I quickly said, "In ten years, I will be almost sixty years old, much too old to start teaching."

"Oh, no, my dear, not at all," Mrs. Crocker pressed. "The schools, both public and private, are expected to have a terrible dearth of teachers over the next twenty years as college graduates now are shunning those professions. You will be much sought after."

"What would you ask me to do for ten years?"

"Manage the financial end of our interests in Clarkl, that's what," she said. "We have a man who is ready to come back to America, and we need to replace him. It is a matter of gathering all kinds of statistics and reporting those to the New Christian Congregation."

I had taken several courses at Penn State in accounting and statistics, and I had enjoyed them. But I had never considered myself expert enough to earn money in those fields.

"I have many things I would want to store in the attic," I said. "I could allow you to have the rest of the house for your programs. Can you pay me something during those ten years?"

Mrs. Crocker nodded. "Yes, we will provide your transportation to Clarkl, put you up in a cabin, provide all your meals at one of our dining rooms, and give you an allowance of $500 per month. That will more than cover anything you would want to buy."

"And you will pay all expenses of the house, including the mortgages, the taxes, the utilities, and the maintenance?" I asked.

"Yes, based on these numbers for the balances for the mortgages. We will be happy to work with you on this exchange," Mrs. Crocker said.

The Reverend Crocker sat on the sofa, nodding, smiling, and sipping tea.

May 5, 2142 The Crockers came again today, and I was ready to sign the contract.

My research on Clarkl had not left me with much excitement about my home for the next ten years. The place was cold nearly every day, and the natives were not known for going out of their way to welcome Earthlings, even though we were responsible for feeding a large portion of them.

I agreed to be ready on June 10 to take a bus to Omaha to meet my s.p.a.ceflight. I agreed to have the house, except for the attic, ready for occupancy on June 8.

May 30, 2142 I have sold my car and some of Mrs. Aperson's silver. I now have $13,700 in the bank. I will take about $10,000 in Universal Gold with me to Clarkl, just enough to make me feel I could get home if I needed to.

June 2, 2142 All day shuttling between the attic and the first floor. I put the rest of the silver in the larger trunk and the two violins in the armoire. I did not disturb the smaller trunk, as always. I padlocked the door.

I called Ferdy today. I had not seen him since the funeral, and I had expected he would at least stop by to see how I was holding up. His wife was out and the maid took my message.

Certainly some cash should have gone to him! The will said he was forgiven for all his loans, but there was no tally of those or any listing of dates when they had been made.

My idea of the Judge's will, although I never actually saw it, was that Mrs. Aperson was to take care of Ferdy while she was alive and leave him something in her will. Ferdy was the Judge's only relative, and maybe she borrowed against the house to pay for all those years he fooled around at Yale.

Where did all the money go? We lived very economically.

June 5, 2142 Still no call from Ferdy. I suppose he received the message that I would be going to Clarkl, although my activities seem to make no difference to him since he married that ugly aluminum heiress.

The cleaning company came today. I allowed them into every room but the attic. They will finish with my bedroom in two days, and then I will be ready to leave.

How nice the kitchen looks! I was determined to replace all the appliances after I inherited the place, but they are all fresh and clean now.

June 10, 2142 A long day on the bus, with a stopover tonight in Indianapolis. So much farmland in western Ohio, and so different from the crowded cities of Pennsylvania.

The bus came very close to the sh.o.r.e of the Great Lake. The driver pointed out the remains of Cleveland.

We stopped in Columbus for lunch, two hours at a shopping center with several restaurants and two hotel dining rooms.

I have all my Universal Gold in my Bosom Buddy, and I heard the coins rattle several times. I stuffed the purse with linen napkins from the restaurant. I look like Mae West.

Tonight, we are at a very old Motel 6, with thin walls and a bottom sheet that was made for a smaller bed. The wakeup call will come at 5:30 a.m., and I am looking forward to seeing something of Illinois.

Chicago, of course, will be gone.

June 11, 2142 A relaxing trip from Indianapolis to Des Moines, with most of the original travelers discharged. At last I was able to get a window seat.

I should have bought an extra ticket. That would have a.s.sured me of a reservation.

June 12, 2142 At a small hotel near the s.p.a.ceport, paid for by the New Christians. Very clean, very elegantly furnished.

The s.p.a.cecraft will leave on June 14, according to the receptionist. She recommended I see something of Omaha tomorrow, especially the reenergized cattle ranches.

There was meat in the hotel's restaurant, a small dining room that is highly rated by the locals. I have not seen beef offered on a menu since 2115. The price for a steak was just eye-popping, but the meals are being picked up by the church.

This may be my last steak for ten years. The Clarklians are vegetarians, and our dining rooms never serve meat. At the rate we are reimbursed for the food, we could never afford to offer meat, anyway.

June 13, 2142 A nice day today in Omaha, accompanied by a young man I met in the hotel's lobby.

We toured the city on a bus with a tour guide, and we enjoyed a nice romp in the hay to end the day. He is back to a client's site tomorrow, and I am off to Clarkl. Two s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sing in the night. More energetic than Ferdy in the sack, but not as well endowed.

How apprehensive I am about the trip to Clarkl! Those s.p.a.cecrafts have never met with any accident, and no pa.s.senger has ever been killed. The Americans are close to developing a craft that will travel to Clarkl, but the ones furnished by other planets are always a safe ride. My apprehension is my fear of new places and new responsibilities.

June 16, 2142 All settled into the craft for the three-month trip. A small cabin on the second from the bottom deck.

The top deck has the really s.p.a.cious cabins, with large bathrooms and large beds. The bottom deck has two or three pa.s.sengers in each room, with a tiny shower bath to share. Our deck has single rooms with small beds and the same shower baths. We have a shared bathtub down the hall, but I am used to the showers.

Plenty of water, both hot and cold, though. The craft makes its own water continually.

The food is the same as the Church serves to the Clarklians. Some dishes are really fine, and others are mediocre. Mrs. Aperson's favorite corn pudding, the one she took to every potluck supper, is here, with a tastier recipe that uses nutmeg.

Our craft is full of people going to Clarkl to cook, so the dining room is their responsibility. I am on the clean-up crew every other day, with all other time free.

The Church has given me a forty-page book that shows the statistics gathered and the reports produced from those statistics. I have read the book twice so far, and it looks like an easy job. If people send me the numbers, that is.

Lots of time to think over what might have gone wrong with Mrs. Aperson. Where did all that money go?