19. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
W hen they returned from their honeymoon, John went back to work, and Lenore settled happily into her role as a housewife. It felt as if she’d been training for this her whole life. She loved everything domestic life entailed: cooking, baking, mending, sewing, knitting, and crocheting.
They weren’t home long from Niagara Falls when she took the car over to her parents’ home to collect her wedding presents. Although space was limited in her current home, she still wanted her things about her as she started her married life.
It was a beautiful sunny day, and the trees that lined the white picket fence out front were full of bright green leaves. It was odd to be arriving at her childhood home as a visitor. She brought the Model T to a halt next to the curb, the car shuddering as it stopped. John had taught her to drive during their courtship and now that they were married, he walked to work on days when the weather was nice and left her the car, although she often liked to walk as well. The car was large, noisy, and cumbersome. But because she had a couple of crates and trunks to bring back to her house, she had no choice but to take the car.
She went around back, to the kitchen door. The front door was primarily used for guests or company, and old habits died hard.
The trees in the orchard were full of leaves and pretty soon, there’d be plenty of fruit for pies and canning. The small vegetable garden near the back of the house had recently been turned over, ready for seeds. The back porch was empty.
Through the screen door, she spotted Hilda making pastry, likely for a pot pie for lunch.
I should be doing that , Lenore thought, opening the door and stepping into the kitchen. The room smelled of brewed coffee with a hint of woodsmoke, familiar scents to Lenore that would always remind her of home. Her old apron still hung on a hook behind the door.
Hilda’s apron was covered in flour, and there was a smudge of flour on her cheek. Her eyes widened in pleasure when she caught sight of Lenore.
“Lenore! You’re a sight for sore eyes. How’s married life?” Hilda asked, setting the ball of pastry down and wiping her hands on her apron .
Lenore hugged her friend. “I’m happy.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
With a nod toward the pastry, she asked, “Do you want me to finish that for you?”
Hilda scowled. “Not on your life.”
“I wish you could have come with me.” More than anything, Lenore missed Hilda’s company. But on John’s salary, they could not afford any help at present. Besides, there’d be nothing for Hilda to do. Lenore often finished her household tasks by late morning and felt idle for the rest of the day.
Hilda returned to the pastry and Lenore pulled a high stool next to the worktable and sat on it, crossing her leg and helping herself to a carrot. Next to the pile of carrots was a platter of leftover chicken.
“What’s new here?” she asked, crunching on the end of her carrot.
Hilda looked heavenward and shook her head. “Your sister is going to be the death of your poor mother and father.”
Lenore frowned. “Why? What has she done now?”
“It isn’t what she’s done, it’s who she’s doing it with.” Hilda sighed.
“What do you mean? I thought she’d finally set her sights on Hollis Seaton.” Lenore liked Hollis. He’d been Laura’s guest at her wedding. He was her sister’s age, a college graduate with a promising future. Both of her parents had approved of him heartily. He was polite and charming, and Lenore had thought they were a good match. Besides, he seemed to know how to handle Laura.
“He’s gone.” Hilda laid the pastry into the bottom of a deep pie dish, folding it over the sides.
“What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“She has a new beau,” Hilda said. Lenore did not miss the disapproval in her voice.
“And?”
“She thinks the sun rises and sets on him.”
“But you and Mother and Dad don’t?”
Hilda shook her head. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” If he was as undesirable as Hilda seemed to be suggesting, Lenore’s parents, or at least her father, would mention something to her.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He reminds me too much of my first husband.” From time to time down through the years, Hilda had spoken of her two husbands. The first one, according to her, had been a downright charmer. He charmed my socks, and other things, right off , she had said. Within a year, she was left with a baby boy and a disappearing husband. She’d later heard that he’d been killed, and she had shed no tears, for it had left her free to marry her next-door neighbor, a man twenty-five years older than she, a good man who was a positive influence on her son. She’d said those ten years she spent married to him were the happiest years of her life .
“And Laura can’t see this?”
“Not through those rose-colored glasses of hers. She can’t see what the rest of us see,” Hilda said. “She only sees his film-star looks.”
Laura was gullible. She’d been cosseted and shielded her whole life. They had done her no favors.
Lenore sighed. “Well, if we’re lucky, she’ll soon lose interest and move on to the next suitor.” It was what she’d done in the past. Her attention span was short, and her head was always turned by the newest, shiniest object.
“I hope you’re right.” There was doubt in Hilda’s voice as she stirred carrots, peas, and chicken in a bowl and poured the mixture into the pan. She moved over to the stove, where she began to make the sauce for the pot pie using a little bit of cream, some flour, and some leftover chicken stock from a canning jar. She mixed it all up with a wooden spoon, set the flame on low, and added salt and pepper.
“Where’s Mother?”
“In the dining room, I suspect,” Hilda replied. “Your father is due for lunch at his usual time.”
“All right.”
“You’re here for your things,” Hilda said, tilting a bit to look at Lenore over her shoulder.
“I am.”
Hilda smiled. “Will you be staying for lunch? ”
“I will if it’s not too much trouble,” Lenore said. She didn’t want to create extra work for Hilda.
“There’s more than plenty. When your mother said you were stopping by to pick up your things, I made extra.”
Grinning, Lenore said, “You’ve twisted my arm.”
Mrs. Wainwright was in the dining room, laying the table for luncheon. Gone were the fine linen and china and crystal and silverware and back were the everyday tablecloth, cutlery, plates, and glasses. One of the windows was open a few inches, and there was the sound of birds just outside. There was no sign of Laura, and Lenore wondered if she was upstairs or out.
When she entered the dining room, she noticed the frown on her mother’s face as she laid the table for five. When she called out her greeting, the frown disappeared to be replaced by a generous smile. “Lenore, there you are.”
Lenore hugged her mother, and her mother kissed her on the cheek.
“I set a place for you. You can join us for lunch, can’t you?”
“I’d love to,” Lenore said.
“Good, we’ll need you to run interference,” her mother said, her expression souring. She finished laying the plates at each chair.
“Mother, what do you mean by that?” Lenore set the glass pitcher of water in the middle of the table .
“Laura has invited her beau for lunch,” her mother explained, looking grim.
“And?”
Mrs. Wainwright’s shoulders stiffened. “To put it quite frankly, your father and I do not approve of him.”
“Whyever not?” She couldn’t imagine her parents being so upset over someone. And although Hilda had forewarned her, she wanted to hear it from her mother herself.
“I’ll say nothing. You tell me what you think when you meet him,” Mrs. Wainwright said evasively. “I don’t want to color your perception.”
“All right.”
“She had that lovely beau Hollis Seaton. He was a good and kind man with a wonderful future, and he treated Laura like a queen.”
“Let me guess, she became bored with him,” Lenore said, suddenly feeling tired of the continuing drama with her younger sister. For the first time, she was grateful she no longer lived in this house. As sad as that made her feel. Suddenly she regretted saying she’d stay for lunch, wishing for the peace that was to be found in the happy home that belonged to her and John.
“Lunch won’t be ready for another hour,” her mother informed her.
“No problem. I’ll start loading up the boxes and trunks into the car. ”
She spent the next hour lugging boxes and trunks down the stairs with the help of Laura, who griped the entire time about why she had to do the heavy lifting. By the time lunch was ready, they had some of the crates loaded, leaving the rest on the front porch. There was only so much room in the car, and she’d have to make several trips.
After washing her hands, Lenore stepped back into the dining room. Her father arrived shortly after and couldn’t hide his delight in seeing her.
“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise! How’s the newlywed?”
“I’m well, Dad,” she replied, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
“That John Hadley is a fine man,” he said.
“He is that indeed, Dad.”
“And you’re staying for lunch?” he asked.
“I am. Mother and Hilda twisted my arm.”
“Good for them. Now I won’t have to.”
As they took their places around the dining room table, Laura entered, pulling her newest suitor behind her, who’d just arrived. Immediately, Lenore was mesmerized, and instantly understood Laura’s attraction to him.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a mop of glorious, thick, wavy black hair with a beautiful shine, and a pair of intense blue eyes. There was a cleft in his chin, and his teeth were straight. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was some film star from Hollywood who’d ended up by mistake in Lavender Bay.
He said his hellos to Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright, who were polite but remained aloof, causing Lenore to do a double-take. There was nothing her parents liked better than entertaining. All were welcome.
Laura introduced her suitor to Lenore, clinging to him as she did so as if he might get away. She looked up at him, her face full of adoration.
“Lenore, this is Horace Howard. Horace, this is my older sister, Mrs. Lenore Hadley,” she said.
Horace took Lenore’s hand and raised it to his lips to plant a kiss on it, his eyes glued to hers, which she found unnerving.
He took his seat between Laura and her mother, just like John had done when he arrived that first day. When they were all seated, Mrs. Wainwright looked pointedly at Lenore before returning her attention to her place setting.
Hilda appeared with the wonderful-smelling chicken pot pie, a towel in her hands to protect them from the heat of the dish. She stepped into the room and set the pie within reach of Mrs. Wainwright, giving a side-eye to Laura’s beau.
“Thank you, Hilda,” Mrs. Wainwright said.
“It smells delicious, Hilda,” Mr. Wainwright remarked from the other end of the table .
Hilda left and returned with a platter of leftover chicken and a serving fork, and set them in the middle of the table.
“You’re not from around here, are you, Mr. Howard?” Lenore asked. She would certainly have remembered someone like him walking around Lavender Bay.
“No, ma’am. I’m from a little town in Pennsylvania, outside of Erie. Called McHill.” Lenore did not recognize it. “And please, call me Horace. When I hear ‘Mr. Howard,’ I’m always expecting to find my father right behind me.” He sat straighter, his shoulders back and his chin up.
While he spoke, Laura went about filling his plate with slices of leftover chicken, while Horace sat there with his hands folded in front of him, his fingers steepled. Her mother glanced quickly at that and then continued to scoop portions of pot pie onto everyone’s plates. Mr. Wainwright sighed and took the plate that was handed to him, steam rising off the flaky crust.
It was a little strange to see Laura make a fuss over one of her suitors. She’d never done that before. At the Wainwright table, everyone helped themselves, although occasionally, when the mayor came home from work and was especially stressed or tired, his wife would fuss over him and take his plate and fill it with the right amount of the things he liked.
What happened next was even stranger. Once Horace’s plate was filled, Laura began to cut up his meat into bite-sized pieces, humming as she did this. Lenore raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
When Laura was finished, she set the plate down in front of Horace. He rewarded her with a smile as brilliant as a flash cube, leaned close to her, and said, “Thanks, doll.”
Laura beamed.
Lenore could practically see her mother grinding her teeth. This wouldn’t do at all. Could Laura not see how strange it was?
“What is it you do for a living, Horace?” Lenore ventured, trying to quell the image of her sister cutting a grown man’s meat for him.
“Now that’s an interesting question, Mrs. Hadley. I live , that’s what I do,” he said proudly. The early afternoon sun slanted in the front windows, illuminating Horace’s face, giving him an almost celestial appearance.
She was sure her parents must be delighted with that answer. “We all live, Horace.” Lenore took a forkful of pot pie and slid it into her mouth, moving it around as it was hot.
“Ah, but some people hardly live at all,” he countered. He was talking in circles, which Lenore found annoying, but Laura seemed to hang on his every word and hardly even looked at her own plate of food.
“What is it you do to earn money?” Lenore ventured. Normally, her mother would be appalled at this topic of conversation, but there were no looks from her. Lenore suspected her parents might have been trying to get to the bottom of that as well, without success.
“I go wherever the wind takes me; work tends to find me.”
“Are you working right now?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, not liking her questions. “Not at the moment, but I’ve got irons in the fire from Buffalo to Toronto,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
“That sounds promising,” she said. “Will you be leaving Lavender Bay soon?” She practically had her fingers crossed in her lap.
“That had been the plan”—Laura’s smile disappeared immediately but Horace patted her arm—“but plans change all the time. And this little lady would like me to stay, I think.”
“I would, I would,” Laura squealed, her blond hair bouncing around her face. “Don’t leave, Horace. We’ve been having a lot of fun.”
Lenore looked from one to the other, wondering what constituted fun in their books, blanching at the thought that they might be having too much of it.
Lunch proceeded in this fashion, Horace holding court to the point where Lenore wondered if he just liked to hear the sound of his own voice. And with Laura hanging on every word. Her parents were unnaturally quiet, as if they were simply trying to get through the meal. If Horace Howard copped on that Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright weren’t big fans of his, he didn’t let on, or he didn’t care. But the silences between the topics of conversation were growing lengthier and tense, and Lenore was almost sorry she’d stopped by to pick up her wedding gifts.
It got weirder with dessert. Laura took forkfuls of apple pie from the plate and fed them to Horace.
Lenore scowled. “Are you unable to feed yourself, Horace?”
He snorted. “Of course I’m able to feed myself, but I like it better when Laura feeds me, don’t I, honey?”
“Uh-huh,” Laura said with a smile.
“Did your mother feed your father?” Lenore asked, wondering what his home life had been like.
His expression darkened. “If she’d taken better care of my father, he might not have run off when I was ten.”
There was no more conversation after that, and Laura and Horace said their goodbyes after they finished their tea. Horace was effusive in his praise of the meal, thanking both Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright before they left.
Lenore watched them through the front window with an equal sense of curiosity and concern. Laura hung on Horace’s arm as he escorted her to a newer Ford Model A in dark blue. Laughter bubbled up from her sister and floated through the open window. Laura was practically giddy with happiness. She kept looking up at Horace as if she couldn’t believe her luck .
“If he doesn’t work, I can’t understand how he affords the brand-new car and taking her out every day,” Lenore said, thinking out loud.
“We have wondered that more than once,” Mr. Wainwright said. “While most men are away from home during the day, working, I might add, Horace is here every day, squiring Laura all over town. We all know the economy is in the dustbin, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man in the same outfit twice. And it’s a good question: how does he afford the brand-new car?”
Mrs. Wainwright sat at the foot of the table in her chair with the embroidered pillow behind her back, shaking her head with dismay.
Lenore didn’t know what to say to make her mother and father feel better. She was at a loss for words.
She attempted to cheer them up. “You know how she is. Soon, she’ll lose interest and someone more interesting or more fun will show up, and Horace will be yesterday’s news.”
“That’s what we keep hoping, but every day, he shows up, honking that horn to let everyone on the street know of his arrival.” Lenore’s father wore a pinched, unhappy expression.
She felt guilty for being away, for being in love, and not being here to help her parents out. She must make Laura see sense .
“We shouldn’t have burdened you with this, Lenore. You’re newly married, with a husband and a home, and you shouldn’t be worrying about this.” Mrs. Wainwright sipped from her teacup.
“Nonsense. I’m glad you told me,” Lenore said. “I’m going to try to talk some sense into Laura, but I need to think it over first.”
“Of course,” her mother said.
“But will she listen?” her father asked, his voice rising slightly. “She’s always been high-strung. I don’t want to see her get into any kind of trouble over this man.” His complexion had gone ashen. They all knew what he referred to. A young woman having a baby out of wedlock was a one-way ticket to ruin and destitution. It irritated Lenore to no end that any time there was such a scandal, it was the woman who had to pay the price and the man got off scot-free. The right to vote had been granted to women twelve years earlier, but there were still strides to be made.
She stood, anxious to get home and think about this dilemma with her sister and how to fix it. After several trips to her new home, she loaded the remainder of the boxes with the help of her mother.
Before she left, she hugged her mother goodbye and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, Mother, it’ll be all right.”
“I hope so. Give John our best. And will you come over for Sunday dinner?”
“We’d love to,” Lenore said. Though she’d probably stop over again to visit before that.
As she drove home, she bit her lip, trying to think of what she’d say to her sister. She had to tread very carefully. If she went about it the wrong way and said something to make Laura feel insulted or offended or, worse, cornered, then it could blow up in their faces. The last thing they needed was for Laura to do something impulsive.