"We have the gallery showing next week," Shelby said, over a dinner of yeast blocks highlighted by generous servings of fresh radishes and salt to dip them in. "I want this one to be the best one ever."
"It will be, dearest," Auntie Neza replied and took a bite of her own radish. She crunched through it with open enjoyment. "How did you get to keep these radishes, Veronica? I thought you were selling everything you grew to the Dappled Yak. Not that I'm complaining."
Veronica smiled and bit into her own sharp, peppery radish. "These were meant for raw eating and the owner's mother was there when I stopped in. She was horrified they didn't look like magazine pictures. Too lumpy and they had spots."
"Oh, good heavens," Neza said. Florence and Lulu nodded. Turning up your nose at fresh radishes because they were misshapen? The silliness of some people.
"Gallery showing! Hello? That's what's coming up," Shelby said, looking annoyed. "We need to be ready."
Veronica smiled winningly at her little sister, annoying Shelby still further. "We will be."
"It's a special show. The biggest one of the year. Everyone will be there."
"They're all special shows," Lulu said. "You say this every time."
"Yep, sure do," Florence added. "Lulu and me have to study. Big test tomorrow. Thanks for the radishes, Veronica. They are a treat. The soup you made from the leaves was good too."
Florence snagged the last radish, rolled it in salt, and crunched it slowly, savoring every bite of fresh vegetable. She and Lulu got up from the table and headed upstairs to the room they shared.
"I'll get the washing up done later," Lulu called out as the two girls left the kitchen table and headed into the hallway. "I'll need a break from anatomy in a few hours."
"Thank you," Veronica said.
Neza added "I'll be done darning your socks soon."
Florence and Lulu had been terrific additions to the White Elephant household. Veronica always felt so lucky to meet them at the local metro stop in the transtube. They were both nursing students at Panschin Community College and they wanted to live close to school in Dome Two, but in something they could afford.
Veronica couldn't, by the terms of the lease, have boarders but she was allowed, by that same lease, to have live-in household help. It was weird and snobbish, but an exploitable loophole. She couldn't afford to pay Florence and Lulu like she would have to pay real maids, but they couldn't afford to pay a boarding house for meals and lodgings and get some of the independence they longed for.
They worked out a deal. Florence and Lulu paid with housework – always desperately needed in a pile the size of the White Elephant, particularly since it was located in Dome Two -- and threw a few coins to Veronica when they could. In exchange, Veronica provided a nice, furnished room for the girls to share, meals, any other assistance she could including dealing with the college's bureaucracy and editing research papers, and fresh produce from the garden. It had been eating a fresh tomato that had sealed the deal. Neither Florence nor Lulu had ever eaten one before and the taste had been a revelation.
Since that meeting over a year ago, Florence and Lulu had become part of the family, a family formed by need as opposed to blood. In Veronica's experience, water was often thicker than blood despite what people claimed. Her own relatives had provided ample proof when they turned their back on her and her sister, despite all previous protests of how close the family was and how the Bradwells stuck together through thick and thin.
With Florence and Lulu gone, Veronica turned back to Shelby who was scribbling an angry doodle into her ever-present sketchbook, one that strongly resembled an evil, sneering Veronica with added devil horns and twirling a whip-like tail.
"Shelby," Veronica said while suppressing a sigh, "the show will be fine. We'll get the house swept down, the ballroom scrubbed down, the windows wiped down, I'll rake all the paths again, I've got fresh veg coming along nicely that will be ready for nibble trays, and I've made arrangements for eggs."
Auntie Neza and Shelby both gasped. Shelby set her pencil down and left the sketched Veronica's feet unfinished. She had been on the verge of cloven hoofs.
"Eggs? Really?" Neza said. "We haven't had eggs in over a year."
"Oh Veronica," Shelby said. "That's wonderful. Did you get very many?"
Veronica looked smug. "Two dozen. I'll devil them and cut them into quarters to make them go further. Mrs. Grisson couldn't promise any more than that. She's got other clients and they pay cash."
"What did you have to trade to get them?" Neza asked suspiciously. "You already compost everything her chickens would eat."
"Shelby's going to draw portraits of all her grandchildren."
"You promised my work without asking me?" Shelby asked. "How could you?"
"You want a successful show or not?" Veronica asked, her eyes narrowed. She glared at her sister. "A treat like deviled eggs might encourage people to buy those ugly paintings."
"They're not ugly. They are avant-garde."
"Okay, they're not ugly. They're hideous and no sane person will buy them, even with eggs as a bribe," Veronica retorted.
"These paintings will sell! I think we finally found our audience. Professor Vitebskin says all the right people will be here," Shelby snapped back. "That's why this show is so important."
"You think? He found an audience for paintings of mud? This is Panschin! People see nothing but dirt and terraformers every damn day! Paint landscapes and flowers and portraits of people's kids. Why don't any of you paint those things? Those paintings would sell."
"Veronica, you just don't understand. You are so bourgeois."
"Bourgeois people can pay their debts. They don't have bill collectors stopping by their house on a regular basis," Veronica snarled back.
Auntie Neza rapped her cane on the floor, in a bid for attention.
"Now, now girls," she said soothingly. "Let's not fight."
She smiled and winked at Veronica, then turned her attention back to Shelby. "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, dear girl. But I don't think you're worried about the cause of avant-garde art or Veronica volunteering you when it's for such a good reason. What is it really?"
Shelby looked away and began pleating her napkin, worn thin from decades of use, into folds, then spread the napkin flat again, and began pleating it in the opposite direction. Veronica and Neza, recognizing this familiar nervous habit, waited for her to speak. They both knew from long experience that Shelby wouldn't talk until she felt able.
She didn't look up again until she had the napkin twisted into a spiral. "What if," Shelby began and stopped. "What if Mrs. Grisson doesn't like my drawings? I may not be able to draw good, accurate portraits of her grandchildren."
"Yes, you can," Veronica said, mentally condemning Professor Vitebskin to the bottom of the nearest mineshaft where he could die of thirst in the dark if broken bones from the fall didn't get him first. That self-righteous idiot had made Shelby doubt every bit of her artistic abilities. "You have real talent."
"You do lovely work, dear girl," Neza added. "Besides, Mrs. Grisson has seen your drawings of us. She knows you can do it."
"You showed her?" Shelby gasped, paled and started twisting the napkin again. Neza put her arthritis-stiffened hand over Shelby's own, both to reassure her and to keep her from damaging the napkin still further.
"Yes, I did," Veronica answered patiently. "She loved them. Do you want eggs or not?"
Shelby fiddled with the napkin as she thought of how a good show for the PanU Artists' Collective -- especially if actual sales for real money were involved -- might help her win more acceptance with the other students. Mrs. Grisson wouldn't judge her the way they did, the way Professor Vitebskin did. She didn't know anything about fine art. She dropped her 'h's and lived by her wits. She raised chickens and guinea pigs on her rooftop terrace and slaughtered them herself. She rented out rooms to boarders, cooked for them and washed their laundry. What did her opinion matter? Her hands went still and she looked up at her sister.
"All right then." She set her jaw. "I'll do it. How many grandchildren does Mrs. Grisson have anyway?"
"Five or six," Veronica said. "She wasn't real clear. I think her younger daughter's got a new boyfriend with a kid of his own and this one might be a keeper."
"A blessing to be sure," Neza said. She smiled fondly at both of her grandnieces. Her life had improved immeasurably when they had sought refuge in her home. They had given her warmth, love, companionship, and filled up an echoing, empty house.
Shelby's eyes lit up. "Does this mean I can buy another sketchpad?" she asked hopefully. "I'd like to do bigger sketches and some studies, you know, have room to catch their character better."
Veronica smiled with relief and glanced over at the cracked, bright yellow cookie jar. "We might be able to manage that." She eyed her sister and decided to throw her a bone. "Maybe even some pencils."
"Ooh, that would be nice," Shelby said, her eyes going very wide. As Veronica hoped, her sister was distracted by the now all-important decision of which shade and hardness of charcoal pencil she needed the most.
The three women sat quietly in the early evening light, no one especially eager to leap up, despite all the tasks waiting for them before the light failed. They were all occupied by their own thoughts. The quiet was broken suddenly, when the rusty gate in the low stone wall surrounding the White Elephant creaked its warning. The sound easily carried through the open windows.
"That's strange," Veronica said, suddenly alert.
She glanced over at the calendar on the wall, one Shelby had salvaged from the recycling bin in the art department at PanU when no one was looking. This month's picture was of a fluffy black and white kitten wearing a vivid red bow around its neck to contrast with its bright green eyes. The unacceptable illustrations of adorable kittens were the reason a current calendar had been discarded long before its time. Someone, no one knew who, had smuggled it into the studio and pinned it to the wall. According to Shelby, it hadn't taken long for Professor Vitebskin to spot the calendar, stomp around the studio roaring in outrage, and toss it into the bin for an eventual and much deserved pulping.
"There's no one who's made an appointment for mending or produce. Florence or Lulu would have said something if their boyfriends were coming for a visit."
"Best to see who it is, Veronica," Neza said. A worried look crossed her face. "It might be important."
Veronica, followed by Shelby and much more slowly, Neza, rose and headed for the doorway leading to the hallway and the grand central atrium after that. It was possible, she thought, that someone had answered her ad and was looking for a room for the night. She thought of money for the lease and smiled in anticipation. The guest book lay open and waiting on the polished table in the atrium before the large front door. The grand front door didn't have a knocker anymore, so the creaky gate acted as an early warning.
She opened the door just as someone knocked sharply on the other side.
"Hello," Veronica said, smiling brightly at the stranger looming in the doorway. It was a large doorway and he was a large man, filling it up. He stayed on the doorstep and didn't try to come in.
"You the lease holder of this fine establishment?" the stranger asked. His accent held a slight hiss, not from anywhere in Panschin that Veronica was familiar with. He was neatly dressed in a basic business suit, rather than the ubiquitous coverall, but it, like his accent, was subtly wrong compared to what she was used to hearing and seeing on the streets of Panschin. He had shaved his head, another oddity in the streets of Panschin.
Her heart sank.
"Uh, yes, I am," she replied.
Truthfully, Neza held the lease but Veronica wasn't about to let her elderly great-aunt, the woman who had given her and her sister a home, be bullied by some officious stranger from the bank.
"You interested in subletting? Moving to a nicer part of town? My boss is very interested in this house."
"Excuse me?"
'Who was this man,' Veronica thought. At least he wasn't from the bank. The Second National Bank of Panschin strenuously disapproved of subletting and was likely to throw everyone out if they caught wind of such illegalities, along with bringing suit against the original leaseholder. Veronica often wondered how Mrs. Grisson got away with her own very loose interpretation of the rules. Nerves of steel, she supposed. There was also the fact that Mrs. Grisson didn't labor under the multiple handicaps that the Bradwell family did.
"Are you deaf? My boss wants your house."
Veronica stared up at his hard, unfriendly face and found her voice.
"I am not deaf. I heard you fine. You just surprised me, that's all. And the answer is no. This is our home and we're not moving. Good day."
She started to slam the door in his face and the stranger shoved his large foot in the way, forcing it to stay open. He pushed his head over the threshold. He took a quick look around, taking in the wide, carved double staircase leading to the upper floor, the gracious atrium walls adorned with elaborate molding designed to impress visitors, and the views into spacious rooms that opened off the hallway on both sides. Then he leered openly at her, raking his eyes across her body.
"This is a good house and my boss wants it. I want you to think about where you gonna move to. You can have some time, but not much."
Veronica meet his cold, ice blue eyes and said firmly, "No. Leave right now or I am calling the police."
The stranger stared down at her for a long, long moment as Veronica's mouth went dry and then dryer but she glared back up at him, willing him to say something and refusing to step back a single centimeter.
"I'm going. Start looking for another place to live."
He stepped back and Veronica slammed the door closed, grateful for its heavy weight for the first time. She locked it at once, turned and sagged against the door in relief. She saw her sister and aunt staring at her from the hallway door, their eyes wide. Neza was leaning on her cane, a sure sign her joints were hurting more than usual.
"What was that about?" Shelby asked. "He's not from the bank."
"I don't know," Veronica said, her voice raspy. She coughed, trying to clear her throat. "Whoever that was, he must have made a mistake. Got the wrong house, I suppose."
"Do you really think so?" Shelby said.
Veronica eyed her sister and her aunt for a moment and thought about what to say to reassure them. Lulu and Florence came racing down the stairs. They must have heard the gate too, followed by the sound of the door opening, but then being slammed shut, something that never happened. They all had enough troubles without adding unfounded fears to the mix. Shelby in particular was liable to let her imagination run away with her. That was the problem with being artistic; it led to a taste for unwarranted drama.
"Yes, I'm positive," Veronica said, forcing herself to sound calm. She was relieved her nerves didn't show. "Why would anyone want this house? It's not that special. There are plenty more going begging in Dome Two. They're all white elephants, just like this one."
"Not like this one," Neza said dryly. "Our White Elephant is white. Those white elephants are all covered with terraformers from top to bottom."
Shelby giggled suddenly. "They're blotchy elephants, every shade of gray and green and brown."
Veronica chuckled weakly. "Yes, they are. Shelby, why don't you help Neza back to the kitchen. Florence? Do you have any more of your joint medicine? Lulu, got a minute?"
Veronica waited quietly with Lulu in the atrium as the last of the sunlight poured down the stairwell from the larger roof opening two floors above. It would soon be replaced by the dimmer, cooler, reflected light bouncing from the underside of the dome. It never got completely dark inside Dome Two the way it did outside on the steppes. With the dome blocking the way, there were never any stars to marvel at.
Lulu had a thoughtful expression on her face.
When she was sure Shelby, Neza, and Florence were all safely down the hall and in the kitchen, Lulu said, "you're worried, aren't you?"
"Yep," Veronica said. "I do think it was a mistake and that, that, oaf had the wrong house. But even so, somebody somewhere wants something and we don't want to be in the way." She shuddered, thinking of his lustful eyes as he ogled her figure.
"I'll ask Trevor to walk by the White Elephant whenever he can," Lulu said. "I know Florence's boyfriend will keep an eye out when he's off work too."
"You'll talk to Florence then?" Veronica asked. "I don't want Shelby to get upset, especially if this is all nothing like I think it is."
Lulu rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. You know? We're the same age, me and her and Florence, but sometimes she just seems so much like a little girl."
"Well, it's been really hard for her, since the scandal and our dad's suicide, and then mom dying," Veronica stopped explaining when she saw Lulu's disdainful expression.
"Life is hard for most of us, Veronica," the other girl said coolly. "We just have to get on with it. Like you do. Like Shelby should. I'll talk to Trevor as soon as I can."
"Thank you." It was easy to forget, Veronica realized again, how little Lulu talked about her childhood. She had reasons she didn't like sharing; reasons that didn't encourage sympathy for unfounded complaints or whining.
Veronica sighed. Lulu was right though. It was time to get on with it so she headed back into the kitchen to talk to Shelby and Neza.
Neza was sitting down with a cup of steaming mint tea in front of her, while Shelby massaged her aching hands until she could comfortably lift it. Florence was putting the lid back onto her little jar of salve, the one she had learned to make at nursing school using herbs from the PCC nursing department's extensive medicinal herb beds. It was one of the few parts of PCC that was above ground, sharing precious surface space on the PanU campus.
"Neza will be okay," Florence said.
"As okay as I'll ever be at this age," Neza added. Her eyes flicked over to Shelby and then back to Veronica. "You know, it feels a bit chilly. I think you should close and lock all the downstairs windows tonight."
Shelby smiled brightly. "What a good idea. I'll help you upstairs, auntie Neza. While you darn, I've got studying to do."
Florence lingered, while Shelby helped Neza back to her feet, fetched her cane, and helped her limp to the stairs. The run to the front door had taken its toll.
As soon as she heard their footsteps on the stairs, Florence said, "you never saw this guy before?"
"Never. Did you or Lulu get a good look at him?"
"No, I think only you did. We weren't fast enough down the stairs. Did Neza or Shelby see his face?" Florence asked.
"I don't think so."
"Weird." Florence's face lit up. "Ooh. I'll ask Evan to come around more, walk around the house and the neighborhood."
"Good idea," Veronica replied. "I already talked to Lulu about Trevor walking around. That guy will figure out he got the wrong address."
***********
Late that evening, after she checked all the locks on the doors and windows on the ground floor for the third time, Veronica stopped in to see auntie Neza. She found her aunt sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a taper. It was clear she had been waiting for Veronica. The unfinished darning lay next to Neza on the dresser, waiting for the brighter morning light.
"Shelby's fine, already asleep," Veronica said, answering an anticipated question.
"Good. I've been thinking it over and I've decided to go to the police station in the morning," Neza said.
Veronica stiffened and said, "do you really think there might be danger?"
"Probably not," Neza replied. "But I like being careful. I'll tell them I saw prowlers. The desk sergeant will listen to me since I'm a long-time resident of Dome Two. They know me and they know I don't make up things so they won't dismiss me out of hand, unlike some of the neighbors."
She sniffed disparagingly and Veronica knew she referred to the household two blocks over. That family had moved in recently from Dome Five and expected twice daily walk-by's from the local beat police.
Veronica considered this. "Do you think I should go as well?"
"Hmm. No, probably not. My complaint should do."
"I'll tell the neighbors," Veronica decided. "Starting with Mrs. Grisson. She knows everything that's going on and she might have heard something."
Neza settled back into her pillow with a contented sigh. "You take good care of us, Veronica."
******
In the morning, Veronica walked all around her tiny domain and inspected every window, every door, every path, along with the squeaky gate in the low stone wall. She discovered nothing out of the ordinary. It was reassuring and proof she was right. That man wasn't planning on robbing them or assaulting them; he had the wrong address. Nonetheless, she kept all the windows on the ground floor locked despite the slowly growing heat of spring in Dome Two. Mrs. Grisson and the other neighbors knew nothing about the situation, but they all promised to keep a lookout and, thanks to Neza's complaint, the local police walked by the White Elephant more regularly as part of their routine beat.
Mrs. Grisson did, however, have other disquieting news.
The local branch of the Second National Bank of Panschin, the leaseholder for everyone on their block, had taken on a new assistant manager. This man was reported to be a go-getter who wanted to 'get things done' and 'make improvements to the way we do business'. Her informant (Doris, one of the junior tellers who boarded with her) said he was reviewing all the leases the bank held, an action that hadn't taken place in decades, since the exodus to Dome Six began. Fortunately, according to Mrs. Grisson's informant, it would take years for him to work his way through all the filing cabinets and more years to read and digest all that fine print.
Days passed without incident, either from suspicious thugs or assistant bank managers, and Veronica began to relax again. The Panschin Biennial Mining Conference had begun with its possibility of guests for the White Elephant Bed and Breakfast, and the art show was fast approaching.