LINE 28 / Part 1
From the sideboard in the breakfast room where Amelia kept her linen, Elizabeth chose the sun-yellow tablecloth, papaya-orange placemats and ruby-red napkins she had given her mother for mother's day a few years back. The bright colors stood out from stacks of white on white, and Elizabeth was certain that her mother had never used them. "We're even on that one," she chuckled, "never use any of the stuff she gives me either." The thought put her in a good mood and surprisingly gave her space to enjoy the Martha-Stewarty-feeling that settled on her mind as she cut white and yellow roses from the bushes, framing the white marble patio on three sides. She arranged the flowers in one of her mother's beautiful heirloom crystal vases and placed them in the center of the table where they created a striking visual effect by perfectly complementing her mother's heirloom white and golden china.
"Well that looks nice," Amelia said, armed with an enormous breadbasket full of just now baked muffins and scones. "There is toast too but I guess I wait until you're all seated and bring it out then. Why don't you go and get Julia? Oh, and I poured a cup of coffee for you. It is on the counter."
"Thanks mom," said Elizabeth, practically flying into the kitchen. She grabbed the delicate cup, inhaled the delicious aroma of the fresh coffee, took a big sip and burnt her mouth. "Darn!" the ensuing reflex motion designed to get away from the offending beverage caused some coffee to spill on the floor and onto her blouse. "Shoo! I'll never get this out," she muttered angrily watching the coffee stain as it expanded on the lavender colored silk. "Always something to spoil my day in this place!" and taking a paper towel she kneeled down to soak the spillage off the tiles.
Running up the stairs, her first impulse was to head back to her room and change her soiled garment - then rejected the idea. There was enough time for that while Julia got ready for breakfast. She knocked on the guestroom door, timidly at first, then a little bit louder. When there still was no answer she opened the door just a crack.
"Rise and shine darling! It's a beautiful day and grandma made her awesome breakfast."
She was used to Julia's non-responsiveness in the morning. Usually it took a good shaking and pulling the blanket off her body to get the girl out of bed. Anyhow that was how she did it. Peter used to go inside and tickle his daughter awake. Either way she thought, I have to go inside. Feeling somewhat victimized by the circumstances, which forced her to violate their no-entry-until-prompted-in-agreement, she touched the side of her thumb and opened the door all the way.
The room was empty.
Oh, she thought, that's a first. My daughter up before ten on a no-school day. "Julia, breakfast is ready!" advancing towards the closed bathroom door, "you think you could be downstairs inside of five?"
No response. Only when she put her ear to the door to better hear what was going on inside did she notice that the bed was made. "Julia come on, please answer!"