27. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
1934
L enore set out for the post office on Main Street as she had a few letters to post and an advertisement to tack up on the notice board. She’d decided to sell her sewing machine. She hated to part with it, but she needed the money.
She’d left the baby at home with Hilda. At almost six months, his first tooth was poking through the bottom front gum, and he’d been fussy since yesterday. He’d also been drooling a lot because of it. Hilda had told her to take her time, to take a stroll and get some fresh air.
She walked down Pearl, turned onto Main Street, and headed southeast toward the post office at the far end of the block. It was a long walk, but Lenore didn’t mind. It was nice to get out and about on such a beautiful, sunny summer day. The trees that lined the boulevard were in full foliage, providing shade for relief. Everything appeared shiny and bright, something she’d forgotten, another thing that had been buried beneath a weight of grief.
The post office appeared grander on the outside than the inside. Outside, it was made of blue stone, with an arched entranceway and above that, a simple decorative balcony. Inside, there was woodwork everywhere, from the doors to the fa?ade to the service counters. The scuffed cream-colored walls were in need of a fresh coat of paint. More than once, Lenore had wondered how marks ended up at the top of the walls near the ceiling. The other walls were covered in life-sized murals depicting the history of the town.
Currently there were only two positions occupied by long-time employees of the post office. The postmistress was a Fern Mulvihill, spinster, who’d been there since before Lenore was born, and Abner Williams, who’d lost a leg in the Great War. It was her father that had secured him the position at the post office so he’d have a way to provide for his family.
There was a large corkboard on the back wall where the town’s residents posted their notices. As the line was long for the counter, Lenore figured she might as well post her advertisement.
Ahead of her was a woman her own age who stood at the small wooden desk propped up against the wall, stubby pencil in hand, staring at the blank index card in front of her. After a moment, the woman bent her head, scribbled something on the card, and posted it to the corkboard with a thumbtack.
She turned around and almost bumped into Lenore. The other woman smiled, nodded, and stepped around her.
Lenore opened her pocketbook and pulled out her own index card. The previous night, she’d sat at the kitchen table, writing neatly on the card. This was the third one. She’d made mistakes on the first two and had ripped them into pieces and thrown them in the trash can.
Before she tacked it up, she scanned the other advertisements.
“Sugar,” she muttered. Someone else had posted their sewing machine for sale. There couldn’t be that many people in Lavender Bay who needed a sewing machine. There was no sense in putting hers up. She’d wait until the other one went down. She slipped the card back into her pocketbook. Her eyes landed on the index card that the young woman had put up.
Seeking room and board. Teacher. References provided. Reasonable rate. Please reply to Post Office Box 36.
A thought occurred to Lenore, and she turned on her heel and exited the building, forgetting all about the letters she had to mail.
She stood outside in the hot afternoon sun, looking up and down the street. Further along Main Street, she spotted her: the young woman who’d left the card up on the corkboard looking for room and board. She broke into a trot, trying to catch up with her.
It took three blocks before she was able to call out, “Miss!” and several shouts before the woman finally turned around. Lenore waved the card and slowed down as she caught up with the woman. She held her side as a stitch had started and she needed to catch her breath.
“Was it me you were calling out to?” the woman asked. Still breathless, Lenore nodded.
The woman smiled. Her face was narrow, and her nose was long. Her brown hair was pulled sharply back into a bun too severe for her face. It aged her. But she had a lovely smile, and her hazel eyes were bright and inquisitive.
Lenore held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Lenore Hadley.”
The other woman shook Lenore’s hand. Her grip was firm and warm. “Harriet Bauer, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I hope you don’t think me rude, but I couldn’t help but notice your card on the corkboard,” Lenore said.
“Of course not,” Harriet said amiably. “You were right behind me in line.”
A short laugh escaped Lenore. “Yes, I was, wasn’t I.” She felt tongue-tied but forged on and blurted, “I may have a room for you if you’re interested. ”
Harriet’s smile faltered a bit, and she took half a step back.
Lenore rushed to reassure her. “I can assure you that this is on the up and up.”
“Do you run a boarding house?”
“Honestly, no, but I’m thinking of starting one,” Lenore said. Granted, it was a half lie. Inspiration hadn’t hit her until she saw Harriet’s notice posted on the corkboard. But she’d been thinking about it as she chased Harriet down the street.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Harriet said.
“Anyway, I have a room to let if you’re interested.”
“When would it be available?”
“Immediately.” There were five bedrooms upstairs, and only two were currently occupied.
“May I see it first?” Harriet said.
“Of course.”
“When would be a good time?”
Lenore thought for a moment. She didn’t want to appear too eager and lose the possibility of some income. “Tomorrow afternoon, would that suit?”
Harriet nodded. “Two in the afternoon?”
Johnny would be napping, and Lenore said hastily, “Four would be better.”
Harriet smiled. “Four it is then. Oh, wait, what’s the address?”
“Nineteen Pearl Street. ”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Hadley.”
“Good day, Miss Bauer.”
Lenore turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward home. As she went, she thought taking in boarders would be a good way to earn extra money. She’d see how it went with Harriet before she advertised for any more lodgers. She had all those bedrooms upstairs, plus, if she ever cleared out the attic and put in a proper window to replace the current one, which had a hole in it, there’d be that room as well. She did the sums in her head. She’d never get rich, but it would keep her head above water.
The closer she got to home, the more her mood lifted. Yes, a lodger would be a good idea. And she’d start with Harriet Bauer. She quickened her pace, anxious to get home and get the upstairs bedrooms ready.
Hilda stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hands on her hips, and frowned. “A lodger? You’re going to invite a complete stranger into the house? To live here?” Behind her, the ironing board was set up, with Lenore’s other dress laid out on it.
“Yes.” Lenore laid her handbag down on the kitchen chair. She pulled an apron off the hook on the back of the kitchen door, pulled it down over her head, and reached behind her to tie the strings at her back .
“Do you really need to do this?” Hilda pressed. She returned her attention to the ironing, sprinkling a little bit of water from a glass bottle onto the garment.
“I do. I need the extra money,” Lenore replied.
“I know things are tight, but it’s that way for everyone,” Hilda said. Lenore needed no reminders that they were still in the middle of an economic crisis. It was people like her who fell through the cracks, and she was determined that wouldn’t happen to them.
Hilda was still speaking. “I can pay for the groceries.”
Lenore tilted her head. “You’re already buying extras.”
Hilda went to protest but Lenore cut her off. “Hilda, I know you’re buying extra food with your own money. How do I know this? Because I know the cost of groceries, and we always seem to have more than enough food.”
“It’s important to eat,” Hilda said, shrugging.
“Yes, it is. But it’s not your job to pay for the groceries. That’s my job.”
There was a grim set to the older woman’s mouth as if she realized this was an argument she wasn’t going to win. “See how it goes. Make sure you get references. And a deposit in case she damages the furniture or does a runner.”
Lenore thought about Harriet and her initial impression. “She doesn’t strike me as that type.”
“Promise me you’ll do all those things if only to put my mind at ease.”
Lenore held up her hand like a Boy Scout about to take the oath. “I promise.”
She tucked Hilda’s concern to the back of her mind, but she was determined to do this. Because she had no choice.