Miss Oliver At Home

Chapter Three

They were starting to feel settled in by the Lillian and Edwin headed to their first day of school the following Monday. Edwin was absolutely thrilled to be going back, eager to meet up with all his old friends and dive headfirst into school sports once again. He combed his hair with even less care than usual and Lillian had to argue with him for a while before he was quite presentable. His shirt kept coming mysteriously untucked.

For her part, Lillian was very calm, although Olivia knew that it inside she felt much more unsettled. Lillian did look pretty, with her wave of golden-brown hair falling across her forehead, almost obscuring her small, sharp eyes. She wore an organdy blouse and a neat, brown skirt. Olivia wished she could have splurged and outfitted her sister with a new dress.

The organdy blouse had originally been a whole dress of her own, which was too short to be fashionable anymore, and they had saved it by making it into something new. It pair nicely with  one of the plain and practical skirts that filled Lillian's wardrobe, but Olivia recalled the days when she had new dresses every season, all in the latest mode.

Of course, Lillian never complained. She stood tall, with her lips pressed neatly together, looking capable, confident, and just a bit prouder than she actually was. Olivia poked her affectionately.

"Have a wonderful day, Lillian. And be sure to let your friends know that they can drop by as soon we're settled."'

Olivia watched her siblings down the long, echoing stairs and out into the street, and hoped that Edwin's lunch would make it to school. For a moment, she wished she could go with them, to make new friends, and to learn. Instead she faced the dismal prospect of going back upstairs to tidy the apartment, make preparations for the evening's supper, and then rush off to work for the day. She sighed.

"Are you Miss Oliver?"

Olivia peeked over the landing to see a short, rather stout woman looking up at her. The woman's black hair, streaked with silver, puffed about her face like a halo, and her dark eyes were nearly lost in a sea of wrinkles as she smiled.

"Yes, I am," replied Olivia. "How do you do?"

"Very well indeed, my dear, only I'm not so good with stairs, so if you'll just come down here, we can shake hands properly and be acquainted."

Olivia smiled and tripped lightly down to meet her. When she extended her hand, it was engulfed by one of nearly twice the size.

"Are you Mrs. Moretti?" she asked.

"That's my name, dear, although I never was any missus. I'll be Miss Moretti until the day I die, which I hope is not for many years yet. There's so many interesting things to see and do in this world of ours. This depression, for instance. What is to become of us all? Sometimes I can't fall asleep at night, just for the excitement of thinking about it. And then you, dear, moving in upstairs, with all your elegant furniture and fixings. How many of you are there?"

"Three," Olivia replied. "My younger sister Lillian, brother Edwin, and I."

"And how old are you, Miss Oliver?"

"I am twenty two. And you may call me Olivia."

"What I wouldn't give to be young and tall again. Although really, I never was any taller than I am now. Olivia is a real romantic name, something to be proud off. How would you like to have a name like Edda? That's mine, and I think it's what's kept the men away for the last 35 years. No one fancied a dumpling like me would amount to much. If only Alberto Ricci could have tasted the chicken pie I make nowadays, he would have thought twice about running off with my cousin Bianca. Well, what's done is as good as over with. Won't you come in and have a chat with me? I've got some real good frittata left over from breakfast."