When Abigail Van Horton found Jenna, she felt that her prayers had been answered.
Abigail was old and needed help, but more importantly, she was lonely. She had never married, and her family was all either dead or — gone. Lord knows she was more than rich enough to afford a companion. But Abigail’s crotchety ways made it difficult for her to find someone to fill the live-in position. Abigail had been through five different women in as many months, and each had quit on her after just a few weeks because Abigail’s bullying ways were just too much to put up with.
The warm sparkle in Jenna’s eyes promised the patience of a saint, and her youthful humor gave her sufficient buoyancy to put up with anything–even Abigail — and keep smiling.
From the beginning, Abigail felt a strong affection for the pleasant young woman, and she made an honest effort to really behave herself. But it was a strain. Within a few short weeks, she’d returned to her old domineering habits. After three months, however, it looked like Jenna was going to stay no matter how much Abigail carried on.
“Good morning,” Jenna said brightly as she drew the drapes then placed Abigail’s morning tray on the bed.
“In the future, my dear,” said Abigail, dropping a cube of sugar into her cup of tea, “could you please draw the drapes a little less noisily?”
Jenna smiled. “It’s a beautiful day, Miss Abigail, and a little sunshine never hurt anybody.”
“Then do it quietly, please! And meanwhile, my pillows desperately need plumping.”
Jenna fluffed the pillows, smoothed the hand-stitched quilt that covered the generous bed, and straightened Abigail’s bed jacket, retying the bow neatly under her chin. “There, Miss Abigail. You look like a picture. Is there anything else you need before I go back downstairs?”
Abigail felt coddled–a feeling she relished. If Abigail had had a daughter, she would have wanted her to be like Jenna.
One evening, Abigail sat in the overstuffed chair in her library, a book resting unread in her lap as she fondly watched Jenna building a fire.
Her attention caught Jenna’s, and the young girl looked up, asking, “Where’s your family?”
“My parents, of course, are dead, and my little sister, my only sister, ran away from home when she–when she was much younger,” Abigail said. “I tried a few years back to find out what happened to her, but those damned detectives…. Willing to keep taking my money forever, but couldn’t find hide nor hair of her.
Jenna’s expression darkened. “That’s such a sad story,” she said, “not to be able to find your only kin. I don’t have any family left either. I know how it feels.”
After that night, Jenna began to ask Abigail to tell her more about her family and her youth. The more interest Jenna showed, the more pleasure Abigail took in the recounting. She loved to watch the glow in Jenna’s eyes as she listened.
“Please tell me more about Celeste,” Jenna would plead, and Abigail would spin stories of a wonderful childhood with her loving sister, carefully avoiding any hint of the unpleasant times.
“She puts up with a lot from me,” Abigail explained to her lawyer as they sat in the library going over the changes in the elderly woman’s will. “I know I’m not always the easiest person to live with, and Jenna is so patient with me. It’s very much like having a daughter.” Though I do wish she were less drawn to my stories about Celeste, Abigail thought to herself.
The next morning was cleaning day. Abigail directed as Jenna stood on the step ladder to dust the sepia-toned family portraits hanging along the wall of the upstairs landing. Jenna lingered over the one of Celeste, taking special care to clean the glass. Her face beside the portrait kindled Abigail’s imagination.
“It’s amazing that I never noticed the strong resemblance between you and Celeste. It’s no wonder I feel closer to you than I would to just an employee.”
The feather duster stopped and Jenna’s shoulders straightened ever so slightly.
“Over the months you’ve been with me I’ve come to think of you more as a family member than a servant.”
Jenna stepped down off the ladder and turned to face Abigail, still silent.
“Truthfully, I’ve done more than just think. I’ve taken action. You should know that I’ve changed my will.” Abigail paused to let her announcement sink in. “Yes dear, I’ve left everything to you. I’ve grown that fond of you.” Abigail, expecting to see that familiar glow in Jenna’s eyes, opened her arms in welcome.
Jenna walked slowly toward Abigail, her arms also open. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me,” Jenna said softly as she hugged her. “I’ve been waiting a very long time for this moment. It’s fitting that you only now noticed the resemblance between Celeste and myself,” she said, her voice taking an edge.
Abigail pulled back from Jenna questioningly. The look in the young girl’s eyes was not what she’d expected.
Jenna grabbed her wrists and continued speaking. “You abandoned your baby sister when she needed you most, turned her out, pregnant and unmarried, without a penny to her name. Celeste, whose distraught life ended in drunken suicide, told me all about you. And your cruel refusal to help her drove her to a despair from which she never recovered.”
Jenna maneuvered Abigail closer to the top of the stairs. “I swore I would even the score, and this is my chance. After you’re gone, I’ll be enjoying all of the things you withheld from Celeste. Your home. Your fine things. Your money.”
Abigail’s face registered surprise at Jenna’s tone, then fear. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?”
“Because, my dear, Celeste was my mother.”
The last thing Abigail saw was the cold glare of hatred in Jenna’s familiar eyes as she pushed her down the stairs.
