She stepped aside. and I led Heyden down the ball to Uncle Linden's room. I let-tacked and waited, but he didn't respond.
"Uncle Linden? It's Hannah." I said.
"Hannah? Come in, come in." we heard, and I opened the door.
He was sitting in the rocker. His hair looked more disheveled than usual, and he was wearing a thin short-sleeved shirt and a Fair of dungarees with his usual sandals. He looked as if he hadn't shaven far nearly a week. It took that long for his blond beard to show itself. He sat forward.
"Close the door." he leaned toward us to whisper as soon as we had entered.
I did so and glanced at Heyden, who looked more concerned than curious. Before I could introduce Heyden. Uncle Linden sat back and said. "Okay. Now that you are here, tell me exactly what happened."
'Happened? You mean with Mommy?'
"Of course. I spoke with her on the phone, and when I asked her about Thatcher, she said she didn't want to talk about him anymore. So?" he said.
"She doesn't like to talk about him. Uncle Linden. She says it's over and done with and that's that. It's been years and years anyway, so why bother?"
I smiled and stepped aside.
"I want you to meet a friend of mine, Uncle Linden, This is Heyden."
He glanced at Heyden and nodded quickly, barely acknowledging him.
"Why is it over and done with. Hannah? What happened?"
"When, Uncle Linden?"
"I don't know when." He thought for a moment. It could have happened anytime, I suppose. I warned her about that."
"Uncle Linden, you're just confused. I just told you. Mommy and Daddy have been apart for years and years. They rarely see each other and rarely speak to each other anymore. Everything they want to say to each other, they say through me. I'm the messenger and I hate it. In any case, nothing new has happened."
He smirked. "Sure. That's just Eaton
propaganda you're hearing. Nothing new. It's not new, but its not nothing, either," he said. He leaned back. "I knew when she wasn't coming around that something had happened. She's too trusting, too vulnerable. I tried to show her that in a picture I painted once, but she just didn't understand."
"Speaking of your pictures," I said, jumping on the opportunity to change the subject, "Heyden would love to see what you're working on now, Uncle Linden. I told him all about you, how many of your pictures have been in galleries and sold. Can we see your latest work? Mrs. Robinson told me you were at hard work on something new."
"I sold it," he replied quickly.
"Sold it?" I smiled at Heyden.
"Yes, yes, yes, sold it. Mrs. Valby's mother bought it. Mrs. Robinson put the check in the bank for me the other day." he said. He leaned over, opened a dresser drawer, and produced a deposit slip. I took it and read it and nodded.
"Five hundred dollars." I told Heyden. "That's wonderful Uncle Linden."
"It's not the first I've sold while I've been living here," he said proudly.
"How many have you sold all told?" Heyden asked. "Here and in the galleries?"
"I don't know. Quite a few, I suppose." His looked up at me quickly, his eyes narrowed, "He's not telling you that it's because of him again, is he? It's not, you know. He never did me any favors.'
"Who?"
"Thatcher Eaton. Bragging to Willow about how he got my pictures into galleries. I got my pictures into galleries, People wanted them because of the pictures, not because of what Thatcher Eaton told them."
"I'm sure that's true. Uncle Linden."
"Yes," he said. He put the deposit slip back in the drawer, closed it, and looked at Heyden. "Who are you again?"