Saturday

They approached the gate that Saturday afternoon, five of them, four girls and a boy. A middle-aged woman, clad in last year's spring coat, stood outside the iron gate with a single suitcase. The five of them shivered as the fall air, crisp and swirling, bit the backs of their necks and hands. They rolled up the windows of the Ford and rode through the gate.

Red, gold, brown, and orange leaves rained from the trees and were caught in the windshield wipers. . One found itself with the aerial straight through its middle. The rolling lawn, a patch-work of green-fresh grass, gold-sprinkled, and dead-brown squares, was lined with the huge brick mansion and its mis-matched wings. Many people sat, walked, ran, or lay prone on the lawn.

A woman flagged them down. She was young, yet she had crows' feet around her eyes, and her skirt, well above her knees, was a dowdy grey flannel. The knees, though, were young and firm, but the stockingless legs on this crisp autumn day caused goose bumps all over them. They asked her name. It was Gloria. Kathy rolled the window down a little further.

"Ladies, ladies, you have pretty hair, ladies," she said, and smiled. Her teeth were covered with layers of nicotine. "You think maybe you could lend me a dime for coffee; huh, ladies? Just a dime for coffee, you think maybe? Huh?"

Kathy grabbed her wallet out of her purse and opened it. She looked toward the back seat for encouragement.

"Oh, look at all the money you have. You must be rich, huh, lady?"

Gloria kept smiling, and Joan put out her freshly lit cigarette.

"Maybe, ladies, maybe you can lend me a quarter for tomorrow, and a dollar for next week; huh, ladies? You think maybe you can?"

"Ask her about the woman," Larry prodded. "The one at the gate."

Kathy leaned out the window but changed her mind. "No," she decided, "she doesn't look like she knows much."

Gloria spit. "Hey, the dime! What about the dime? Give me a ride, huh?"

Kathy floored the accelerator. They sped up the road; the faces that rushed past were a blur. They didn't see them. They didn't see the young girl with the blank stare smile as they approached. Her smile faded as they passed, and she continued up the path to the big iron door. They didn't see the squirrel and his girl raced for an acorn inches away and squat together sharing it.

Soon, however, they realized that they were lost in this maze. Kathy slammed on the brake, nearly hitting an old man crossing the road. They needed directions and he looked harmless. Kathy turned to Alice, indicating that it was her turn to speak up. Alice leaned out.

"Excuse me, sir...sir? That's right - you! Can you tell us how we can get to the front gate?"

"The front gate, sweetie? I'd take you there myself, but I have to go see a friend, and I've never been late. Never. My wife always like me for that. When I was courting her I was always the perfect gentleman, never late..."

He was bent over slightly, leaning on his shiny new cane and peering into the car. He hadn't been limping, but he hung on to the cane as if it were a third foot.

"Mister," Alice interrupted, "we just want to know where the front gate is."

Marie winced.

"Oh, oh yes, that's right. You're so right young lady; please forgive me. The front gate where Mrs. Harris stands."

Alice opened her mouth, and Marie slammed it shut with a jab in the ribs. The old man continued.

"Turn around...on the grass; it's okay; nobody I know takes care of it. Go down the road," he said, "until you come to an oak tree with a knot in the lower left branch. It's on your right, turn. Go past the front door of the main house and keep straight on that road, and it's plain as the hair on my head."

"Yeah," smirked Larry.

"Never mind. Thank you," said Alice.

They drove away and turned around a little bit up the road.

"Look!" Alice fairly shouted. "Will you look at that!!"

The old man, still leaning on his cane, still bent, was peering straight ahead and pointing down the road to an oak tree with a knot in its lower left branch - pointing where no oak tree stood.

They drove past him, not looking. Alice laughed mockingly, very loud, all by herself.

Larry gave a long, low, wolf whistle. A woman walking far in front of them was the object of this endearment. All that was visible so far was a rather long, straight, baggy skirt, a black jersey of some kind, blond hair reaching the shoulders, a black beret, and a shoulder bag. She walked along in worn-down flats.

"Hey, Kath, ask that one," he said with a laugh. "They really have all types in this place."

Kathy pulled up next to the woman and Larry leaned out the window.

"Hey, Frenchie!" he called to her.

She turned around. Bright red lips caught their collective eye. The smile erupting from the face left a mass of deep furrows in the skin. She flapped a false eye-lash at them.

"How'd you know?" she piped.

"How'd I know what?" asked Larry.

"My name, Frenchie. Like it?"

"Lovely," mocked Joan. "Listen, French, how do we find the front gate?" There was an edge to her voice. "We gotta get a move on."

Frenchie waited a minute before answering, snapping her gum and humming to herself as if they weren't there.

"What do you want to leave for? It's nice here. Really it is. Anyway, go straight down the road, come to a fork, and turn left. That'll take you to it." She winked at them. "It's not bad here. Really nice. I've been here pretty long. I should know. Right?"

"How long you been here?" asked Joan.

"Long. Not half as long as some people though. You'll pass Mrs. Harris on your way to the gate. It's getting pretty late, as you were saying. It's about time for her to be coming back up to the house. She's been here over ten years, well over ten years. Anyway, as long as I've been here, going on seven, she's been walking all the way out to the gate. Every Saturday morning she's been doing this, and around five o'clock, she walks all the way back up with all her things."

"Every Saturday?" Marie couldn't believe it! "What for? What would she want to do that for all the time? Almost seven years..."

"Yeah, well, that's what makes show business, you know," snapped Frenchie. "That stuff must be awfully heavy to carry all that way. She doesn't have much, not as much as me, but still in all. She's waiting for somebody. Her son, I think. Every Saturday. So, anyway, who'd you drop off, or are you just visiting? You got a boy with you." She winked at Kathy.

Kathy laughed and winked back. "Just joy-riding," she said.

"I had a visitor last Saturday," Frenchie smiled; "an old beau."

"We gotta get going, Kath," Larry said. "Sorry, French, see ya! Adios, au revoir, buenos noches!"

Kathy drove off again, slowly. The silence in the car filled it like a vacuum. Alice pulled out a cigarette and lit it nervously.

The lawns were clearing. Cars were filling and starting. Alice put out the cigarette; it was getting hard to breathe, so she rolled down a window.

They turned left at the fork and stopped. Mrs. Harris was struggling up the road with the suitcase. Kathy looked in the rear-view mirror inquiringly.

"What are you waiting for!?" Larry broke the silence.

Kathy jumped; Alice laughed; and they drove past Mrs. Harris. Kathy braked and turned around on the grass. She caught up with Mrs. Harris and stopped. Mrs. Harris looked up, and Kathy rolled down the window.

"Want a ride?" she asked.

"Petey's car is blue; yours is green. Petey said he was coming for me today," she whined.

Larry jumped out of the car and grabbed the suitcase. "Come on! We'll drive you up to the house," he muttered, and ushered Mrs. Harris into the front seat. They drove up to the big iron door and Larry helped Mrs. Harris out of the front seat. He took the suitcase and her arm and led her up the path.

"Thanks, Petey." She smiled.