Legacy of Love. Christine Johnson
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father owned the garage too? Did he sell that? Is Hendrick out of work?”
“Both properties sold,” Ma said, “but the new owner wants to keep the garage open.”
At least her brother would have an income until the factory turned a profit. “I still don’t understand why we have to leave. You would think the new owner would want the rental income.”
Ma sighed. “Percival Landers charged a very low rent.”
“Are you saying he gave us charity?”
“Mr. Landers treated us with Christian kindness, especially after your father’s death. I can’t count the times he helped Hendrick keep the garage going. You can’t blame him for selling the property.”
Anna could. Ma might call it Christian kindness, but it didn’t sound like it to her. No wonder Hendrick wanted to strike out on his own. No wonder he wanted to make a go of it with his factory. At least he could call it his.
“We’re poor.” Though she’d always known it, saying the word stung.
“No, dearest. We’re richer than the wealthiest man alive, for we have each other and we have God’s love.”
Anna did not point out that the richest man on earth might also have a family and love God.
Ma offered a gentle smile. Despite losing the love of her life when Papa died, she’d never spoken a word of regret. She gave to all who needed consoling and spent many hours at bedsides and baking for the bereaved.
How blessed Anna was to have her for a mother. She bit her lip to stem the tears, but a sniffle escaped nonetheless. If Ma could stay positive, so could she. “Then we’ll be the richest people at Terchie’s.”
Ma laughed, her cheeks rounding, and Anna couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, some way, they’d survive.
“I love you, Ma, and I’m sorry for getting upset.”
“I know, dearest, and I’m sorry I—” A sharp rap on the front door interrupted her midsentence. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” Anna pulled herself to her feet. A hundred worries bounced through her head, but this time she wouldn’t let them take root. “I’ll see who it is.”
She opened the front door. There stood Brandon Landers, his gray eyes dark and his expression unreadable. She flushed at the sight of his perfectly proportioned nose and nicely spaced eyes.
“Miss Simmons.”
“Mr. Landers.” She ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks. Why was she reacting this way? He was the enemy.
“Is your mother here?”
He looked into her eyes just for a second, but that single glance did her in. Every thought fled her mind.
“Mr. Brandon,” Ma said as she wiggled beside Anna. “It’s so good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”
“No. I think not.” He cleared his throat. “I have a proposition for you.” Again he glanced at Anna. Again her pulse raced. “The Landers property includes a carriage house. Perhaps you’re acquainted with it?”
Anna nodded dumbly. She’d passed by the Landers estate many a time and as a child dreamed of stepping inside the house that looked like a castle. The gray stone walls and verdigris roof could have graced an English country house. A fence of stone shrouded the property from view, but she’d climbed that fence as a child and had walked its length, dreaming of one day exploring the pretty little carriage house with its dusty windows and the big old house that simply had to contain secret passages.
Brandon cleared his throat, pulling Anna back to the present. “Good, good. Perhaps you aren’t aware that it contains a small apartment, quite small, smaller than this bungalow and much older, but it might suffice.”
Anna blinked. “Suffice for what?”
“For you. Both of you. You said your brother lives elsewhere.”
“As does Peter, my foster son,” said Ma. “They both live at Constance House.”
He nodded solemnly. “Good. It’s only large enough for two. One bedchamber, a small sitting room and a washroom. Would that be adequate?”
“More than adequate,” Ma bubbled. “We don’t need much space now that my boys are gone.”
Anna stared at her mother. Hadn’t she just claimed the opposite? “Where would we cook our meals?”
“You may use the kitchen in the house. It has a separate entrance.”
“Perfect.” Ma clapped her hands together. “We accept.”
“Good,” he said. “Then it’s settled.”
Anna shook her head, trying to grapple with what he was saying. “You’re offering to lease us your carriage house?”
“Just the apartment and it wouldn’t be a lease.”
Anna dropped her gaze. “We can’t afford to buy.”
“No, you misunderstand me.” He shuffled slightly, placing his weight on the stronger leg. “It seems we each have a need. You need a place to live, and I need a housekeeper. If you are agreeable to the arrangement, I would like to offer you the use of the apartment in exchange for housekeeping services. Two or three times a week should be sufficient.”
Housekeeping? He wanted her to clean his house? When he’d taken her side against Sally, she’d thought he understood how demeaning it was to be a servant. Apparently not. He was just like the rest of the rich people who lived on the hill.
“You want me to clean your house?” Anna sputtered.
He flushed. “Certainly not. That would be highly inappropriate. I was hoping Mrs. Simmons would take the position. You should be able to fit it in around your other work.”
Ma wasted no time agreeing to the plan. “That would be wonderful. Oh, Mr. Brandon, how can we ever thank you? Of course we’ll take it. It’s perfect, isn’t it, Anna?”
Perfect? Living on Brandon Landers’s charity? Living in what must be servants’ quarters? It wasn’t perfect; it was humiliating.
“No, thank you,” Anna said stiffly. “We can’t accept. It’s quite out of the question.”
“But Anna,” Ma said.
She couldn’t stand to even look at the man. First he had forced Ma and her from their home, and now he wanted to make them his servants. How dare he?
Without a word more, she slammed the door in his face.
Ma gasped, but Anna couldn’t let her mother’s desire for a larger home put them into servitude.
“I’m sorry, Ma. But we can’t live there. It’s not right.”
“Why not? It’s the answer to my prayers.”
Anna cringed. Prayer had not brought Brandon Landers into their lives. He only cared about money. Any man with an ounce of compassion would not first evict them and then make them his servants.
She stormed into the kitchen. “I’m done discussing this, Ma. I will never live in Brandon Landers’s carriage house, and I certainly won’t have you cleaning his house.”
“But it’s a place to live at no cost.”
Anna saw the pain in Ma’s eyes, but she couldn’t subjugate herself, not even for Ma. “We’ll find something else.”
She angrily pulled pans from the cupboard. They all had to be sold. Moreover, the clatter overwhelmed Ma’s soft voice. After frequent attempts to speak, her mother gave up and left the room.
Fine. Let Ma stew about it. It wouldn’t change her mind. Yes, she did feel a bit guilty that she’d