Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 6

TUESDAY

NOVEMBER 1934

On Tuesday nights, when everyone had gone, Tuesday Knight skated alone to music from a phonograph.

It was her special night with the Starlight—when she attempted a new figure-skating move or skated as fast as she could without fear of running over a little munchkin and getting ejected by the floor guard. Yes, they ejected her too if she broke the rules.

It was also when she communed with the soul of the rink—if she was allowed to believe such things—and regained any peace of mind robbed by day-to-day troubles.

She’d been a girl when the artist from Italy stood on scaffolding and painted children from every walk of life—all skating toward that pivotal image of a giant man wearing a hat and long duster, his golden brown hair curling into his collar. His eyes, such a vibrant color, seemed alive. She’d looked at him every day since she moved into the rink at fifteen, and without fail, something flipped inside her each time.

“Immanuel,” the prince called him.

The panels were a novelty in 1887, able to roll up and allow the sea breeze to cool off warm skaters. The floor was made from the finest teak, the kind used to build Prince Blue’s yacht. Some parts of the floor were from the shipwreck that brought the humble royal to the southern American state.

The Starlight had been his life’s work. Then it became hers.

Tonight, like every Tuesday night, she’d sent LJ and Dupree home with strict instructions—wash up, brush their teeth, and go to bed.

Of course they goofed around, went home the long way, first walking down the beach, then cutting up through the seagrass to look for treasure. She knew from neighbors that they snuck between houses, tossing pebbles at the bedroom windows of friends

Then they would head over to the Nickles’ place on 321 Sea Blue Way, being as their son Abel was LJ’s best friend, creep into Harriet’s kitchen—Morris never believed in locked doors—and snatch a handful of her molasses cookies.

Finally heading home, they’d peek through the dark windows of the closed shops until they arrived at the Knight house, end of the street and one block south. They’d raid the icebox and eat the last of the pie or cake from the Good Pickens Bakery. They’d wrestle on the floor while listening to the radio, then before the end of the program, Tuesday imagined LJ would say something like, “Off to bed,” to which Dupree would respond, “You’re not the boss of me.”

Eventually they’d push and shove up the stairs to see who washed first. They’d leave wet towels and water on the black-and-white linoleum for her to step in later.

You’re missing it, Leroy. The best part of their lives.

On this particular night, she skated until her heart was full, then cleaned the skates’ wooden wheels and stored them in the original box. She tidied the office, locked the money bag in the safe, and shut off the lights.

The back door rattled with a fervent knock.

“Hello, anyone there? Mrs. Knight?” A man’s voice pressed through the side door.

“Yes? Who is it?” She settled her hand on the derringer tucked inside her pocketbook.

“Um, ma’am, we’re weary travelers. Sorry to bother you so late, but we saw the lights. ... Folks at the Blue Plate said you could help us.”

Tuesday worked the lock and leaned out. In the glow of the Starlight’s sign, a young family hovered in the chill—husband, wife, and three little ones.

“Please, come in.” She reached for one of the large, battered suitcases and carried it with her across the rink floor and through the blue door under the organ loft. Down a short, narrow hall, she entered a rather large room with storage cabinets, a double bed, and a bath. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough. After all, this had been her home for four years until Leroy married her.

“Sorry for a bit of clutter.” Tuesday set down the suitcase and moved aside a large box of concession supplies. One day, she planned to sell off the food portion of the business.

“It looks like a palace to me.” The wife’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“The bed is comfy,” Tuesday said, retrieving extra blankets and pillows. “You can make pallets for the children. Fill the tub with hot water, I don’t mind.” She smiled at the little ones. “There are plenty of towels on the bathroom shelves.”

Tears streamed down the woman’s dirty cheeks. She looked to be no more than twenty-three or four. “What can I do to repay you?” She spoke so earnestly. “I do washing and ironing. Ain’t a woman alive who wouldn’t give over her ironing. Maybe some mending?”

“She’s good with needle and thread.” The husband was gangly, with long limbs and an awkward stance, but Tuesday reckoned she’d never seen such kind eyes. There was a sadness too. Folks probably took advantage of him. Eyes do reflect the soul. “I can do any sort of mechanical work. I noticed the worn floorboards as we passed your lobby.... Get me some lumber and I can have those fixed right up for you.”

“He can, Mrs. Knight. He can fix just about anything.”

“Please call me Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” The man sounded amused. “Y-your name is Tuesday Knight?”

“It’s my married name, but I guess the good Lord thought I needed a sense of humor and a bit of humility.” Tuesday pressed her hand on his arm. “How about a hot bowl of my famous bean soup, some bread and butter, and hot chocolate?”

The wife laughed. “Sounds like a feast for a king.”

The husband cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am. Much obliged. We’re Norvel and Elise Brandley. This here’s our boy Mikey, our daughter Sissy, and baby Elias.”

Outside the room, Tuesday fell against the wall and pressed her hand over her nose and mouth, muffling a soft sob. But for the grace of God—

“Tooz?” She glanced through her tears to see Leroy coming her way. “What’s the matter?”

“Goodness, Leroy. You startled me.” She wanted to run into his arms, but his long absence frosted her affection. “So you finally decided to stop in, say hello?” She avoided him as she started across the rink toward concession, to the small kitchen with a two-burner hot plate, refrigerator, and popcorn machine.

“Don’t bust my chops, babe. I’ve been working.”

“A phone call wouldn’t go amiss, Lee.” She’d installed a phone at the rink last year. “Or a letter. You do know how to write a letter, don’t you?” She’d stopped counting the months since she’d heard from or seen him. Was it May or June? Every year, he wandered farther and farther away from home.

“You get my bank drafts, don’t you?”

“Money. It’s always about money with you.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t understand this complaint. I’m doing my job, supporting my family.”

She swung around in the middle of the rink. “You’re never home, Lee. That’s my complaint. I’m raising our boys alone. They’re fifteen and thirteen—the age they need their daddy to teach them to be men.” She gestured to the Man’s image looking down on them from the other side of the rink. “Though I thank Immanuel you’re not around to teach them to be like you.” She started toward the kitchen again but paused with another thought. “Is there someone else? Hmm? Tell me. Do you have a woman on the side? Maybe other children?”

“Ah, for pity’s sake, Tooz, you think I’m crazy?” He reached for her hand, but she tucked it behind her back. “I value my life too much. I know you’d knock me into eternity if I ever stepped out on you.”

“So you’re not messing around? A young, virile man like you isn’t finding comfort in some other woman’s bed? Because you sure aren’t finding it in mine.”

“Your bed is the only bed I want to lie in, Tooz. But I’m here now and you’re fighting me.”

“I’m having my say. Besides, you’re only here cause your hoodlums, your so-called ‘boys,’ need a meal and a bed, or some doctoring.” She jammed her finger into his chest. “You can’t just roll in and out of here whenever you want, Lee. We’re not your puppets or pets, we’re your family. I’m your wife. I have a say in how things go in this relationship.”

“You don’t think I know that, Tuesday? I’m scared of you half the time. My crew won’t even come in here.”

“Best thing you’ve ever said to me.” She stormed toward the concession in the corner of the rink and plugged in the hot plate. While the soup heated up, she scooped butter from the tub into a small bowl for the corn bread.

“Fill that pot with milk, will you?” She pointed to the copper pan hanging from a hook under the cabinet. “For hot chocolate.”

“Can you make some for the boys—er, fellas I got with me?”

“Fine, but they sleep outside. I don’t want them bothering that sweet family.”

“It’s cold, Tooz. The wind off the water is bone chilling. How about they sleep in our barn?”

“There’s no hay.” It’d been two years since they kept cows for milk and meat. Without Leroy, the chores became too much for her and the boys.

“Can you spare a couple of blankets and pillows?”

“You’re vexing me, Lee.” Tuesday sighed as she stirred the soup. “I’ll look when I get home.”

She still knew very little of her husband’s business. She’d suspected rum-running and bootlegging, but with the end of prohibition, she guessed he’d moved on to gambling and money laundering, maybe thugging for some mob boss. She peeked at his knuckles. They were scarred and bruised.

Leroy confessed nothing other than he “worked for a good firm” out of Memphis. But she read the papers, heard the rumors.

Leroy set the pot full of milk on the second burner. “Why were you crying back there?”

“Who said I was crying?” Tuesday reached for the Our Mother’s Cocoa can and the sugar canister.

“You had your face buried in your hands.” Leroy wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. “I heard you. Talk to me.”

“Just some old memories coming up is all.” She pulled away to retrieve paper cups from the upper cabinet. Fisherman Joe, who came in once a quarter and roller-skated until he had blisters on his feet, introduced her to this new invention—paper cups and plates—and she’d never looked back.

“From your mamaw?” Lee said. “What a wicked woman. Baby, those days are behind you. You’re with Leroy Knight now. You own the Starlight.” He tried to hold her again, but she busied herself with setting up the food tray. “You’ll never be homeless again.”

“I was only homeless for a week before the prince put me up.” Though it felt like an eternity. “And the Starlight is good company. However—” She looked him in the eye. “I married you for better or worse, Lee, and I mean to keep my word, but it seems the better is long gone and the road ahead is nothing but worse.”

Leroy sighed and whispered something about checking on the fellas. By the time he returned, Tuesday was ladling the bowls and cups with soup and steaming cocoa. From the cookie tin, she selected five of Harriet’s best and added them to the tray. “Let me get this to my guests. You tend to your people.”

“They’re good men, Tuesday. Just trying to make it in these hard times.”

She glanced back at him. “Might as well take them some cookies too.”

She caved whenever he came around. She’d spend months brewing up a fight, but without fail, love eventually calmed her storm.

In the back room, the kids splashed in the tub. The wife had washed her face and the husband had shaved. He took the tray as Tuesday entered.

“We’ll clean up, I promise,” he said.

“I know you will. You can stay the week. That’s all I allow. Tomorrow, I can arrange one long-distance call for you if that will help.”

“That would be—” The couple exchanged a glance. Then Norvel said, “I’ll find a way to repay you.”

“When you’re on your feet again, help someone who’s like y’all are now. That’s all I ask.”

“Everyone was right, you know,” the wife said. “When we came into town asking for work or any sort of help, everyone—down to the man or woman—said, ‘Go see Tuesday at the Starlight.’” Her eyes glistened. “‘She’ll help you. She’s the nicest woman around.’”

“I’ve been in your shoes. I know what it feels like to be desperate and have a kind soul offer more than you could imagine.”

Lee was gone when she came out, so she unplugged the hot plate, tidied the concession, and locked up her office, then the rink.

In the cool night, she walked home, the neon light of the Starlight behind her. In the distance, a foghorn called to passing vessels. At the end of Sea Blue Way, she turned south on to Third Street, where a single light drifted from her barn, along with a low hum of male voices.

In the kitchen, Tuesday hung her sweater and pocketbook on her hook by the door. Up the stairs, she peeked into the bathroom. The floor was dry, the sink clean, and the towels neatly hung. She found Lee stretched out on their bed in his undershirt, reading the paper.

“You picked up the bathroom.” She slipped from her low-heel oxfords and worked the buttons of her dress, noticing the thin material under the sleeves before hanging it in the closet.

Out of her slip and stockings, she tugged on a cotton nightgown that was once a brilliant blue, knowing Leroy only pretended to read the paper. He was watching her.

“What do you want, Leroy?”

“You.” He patted the bed beside him.

“What am I to think? You return home only when you can’t take it any longer? You think I don’t have needs when you’re away, Lee?” She grabbed the pouch storing her toothbrush and private toothpaste, a little pleasure she allowed for herself.

In the bathroom, she regarded her reflection. At thirty-four, she wasn’t bad-looking, with a nice natural wave to her brunette hair. Her green eyes were nice—set too close for her taste—but the flecks of gold made her feel special. She was no great beauty like Greta Garbo or Claudette Colbert, but she’d earned a whistle or two in her time.

She liked being an ordinary girl. Felt it was enough to get her a loving husband and family. Which was all she’d ever wanted, and Lee had given it to her.

Oddly, he’d also taken it away.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Lee had cut out his lamp and rolled over to face the wall. When Tuesday shut off her light and slipped under the covers, he didn’t stir. The hush in the room, along with Lee’s weight next to her, made her heart thump and her breath weak.

“I love you, Tooz.” The bed bounced as he moved onto his back. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“Then we’ve nothing else to say.” Yet the warmth of his skin stirred all her desires, and despite their differences, she wanted his love. “You leave me no choice.”

A beat of silence ended when he asked, “Is the Starlight deed in the house?”

She sat up and clicked on her light. “You touch the Starlight and it’s over, Lee. I mean it. All you’ve been saying about love and finding a way to better our lives will be for nothing.”

“Simmer down, Tooz. It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

“It’s just Mr. Trudeau over at the bank asked if we’d filed the deed. He couldn’t find it in the county records.”

“When did you see Mr. Trudeau? Why was he looking? Why ask you instead of me?”

“Guess he saw me first.” Lee grinned. “You look so pretty in the lamplight.”

“I filed the deed, Lee. I pay my taxes.” Her lie felt justified given his query. In her mind, the county had no business with her ownership of the Starlight. If she filed the deed, they might challenge her maiden name, or the prince’s signature. Even the date. They might ask questions about Hoboth—who’d not been heard from in two years.

Would the county consider her deed a fraud? Did Hoboth have a different deed on record? Did he hand Leroy a forgery? Would he reappear one day, the wanderlust from his bones, and demand the return of the Starlight? These questions plagued her on the nights she couldn’t sleep.

More than anything, if she filed with the county, Tuesday feared they’d raise her taxes and require Leroy’s name on it too. Which would grant him access to the rink for collateral in his business shenanigans.

Well, not while she breathed the sea air. No, the Starlight deed stayed with her, in a box she’d hidden under a kitchen floorboard.

“Okay, don’t get so riled. I was just asking. But, Tooz, you should put that fancy deed in the county records. It will protect you if anyone tries to come after it.”

“Like who? You?” Tuesday shut off the lamp, and in the dark, she fluffed her pillow and straightened the covers, speaking to her husband without words, fighting the draw of his masculine presence.

“I won’t touch the Starlight, Tooz.”

“Thank you.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

It felt so strange to lie beside him in bed, three inches and a world apart. “Can I kiss you good night?” he whispered.

“Yes, please, Lee, kiss me. Kiss me now.”