29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
1935
O ne year later, Harriet Bauer was still boarding at the house. Out for summer vacation for school, she’d only just returned from Binghamton, where she’d spent a month visiting her family. There had been other lodgers, but none with the permanence of Harriet. There was the woman who’d come to Lavender Bay to work in the hospital. But after eight months and a terrible case of homesickness, she’d returned to her parents in Elmira. There were two women who’d taken secretarial work at the Gibson’s Grape Jelly factory and were having difficulty finding rental accommodation in Lavender Bay. They stayed with Lenore for two months. Lenore hoped to fill all the rooms. She’d put an ad in the Lavender Bay Chronicle but so far there had been no response. But she was hopeful.
One day she was out back in the small yard bordered by a white picket fence. She was hanging laundry, her favorite task as it allowed her to stare at the lake. And that was a sight she never grew tired of.
Johnny toddled around the backyard, stopping to inspect everything. He hadn’t been walking long and when he did, he held up his arms to keep his balance. Currently, he was inspecting a buttercup, squatting down, his bum padded by his cloth diaper.
“Mama?”
Lenore pegged the corner of a bedsheet to the line with a wooden peg. She looked over at him and smiled, her heart ready to burst at the sight of him, such a pretty baby with his blond hair and blue eyes.
“Fower?” he asked, pointing to the buttercup.
“That’s right, Johnny. That’s a flower.”
She heard the rattling sound of an automobile out front, followed by the long honk of a horn. Johnny looked in the direction of the noise and pointed.
“Car,” she told him.
Keeping one eye on Johnny, who went to inspect a dandelion, Lenore pulled the next item of laundry out of the basket to hang it on the line.
“Mrs. Hadley!” a voice called out as a woman came around the side of the house.
Peeking between two flapping bedsheets, Lenore spotted an unfamiliar woman, about fifty. She was what one would call handsome, with sharp cheekbones, a high forehead, and crimped black hair with silver strands. She wore a smart dress and polished shoes.
Uncertain, Johnny ran toward his mother, arms up, hands fisted. Lenore picked him up and held him close.
“Mrs. Hadley, I apologize for the intrusion. My name is Ellen Whitmer. I understand you run a boarding house.”
“That’s right.”
Johnny had wrapped one arm around Lenore’s neck, and the other held tight onto a buttercup.
“I’m looking for a room for my father. He rents a cottage in town, but the landlord is moving in himself.”
That was happening more frequently with the difficult economic situation; landlords had to give up their more expensive homes and take up residence in their rental properties. It was a shame, really.
“You see, I live out of town. I’ve lived in Boston for over thirty years and well, it would make life a lot easier if Dad would come back with me, but he refuses. Lavender Bay is his home, he tells me.” Lenore did not miss the exasperation in the other woman’s voice. “Anyway, Fern Mulvihill at the post office said you were the only boarding house in town.”
“That’s correct.”
“Do you have any rooms to let?” The lines of the woman’s face deepened, and she wrung her hands .
“I have two, actually. Breakfast and supper are included.”
The woman nodded, her posture relaxing.
“Would you like to see them?”
“I would, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Follow me.” Lenore carried Johnny on her hip into the house, entering from the back porch through the library.
“You have a lovely spot here, Mrs. Hadley,” Ellen Whitmer said as she looked around.
Lenore thought so, too. “Thank you.”
Hilda must have witnessed the interaction out the kitchen window, for she was waiting with open arms to take Johnny. The little boy went easily to her, and they disappeared into the kitchen after Lenore introduced Mrs. Whitmer to Hilda.
As they walked up the staircase, Mrs. Whitmer commented on the large stained-glass window on the staircase landing.
“That is beautiful. Of course, pineapples are the symbol for hospitality.”
Lenore looked over her shoulder. “That’s right.”
As they stood at the top of the landing, Lenore said, “I have a large and a small room available, but let me show you the bathroom first. It’s just at the end of the hall here, and it’s shared by everyone. ”
That didn’t seem to be a problem. “He doesn’t need much. Just a porch to sit on, and its lovely that you have one in the front and the back.”
“Your father doesn’t mind children, does he?” Lenore said. It should be clear from the get-go that this might be a boarding house, but it was also Johnny’s home.
“No. After all, he had me, didn’t he.” She laughed nervously.
Mrs. Whitmer viewed the larger room with a fireplace and the balcony that overlooked the street. Lenore was hopeful she’d take this one because it meant extra money.
“This room is lovely, but he doesn’t need anything this grand.”
Disappointed, Lenore showed her the smaller room.
Mrs. Whitmer stepped inside and did a three-sixty, taking a good look, inspecting the bed and the dresser and finally looking out the window that overlooked the street. “He’ll be glad it looks out on the street as opposed to the beach.” With a twitter, she said, “He’s kind of nosy.”
He sounded delightful.
They went downstairs and sat at the dining room table, where Lenore handed Mrs. Whitmer a sheet of paper listing the rules and regulations of the boarding house. Lenore could barely contain her surprise when Mrs. Whitmer paid for six months’ rent in advance. It was a nice chunk of money, but she’d be mindful of it .
When all business was transacted, Lenore walked Mrs. Whitmer to the front door. They agreed that her father could move in at the end of the week. Lenore waved her off and returned to the kitchen, where Hilda was cutting an apple into small pieces for Johnny. In each hand he held a chunk, and he chewed a third piece, drool running from his mouth. The buttercup sat on the table.
“Chew good, Johnny,” Hilda said, keeping an eye on him.
“Good news, we’ve got a new boarder!” Lenore announced.
Hilda peppered her with questions. “Did she take the larger room? When is she moving in?”
“It’s not for her. It’s for her father. Apparently, the landlord is evicting him because he has to live there himself.”
“Unfortunately, there’s a lot of that going on. Sign of the times.”
“She even paid for six months in advance.”
Hilda broke into a smile. “That’s wonderful.”
Lenore agreed. “It certainly is!”
Unfortunately, the new lodger wasn’t as wonderful as they’d hoped. Lenore recognized him as soon as his daughter propelled him through the door.
“Come on, Dad,” she said sharply .
He was old Mr. Forrester from the corner of Lincoln, just a few houses down from where she and John had lived after they were married. In the beginning, Lenore used to wave to him, but he refused to wave back, usually muttering something unkind. It was rumored that he threw things at the children who cut across his lawn to get to the side street.
Lenore did not know if this was going to work out. Next to her, Hilda’s eyes had gone wide.
“I wanna go home!” Mr. Forrester shouted.
“You can’t, Dad. It’s no longer home,” Mrs. Whitmer said harshly. “Now come on.”
Lenore and Hilda exchanged a glance.
Once she got him over the threshold, her features softened as if she’d crossed some kind of Rubicon. “It’s all right, Dad, you’re going to be happy here.”
Lenore was doubtful.
Mrs. Whitmer introduced her father. “This is my father, Elmer Forrester.”
Lenore put her hand out to greet him, but he slapped it away, reminding her of a dog that appeared friendly but snapped as soon as you got too close.
“Dad!” Mrs. Whitmer said.
Lenore and Hilda stepped back.
“Mrs. Whitmer, why don’t you take your father upstairs and show him his new room,” Lenore suggested, “and I’ll get him a cup of tea. ”
The other woman brushed a few loose strands of hair back into place. She placed her hands on her father’s shoulders and gave him a gentle push toward the staircase.
Lenore didn’t even have the tea made when she heard Mrs. Whitmer coming down the stairs at a rapid clip. She popped her head into the kitchen. “He’s all settled in. Now I must go as I have a train to catch.”
And before Lenore could offer to walk her to the door, she disappeared, the sound of the front door slamming behind her punctuating her exit.
“Do you get the feeling he’s being dumped here?” Hilda asked.
“I do, but if he turns into a problem, we’ll have to get in touch with her and have her come collect him.”
Hilda stood with her hands on her hips. “She’ll never come back, and we won’t be able to get rid of him with a shoehorn.”
The tea went cold, and Mr. Forrester didn’t make an appearance until dinner.
He sat down at the table, joining Lenore, Hilda, Johnny, and Harriet. His cardigan was misbuttoned, and he had gray, wiry hair sticking out from his ears and his eyebrows.
Harriet, who hadn’t met him before, welcomed him.
He grumbled something in response. Harriet looked at Lenore, who could only shrug.
It was chicken stew with dumplings for dinner. Hilda was a magician in the kitchen with limited supplies .
“This is lovely, Hilda,” Harriet said. “Very flavorful.”
“Thank you, Harriet.”
From his seat, Mr. Forrester barked, “What did you do, woman, run the chicken through the stew?”
Hilda pressed her lips together and did not reply.
Lenore was annoyed. She couldn’t have this man running the show. “Mr. Forrester, we do not address the female population in this house as ‘woman.’ Her name is Hilda. That’s Harriet. And I’m Mrs. Hadley. I’m sorry you find your dinner unsatisfactory. Perhaps you’d rather take your dinner elsewhere.”
He muttered something unintelligible but bent his head and finished the food on his plate, surprising everyone by asking for a second helping. After dinner he pushed his chair back and stood, throwing his napkin down onto the seat of his chair and not bothering to stop it as it slid onto the floor. “Now, where’s the newspaper?”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have one. We only get the Sunday edition.”
Mr. Forrester stared up at the ceiling and emitted an exasperated sigh.
Lenore immediately tried to smooth things over. “But starting tomorrow, I will make sure there is a daily newspaper.”
“Can I sit on the porch, or is that only done on Sundays?” Mr. Forrester said .
“Of course you can sit on the porch,” Lenore said easily. “I’ll bring a chair out front for you. Or would you rather sit out back with the nice view of the lake?”
“Now why would I want to look at the lake?”
“Very well, let me get you a chair.” Lenore carried a straight-backed chair out onto the front porch.
When she returned, Hilda muttered, “He’s a real charmer.”
This was met with a giggle from Harriet.
His daughter had paid well in advance, and no matter how unpleasant he was, Lenore thought, he was a lodger, and it was her job as the landlady to make him as comfortable as possible. After all, this was his home.