Miss Julia Hits the Road Read Online Free PDF

lane ended in a dirt turn-around. The field ran some distance beyond the houses, ending in a wooded ridge that didn’t seem suitable for any kind of development to me. But then, developers see possibilities where most folks see cliffs and gullies and sheer mountainsides.
    Willow Lane, I thought, and not a willow in sight. Large oak trees lined the street, their branches forming a shady canopy overhead. The small houses, no more than four or five on each side, were all alike: shotgun style with small banistered porches. They were made of weathered clap-boards, many of them listing to one side or the other on foundations of stacked rocks. I’d often driven Lillian home, so I knew the place well. Her house, at least from the outside, was well cared for. Flowers blooming in pots and cans on her front porch testified to that, as did the dirt yard that was kept raked in neat lines, reminding me of a Japanese garden I’d once seen. And, knowing her, it would be just as well-kept on the inside.
    The more I thought about it, the madder I got. From the looks of those houses, Clarence Gibbs had not put a nickel into their upkeep, letting them deteriorate year after year. No wonder he was able to get the town council to condemn them.
    “I just wish I knew why he suddenly needs that property,” I said, trying to figure out what scheme Clarence Gibbs had in mind.
    “They no tellin’, Miss Julia, but we seen him walkin’ ’round up on that ridge back of us, goin’ in an’ out the trees. He bring some men one time with him, look like they measurin’ something.”
    “Surveying, sounds like,” I said.
    I thought about that for a minute, bringing my newly realized—as of Wesley Lloyd’s passing—business sense to bear. “It’s got to be something commercial,” I said. “Nothing else would be worth more than residential rentals.”
    “I don’ know, Miss Julia,” she said, looking as unsettled as I’d ever seen her. “All I know’s we got to move, an’ the time comin’ up on us fast. But they’s nowhere to go, ’cept places that cost more’n anybody got the money to pay.”
    “Oh,” I said, taken aback at the reminder that not everybody could just write a check for whatever they wanted. Of course, I knew what Lillian had to live on because I knew what I paid her. I’d been proud of myself for raising her salary after Wesley Lloyd’s demise, and I’d given her bonuses and raises every year since. Yet when I mentally compared her income to my own, it didn’t amount to a hill of beans.
    Because of my late husband’s estate, I could do whatever I wanted, and I was often brought up short when I realized that that wasn’t the case for everybody.
    Still, not everybody’d had to put up with Wesley Lloyd Springer and the shame he’d left me with, so I considered his estate a just compensation.
    “Well, you certainly have a place to go. I want you to move in here, right up there in Coleman’s rooms which he no longer needs, and you can stay as long as you want.”
    “That’s real nice of you, Miss Julia, an’ I thank you for it. But I don’t know what ever’body else’s gonna do, an’ you know I want my own place.”
    “I understand that, but at least you have somewhere to come to until you find something. Oh, Lord, Lillian,” I said, overwhelmed with what she’d been holding inside. “I am just so sorry this is happening. But, now listen, all is not lost. There may still be some legal avenues to look into. Still, though, if you only have a day or two, we need to get you packed up and moved. Then we’ll see what can be done.”
    She just shook her head. “I think it too late, Miss Julia. Coleman, he been comin’ by, an’ he all tore up ’cause the sheriff sent him to serve that notice.”
    “My Lord,” I said, realizing that I’d been doing an awful lot of calling on the Deity lately. But I certainly needed to call on somebody, since no one had had the decency to let me know what was going on.