“You’ll be sleeping in the tree house all summer with the boys, making sure they don’t get into trouble.”
“An indoor bathroom?” Clotilde smiled broadly, dreamy-eyed. “With a real toilet? No more using the outhouse?”
“A toilet, a claw-foot tub, and a sink, I think.” Mama didn’t seem disturbed by the stormy look Papa gave her. “It’s about time. Everyone in Murietta has an indoor bathroom.”
“God, have mercy on me,” Papa said under his breath and raised the newspaper again.
“Niclas?”
“Yes, Marta?”
“Yea or nay?”
“You’re the money manager.”
“And a telephone, right there on the wall.”
“A telephone!” Clotilde beamed.
“For emergencies only,” Mama added, staring at her.
Papa shook his paper and turned a page. “Sounds like bedlam to me.”
June arrived in a haze of dust, blowing in Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, Billie, and Fritz. Fritz had grown six inches in the past year, and he took relish in standing over Hildemara, who had grown barely two. Clotilde, however, could stare him in the eye. Fritz knew enough to bring only one small case with him. The other boys arrived with luggage unloaded from the back of family cars. “Rich boys,” Clotilde whispered to Hildemara.
Hildemara sighed. Just watching the boyish excitement hinted at the work ahead. “This isn’t going to be as easy as Mama thinks.”
Mama invited the parents into the living room while Papa, Bernie, and Fritz took the new boys on a tour of the property. Hildie served tea, coffee, and angel food cake, while Mama explained the chores, projects, and recreational activities planned for the boys’ “summer camp.”
One mother looked dubious. “It seems like you expect them to do a lot of work.”
“Yes, we do. And if you agree, I have a contract for you to sign. The boys won’t be able to quibble if they know you back me up. Farming is very hard work. Your boys will learn to respect the people who provide food for the marketplace. And by the end of summer, they’ll all want to be doctors and lawyers.”
Smiling, the parents signed, kissed their sons good-bye for the summer, said they’d be back the end of August, and left.
No one cried.
Not on the first day.
Mama had the boys move their things into the tree house. “Stack your clothes under the bench and put those suitcases in the shed for storage.” She let them play all afternoon. Hildemara listened to them whoop and holler, and she wondered how soon that noise would turn to petulant protests and whining. When Mama rang the dinner bell, they washed and ran for the house, taking their assigned seats at the table. Mama served a feast of beef Wellington and steamed garden vegetables soaked in butter. She announced dessert would be chocolate cake.
“Wow!” Ralph whispered to Fritz. “You said she’s a good cook. You were right!”
While everyone ate, Mama laid out the rules and explained the daily schedule of chores and activities. “They’re posted on the back door in case you forget.” Hildemara knew they would. None of the new boys bothered to listen closely. Fritz looked at Bernie and grinned with malicious delight.
The next morning, Mama awakened Hildemara before dawn. Resigned, Hildie got up without protest, put on her clothes, and went out to feed the chickens and collect enough eggs to feed their small army. Papa ate early and left “before the pandemonium starts.” Mama rang the triangle at six.
The boys stirred, but no one rose. Mama went down the steps and leaned six shovels against the base of the tree and called up to the boys. “Come on down. You have chores to do.” Only Bernie and Fritz did.
Mama rang the breakfast bell at eight. Bernie and Fritz came running. The new boys quickly came down the rope ladder and ran for the house. When they reached the back door, they found it latched. Jimmy tugged, then tugged again. “Hey, I think it’s locked.” They ran around to the front of the house and found that door locked. They stood on the porch, peering through the window at Bernie and Fritz eating a sumptuous breakfast of scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and blueberry muffins.
“Hey!” Ralph called through the glass. “What about our breakfast?”
Mama poured hot chocolate into Fritz’s mug. “Read the sign over the back door, boys.” Their feet pounded down the steps. Hildemara watched their heads bob up and down as they ran around the side of the house. She knew what they’d find. Those who don’t work, don’t eat.
Rebellion came swiftly.
“My folks paid for me to have fun! Not work!”
“I’ll write to my parents and tell them she’s making us work!”
“You can’t do this.”
Though Hildemara cringed at their begging, Mama paid no attention. “They’ll learn.”
Replete and smirking, Bernie and Fritz went out the back door. Hildemara went to her room to rest for the next shift of work Mama would assign. The boys argued outside the screen windows. “You guys still whining?” Bernie rubbed his stomach. “You sure missed a good breakfast!”
“We didn’t come here to work!”
“Then don’t. Starve. It’s your choice.”
“I’m going to call my mother.” Gordon’s voice wobbled. Tears would come soon.
“Go ahead and call her, but you’ll have to walk to town to use a telephone. The one on the wall inside is for emergencies only.”
“What sort of a place is this?” Ralph yelled in anger. “We’re not slave labor.”
Bernie laughed. “Your parents signed you over to Mama. She owns you for the whole summer. Better get used to it, boys.”
“Hey!” Jimmy shoved Fritz. “You told us we’d have fun!”
“I said I had fun.” Fritz shoved back harder. “What a baby! It’s only a couple hours a day, and the rest of the time we do what we want.”
Bernie couldn’t resist. “As long as we don’t burn down any houses or barns.”
Hildemara sat up and looked out through the screen. “Bernie!”
“Okay! Okay!”
“You didn’t say anything about chores, Fritz! I don’t have any at home. Why do I have to do them here?”
Hildemara flopped down on her high bunk and shut her eyes, wishing they would stop squabbling. Cloe pumped away on the sewing machine on the other side of the wall in the living room. Somehow, Rikki had such an ability to concentrate, she didn’t hear the chaos outside as she lay on her bed, going through a library book on Rembrandt.
Merciless, Bernie went on mocking the city boys as he headed out toward the orchard to help Papa dig irrigation ditches. “You’d better come if you want lunch.”
“I’m not a ditchdigger!” Ralph yelled after him.
“You will be!” Fritz called back.
“Hildemara!” Mama called. “There’s a basket of laundry. Take it out to the washhouse and get it started.” Pushing herself up, Hildemara grabbed it, propped it on her hip, and opened the screen door. Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, and Billie wandered like lost souls looking for something to do.
Bernie and Fritz came in from the orchard just before Mama rang the lunch bell. They stepped into the back of the house and latched the screen door before the others could open it. “Read the sign, boys!” Bernie and Fritz laughed and went into the house while the others milled around outside, their defiance wilting in the Central Valley summer heat.
After lunch, Bernie and Fritz took off running for the big irrigation ditch at the back of the property. “Come on, boys!” The others didn’t run as fast, but forgot their hunger long enough to enjoy themselves. Hildemara could hear them shrieking and laughing and shouting while she weeded the vegetable garden. She knew how her summer would go, and it would not be filled with play. When Mama rang the dinner bell, the boys all came running. Bernie and Fritz dove under Mama’s arm and she closed the door, latching it again while Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, and Billie gaped in misery.