Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

be a drunk and a failure, no one would ever think any good could come of it.” Homer’s eyes filled again. “ ‘But in this job,’ she said, ‘you could consider it an advantage.’ ”
    Dashiell got up and put his head on Homer’s knee.
    “But sometimes what I hear,” he continued, “it’s got nothing to do with what I was hired for. You know what I’m saying?”
    “I do.”
    “Sometimes I find out things in other ways,” he said.
    “A piece of paper in the trash.”
    Homer nodded a little too enthusiastically.
    “Hey, you’re human, right? You’re curious.”
    “I never go through the files or nothing. Just sometimes there’s something right on top of the desk when I’m cleaning up. It’s hard not to look.”
    “I figure you know about as much as anyone,” I told him. “Some would think that.”
    “Before I came today, Homer, did you hear anything yourself? From the big powwow in the dining room?“
    „Seemed like the sister wasn’t too happy. Those spoiled kids of hers either. Mr. Dietrich wasn’t like that. You could see he was rich all right. But he was a regular guy, too. He wasn’t a showoff, like them.”
    “What were they miffed about?”
    “That Bailey thinks it’s going to be him doing Mr. Dietrich’s job, managing investments, and making financial decisions for Harbor View. I always thought Nathan was preparing himself for that, with his MBA degree and all that fund-raising he does. Maybe he thought Mr. Dietrich would move down to Florida, get hisself a boat, take it easy for a change. If anyone could afford to do that, he could. But it’s too late for that now.”
    “What about Samuel? If Nathan thought he’d take over for Mr. Dietrich, did Samuel think he’d take over for his father one day?”
    “You can’t take care of the kids with singing and dancing, Rachel. These poor souls have serious problems. They need medical care.
    “Oh, it’s not that Sammy didn’t try. There’s nothing he would a liked better’n that, as devoted as he is.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The story I heard was that he was in medical school, and pffft. Couldn’t cut it. Had the brains for it, but not the stomach.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Molly did. She’s known them boys forever. She was their nanny before she came here.”
    “No kidding.”
    “Cross my heart,” he said. And he did.
    “So Samuel. He was in medical school, but he flunked out?”
    “Oh, Mr. Samuel is a smart one. Don’t kid yourself. He’s always reading something, that one, wouldn’t step on the subway without a book. And listening to his music, the classics and opera. He didn’t flunk out. He passed out. Fainted at his first autopsy, first year in.”
    “But lots of people do that and get by the squeamishness and go on to be fine—”
    Or go on to be psychiatrists, I thought, doctors who can’t stand the sight of blood.
    “Not this one. He’s here late, he wants a snack, Molly leaves the tomato sauce off his pasta, gives him a little oil and garlic instead. Someone gets cut, or falls, it’s not Samuel you call. It’s Dr. Eli or me or Molly, that tough old bird. He’s always been like that, squeamish. Not Molly. You should see what that woman can handle, and the strength of her, at her age. She can lift some of them, grown-ups, nearly her own size, as if they were babes in arms. Gets them to take their pills, go to bed on time, bathe when they don’t want to—she can handle anything. A find, that’s what she is for a place like this. But so is Samuel, in his own way. Couldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps, the way he wanted to, but he does a world of good here with his little classes every night, a world of good.”
    “What about the poster family for overindulgence? Have they ever done anything here? And what about the wives?“
    “What wives?”
    “Harry’s wife, before she got sick? And Eli’s?”
    “Eli’s wife died when the boys were young. That’s why they had Molly. She lived with them, in Brooklyn, while the boys were growing up.”
    “And now?”
    “She lives here, Rachel. I thought you knew.”
    “No, I didn’t.” But I hadn’t seen where anyone could either. I assumed when Venus stayed, she slept on the couch in her office. But where would Molly sleep? I asked Homer.
    “Up top.Southeast comer, nice and quiet, overlooking the garden. Small, but she don’t seem to mind.”
    “Do you live here, too?”
    “Not me, Rachel. Venus offered. But