28. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
H arriet Bauer arrived promptly at four in the afternoon the following day. Lenore spied her through the window wearing a green, yellow, and white checked dress of a lightweight material. The fabric looked breathable, which was needed in this heat.
The baby was up, and Lenore cradled him against her. He’d slept better the previous night and had a good afternoon nap now that the bottom tooth had finally broken through. She shifted Johnny to her other arm so she could open the door.
“Harriet, come in please,” she said.
Harriet stepped in and nodded toward the baby, smiling. “Beautiful baby, is he yours?”
Lenore found that question funny, as if she’d found this baby on the street or something, but she suppressed the urge to laugh .
“Yes, this is my son, Johnny.”
“I love babies,” Harriet said. “And children in general. I teach third grade over at Ben Franklin Elementary.”
“A teacher! How wonderful.”
Harriet followed Lenore into the parlor, where Hilda went from one houseplant to another, watering can in hand. She eyed Harriet.
“Hello, there,” Harriet said to Hilda.
“Hello.”
Lenore went to introduce Hilda but hesitated. She didn’t want to say she was the help. She was, but to her, Hilda was more than that.
“This is my friend Hilda Wolf, who lives here,” Lenore said.
Hilda scowled. “I’m the help.”
“Come on, you’re more than that,” Lenore said.
Harriet piped in. “She’s either a helpful friend or friendly help.” Both women looked at her and smiled.
Holding the watering can at her side, Hilda said, “I’ll bring some tea in.”
“Thank you, Hilda.”
“Did you want me to take Johnny?”
Lenore shook her head. “No, he’ll be fine.”
Holding her free arm out, she directed Harriet to the front parlor, with its view of the street. There was still the lingering scent of Murphy Oil Soap, as she and Hilda had tackled the woodwork downstairs over the last two days. She’d always loved its fresh scent.
“It’s a nice place you have here,” Harriet said, scanning the room and taking everything in. She sat in one of the two chairs across from the sofa, and Lenore realized that if she was serious about getting lodgers in, she’d have to get more furniture.
Lenore took one of the chairs and settled Johnny on her lap. He clung to his cloth rabbit, chewing on its ear.
“It’s a spacious home,” Harriet pronounced.
Lenore looked around almost as if seeing it for the first time. She supposed it really was too much house for three people, and that dream from not so long ago about filling it with children made her heart ache.
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“May I ask if there’s a Mr. Hadley?” Harriet said, leaning forward slightly on her chair as if they were going to exchange some sort of confidence.
Lenore was blunt. “No, I’m a widow.”
Harriet leaned back, her expression sober. “My condolences.”
Lenore gave a slight nod and then changed the subject, not wanting to get caught in a downward spiral.
“You are looking for room and board?”
“I am. As I’ve said, I teach at Ben Franklin Elementary school. I’ve come with no notice as I’m replacing a teacher who’s out with scarlet fever. ”
“I’ve heard that,” Lenore said. It was known around town that the previous third grade teacher had ended up with some complications from scarlet fever. It was unfortunate. “And where are you living now?”
“Willow Street.”
Lenore knew where Willow Street was, but she didn’t know anyone who lived over there.
“And why do you need accommodation?” Lenore asked.
“I’m staying with my mother’s second cousin.” Harriet pursed her lips and lowered her voice. “It’s not working out.” She lowered her head.
“Where are you from?” Lenore asked, changing the subject deftly to avoid further embarrassment.
“Originally, I’m from Binghamton,” she said.
“You’ve come a long way for a teaching job,” Lenore said. Johnny clutched his fist, looked at Lenore and laughed. His new tooth made an appearance, and she kissed her baby on the forehead.
“The principal is a friend of my mother’s second cousin, and she needed to fill the vacancy immediately.”
“Of course.”
Hilda entered with a tray bearing two teacups, the tea already poured.
“I’m sorry, I have no cake or pie,” Lenore said, handing a cup of tea to Harriet.
“I don’t eat between meals,” Harriet said, accepting it .
“Would you like milk or sugar?”
“No, thank you. I drink it black.”
“Very well.” Most people had learned to drink their tea and coffee black.
Hilda retreated to the kitchen.
“Do you have other lodgers at present?” Harriet enquired, sipping her tea delicately before setting it down on the lace doily on the coffee table that was situated between them.
“No, but I’m hoping to bring in a few more,” she said.
Harriet perked up and said, “I’d be your first lodger then?”
“Yes.” Lenore realized she should have considered what kind of questions to ask potential lodgers. “And you have references?”
“Of course,” Harriet pulled several envelopes out of her pocketbook and handed them to Lenore, who pulled the letters out and scanned them briefly, noting such words as “respectable,” “fastidious,” and “clean.”
Harriet sat with her back straight and hands folded in her lap. She waited for Lenore to finish reading her letters of reference.
“I can take you upstairs and show you the rooms that I have available,” Lenore said. “And as you’re the first one, you could pick.”
“That would be nice. ”
Hilda appeared from the kitchen and held out her hands for the baby, a broad smile on her face. “I’ll mind Johnny, Lenore. You go upstairs with Harriet.”
“How old is the baby?” Harriet asked as she followed Lenore up the staircase.
“Six months,” she answered, hardly believing that her baby was that old already. She doubted she’d have any more children, and she wished the time would slow down a bit. And of course, she felt with each passing day, she was getting farther and farther away from John.
Upstairs, she showed Harriet the three available bedrooms. When she’d told Hilda her plan to take in boarders, Hilda had promptly moved from the bedroom she was occupying to the smallest bedroom, despite Lenore’s protests.
She started with the largest room, which had its own balcony and looked out over Pearl Street.
The room was spacious, with a double bed and a small sofa situated in front of an unused fireplace. The faded floral wallpaper looked nice and welcoming in the daylight.
“Oh, this room is lovely,” Harriet said. “I suppose it would be your most expensive room due to its size and the fact that there’s a fireplace.”
Although Lenore had not thought about charging more for the bigger bedrooms, she didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Yes, it is.” And before Harriet could inquire about the price, she moved on to the other two rooms. Both contained a single bed with a dresser, chair, desk, and small table. In each room there was a washstand in the corner with a ceramic pitcher and basin.
“Both these rooms are lovely,” Harriet said. “May I inquire as to the price?”
Lenore told her the price, explaining that breakfast and dinner were included, along with lunch on the weekends.
With an approving nod, Harriet said, “That’s reasonable.”
Lenore hoped she hadn’t underpriced herself.
“I’d like to take one of the smaller rooms,” Harriet decided.
“Your pick,” Lenore said.
Harriet chose the smallest room after Hilda’s. It had a nice view of the lake and in the evening, the sun coming in from the west brightened the room.
They went downstairs and made arrangements, and Harriet asked if it would be all right if she moved in the following day. Lenore agreed.
After Harriet had left, Lenore found Hilda out on the back porch with the baby in her lap. She was pointing at the seagulls.
“Hilda, we have our first lodger!”
“That Harriet is a good egg. I can tell,” Hilda said, pointing at another bird for Johnny.
Initially, it was odd having a stranger living in the house, but they soon settled into a routine. Harriet came home from school in the late afternoon, preferring to stay behind at the schoolhouse to correct papers and plan her lessons for the following day. She said she liked the peace and quiet of the classroom at the end of the day. Lenore wondered if she found Johnny too noisy to concentrate. In the evenings, she joined them for supper and passed the time with them in the front parlor, listening to the radio or chatting or sometimes playing cards. It wasn’t long before it felt like Harriet had always lived there.
Not everyone was pleased with Lenore’s decision to take in lodgers. Her parents were aghast.
With her hand splayed against her throat, her mother asked, “Is it that bad that you’ve had to take in strangers under your roof?”
Lenore was not about to divulge her financial situation to anyone, not even her parents. She suspected that Hilda knew the truth, but she preferred to keep her business private.
“Why didn’t you come to us? We would have helped you,” her father said. But she couldn’t ask him. He hadn’t won re-election in the last mayoral race. The mayor’s daughter being involved with a man who went to the electric chair cast a pall on their family, and it was reflected in the vote. And though her father had been scrupulous about his money, she could hardly ask him for assistance. The whole affair had taken its toll: Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright had aged significantly in a short period of time. She supposed they all had.
“It’s not your job to support me,” she pointed out. And it wasn’t, no matter how much they wanted to. She was a grown woman with a child and a house, and it was up to her to provide for them. She was sorry she hadn’t gone to college now, but she preferred to stay home with Johnny, and how would that have worked out? And this had been her and John’s dream house, and she didn’t care what she had to do; she wasn’t letting it go. She’d do whatever it took to keep it. His last home was here and therefore, it would always be hers as long as she was alive. The memory of him was the strongest here for her.
Her mother went to say something, but Lenore spoke before she could get her thought out.
“How’s Laura?” she asked. Although she hadn’t seen her sister, she always inquired about her. The chasm between them was deep, and Lenore hadn’t any idea how to bridge that gap, or whether she even wanted to.
Her father nodded and said, “All right.”
“She’d like to meet the baby,” her mother said.
“Oh,” Lenore said. She supposed her sister should meet Johnny. After all, why should an innocent baby be deprived of the affections of his aunt?
But she wasn’t ready for any kind of teary reunion with Laura. And that’s what it would be: tears and drama. She didn’t think she could stomach that.