15. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
A s Lenore carried the coffeepot into the parlor, she was disappointed to see that Laura had secured a seat right next to John. The doorbell rang, and she set the pot down on the sideboard when it became apparent that her sister had no intention of answering it.
Alistair Young stood on their porch. Although a year older than Lenore, he’d been a childhood friend. If she was honest with herself, she’d say she was disappointed in his arrival, as it would distract her from John.
There was nothing to be said against Alistair. He was a clever, articulate man, if a little soft-spoken. But Lenore felt nothing more than friendship toward him. When she looked at him, the passion meter didn’t budge at all.
It was proving to be a different story with John Hadley. She’d only just met him, and he made her feel jittery, like a stammering schoolgirl, but he also made her feel quite feminine. And that was a pleasant sensation.
“Hello, Lenore,” Alistair said quietly.
“Hello, Alistair, are you well?” Lenore asked politely.
“I am, thank you,” he said. Although Alistair looked meek, he was anything but. His nature was very principled.
“Won’t you come in? We’re about to sit down to a game of cards.”
Alistair was tall, lean, and angular, with a prominent Adam’s apple. Even his elbows looked sharp and pointy. There was something about his appearance that suggested he should be wearing glasses, as he always looked as if he’d left them somewhere. But it was well known that he had vision like a hawk. He was a teacher of English over at McKinley High School, formerly John Adams High School, but the name had been changed to honor the assassinated president.
He stepped into the parlor but hesitated when he spotted John Hadley seated at the card table with Laura.
“Come in, Alistair, don’t be shy,” Lenore’s mother cooed from her place on the sofa. Mr. Wainwright sat next to her, leafing through the newspaper. In the corner behind them, the radio was on low volume.
On several occasions, Mrs. Wainwright had suggested that the schoolteacher would make a fine husband for Lenore. To which Mr. Wainwright would always scowl and say, “No, he’s not the right man for our Lenore. ”
The four of them sat at the card table, and Lenore introduced Alistair to John. She picked up the deck of cards. “We have a foursome if we want to play pinochle.”
Laura scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Not pinochle. I hate trying to remember which card has been played. How about hearts?”
“That’s fine,” Lenore said evenly. It made no matter to her, and it saved her from having to get up and get the pinochle deck out of the sideboard.
Although Laura had secured the seat next to John, Lenore had taken the seat directly across from him, which allowed her to study his features. And what fine features they were! The tanned, broad forehead. Those eyes! They were eagle sharp and looked as if they didn’t miss anything. The aquiline nose, which gave him an almost aristocratic look. She wondered if she was being foolish with thoughts like these.
“What are your thoughts on Prohibition, John?” Alistair asked as Lenore shuffled the cards.
John appeared thoughtful before saying, “I’m sworn to uphold the law no matter my opinion.”
“Hear, hear,” Leo Wainwright said behind them, lowering the newspaper.
Mrs. Wainwright added, “Spoken like a true diplomat!”
John laughed, and as Lenore passed cards around the table, she looked up and caught him staring at her. His eyes searched her face and, blushing, she looked away .
“I have a feeling that you might win this game, John,” Laura said, leaning toward him and rewarding him with a dimpled smile. He gave her a small smile and returned his attention to the cards in his hand.
Lenore tried not to roll her eyes. “Laura, you’re first.”
Laura took her turn, then devoted her attention to John.
They played several rounds, and Lenore was tied with John for the lowest score. Alistair was hot on their heels, and Laura was a distant fourth.
“What do we think of the presidential election next year? Do we think Hoover has a chance of getting re-elected?” Alistair asked as John dealt another hand. That was one thing Lenore did like about her friend: he was intelligent and interested in talking about current affairs.
Laura pouted. “We’re not going to talk about politics, are we? Gosh, that’s no fun.”
Behind them, her father piped in. “Pay attention, Laura, you might learn something.”
With a bored voice, she said, “Oh, Daddy.”
John readjusted the cards in his hand. “It remains to be seen. If things don’t improve economically, I’d say he’d have a tough time.”
“Who would challenge him? Al Smith?” Lenore asked. The former governor of New York had run unsuccessfully against Hoover back in ’28 .
John shrugged as Alistair took his turn. “There’s rumors going around that Roosevelt might seek the nomination,” he said, referring to the current governor.
“Would the country elect a man in a wheelchair?” Mrs. Wainwright asked.
“He’s still able to think,” Lenore said. “And as long as he’s intelligent enough, why shouldn’t he run?”
“Whoever challenges Hoover will have to come up with some kind of economic plan to pull the country out of the Depression,” said Alistair.
“Correct,” John said.
“If that includes programs for helping the unemployed, what of that?” Alistair asked. Lenore knew better than anyone that her friend was all about helping people out, but he also loved playing devil’s advocate.
“Just because the administration helps people out doesn’t mean we’re turning into a socialist state,” John said. “This is the worst economic crisis our country has ever had, and people might need a hand up to get back on their feet. There’s been a lot of suffering.” He went quiet as he studied his cards.
Alistair nodded and Lenore looked at John, feeling a sudden upswell of affection for him. In addition to being good looking, he was kind, too. It was a heady combination.
“Do let’s change the subject,” Laura whined. “Did anyone see Chester Gavin’s new automobile? It’s navy blue! ”
“It must be nice to be able to afford a brand-new automobile when there are so many people going hungry,” Alistair said.
“It’s not Chester’s fault,” Laura said. “It’s not his responsibility to feed everyone.”
“Of course not,” Lenore said to placate her. Laura would begin to pout if she thought she was being challenged, and then the game would be ruined.
Laura laid down her cards on the table. “I don’t feel like playing after all. John, would you care to go for a walk with me?”
“Actually, I should get going myself. I’ve got some things to do,” he said.
“On a Sunday?” Laura asked in disbelief.
“Laura,” her mother scolded. “It’s none of your business what matters Mr. Hadley needs to attend to.”
Losing two of the players brought a premature end to the card game, and everyone stood up at once. As Lenore watched John prepare to take his leave, her mother said, “Alistair, would you care for tea or coffee?”
“No thank you, Mrs. Wainwright. I must get going myself. Papers to correct and all that.”
From the front porch, Lenore and Laura bid the two men goodbye and watched as they walked off together in earnest conversation. Lenore had been satisfied that although John had been polite to Laura, he didn’t seem enamored of her like other men .
Lenore left Laura standing on the porch and went inside to remove the coffee cups from the parlor. As she entered the kitchen, she found Hilda in her chair by the stove, darning a pair of socks.
“That Mr. John Hadley appears to be a fine specimen,” Hilda said.
“I suppose if one were looking at him under the microscope,” Lenore teased. No matter what, she would not be baited into giving her opinion on the new law enforcement official. Those thoughts she wanted to keep to herself. They were too delicious to share.
Hilda rolled her eyes. “Can you be serious? You need to be marriage minded. It’s time you started looking for a husband.”
Why did marriage have to be the end goal in a woman’s life? If it happened, it happened, and if it didn’t, that was fine, too. Because Lenore Wainwright was content with her lot in life. She was never going to set the world on fire, she’d just like to make a bit of difference in her own corner of it.