Time's running out

"Time's running out, Agnes. You have to make up your mind soon. They won't wait any longer," said Dr. Dixon, the impatience in his voice clear to Agnes. She wondered, also, if he were irritated. She'd pondered the job offer to move to Washington for two weeks now. Later that afternoon, after getting home from work, she sat with Brian and Victoria in the parlor, pretending to enjoy their cocktail hour while all the while her mind raced at a hundred miles an hour.

"Grace is progressing nicely on the piano, Agnes," trumpeted Brian, her best friend and her childhood piano teacher. She's mastered the John Thompson Volume 2 I gave her and is moving on to Volume 3. I also think she's ready for some early Mozart sonatas. And the Beethoven G minor sonata. Now the interesting thing about living here, I always know how much she's practicing. And she's just not practicing enough. Would you prod her a bit?"

Agnes looked at him as if he spoke a foreign language, perhaps German or Arabic. But his words made no sense to her. She had only to consider losing her way of life in this Philadelphia house. Did she really want to break up her household and move the children to Washington? And yet, it was a fabulous job opportunity for her. Very few people were sought so urgently as Agnes had been by the War Department. They wanted to move her and the children to Washington.

"If Grace wants to practice the piano," countered mother-in-law Victoria, "she will. There's no need to push her unnecessarily. She's had a lot on her mind since her father died last Fall. I'd suggest leaving her alone. If she doesn't want to practice, she shouldn't have to practice."

But, Agnes considered, if I don't accept the job and move to Washington, it'll all be over once the war's over and all the men come home and reclaim their jobs. I'll be let go quicker than Joe Louis would take down an amateur boxer. And then I'll have no home at all, whether in Washington or Philadelphia.

"But Agnes, it's important to keep Grace focused on school and her studies," rebutted Brian. "The best way for her to get over her father's death is by hard work and discipline. And the piano offers an abundance of both!"

And what about the two of you, thought Agnes. If I leave Philadelphia and take my children to Washington, where will you go, Brian Larney? You gave up your home to come live with us last Fall after Norman died. And what about you, Victoria? Will you live with Neil and Leanna? You've declared loud enough for the world to hear, you did not want to live with Leanna Balmoral, that she'd drive you insane in less than a week. Well, I take this job, the two of you will have to find your own living situations.

"It's enough hard work and discipline for her to be in school," interjected Victoria. "I think it's quite sufficient that she's taken piano lessons for the last two years. If she doesn't want to do it, I'd suggest stopping them at once. After all, it's a waste of money."

Agnes heard neither of them as they all sat in the parlor with their late-afternoon tea scones. Let them bicker and complain all they want. She hadn't really been listening to them and, she felt, she'd look really stupid if she tried to answer them with the voice of authority. But authority was one trait that Agnes sorely lacke. Like a heavily weighted pendulum, her mind shifted from one direction to the other in a moment's notice.