33. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
1936
L enore, Hilda, and Harriet sat in the parlor one evening. With the end of summer, the nights had gone cooler. Mr. Forrester sat on the porch as he continued to do despite the longer evenings and the cooler weather. He would go out in his coat and scarf and not come in until evening tea was served at seven.
Lenore sat in her chair, crocheting a blanket for Johnny. He was out of the crib now, and sleeping in a small bed next to Lenore’s. He’d need something for the winter. She’d taken several of John’s old sweaters and unraveled all the yarn for the blanket. She supposed as Johnny got older, she’d repurpose the yarn again for a scarf or hat or mittens. Across from her, Hilda sat in the rocker near the fire. It was the first fire lit that fall. Lenore knew that Hilda’s arthritis was flaring up with the chilly air .
And seated on the sofa was Harriet, reading an Agatha Christie novel she’d taken out from the library. Lenore kept her eye on Harriet. She was chattier and bubblier than usual that evening, and Lenore wondered what was up. Her lodger had bought a new dress, the first one since she’d arrived at the house. It had a modest neckline and a calf-length skirt with a flared hem. Its muted gold color suited Harriet’s complexion. Lenore was glad the other woman had splurged on herself.
Lenore looked over at Harriet, who held her book up but had a broad smile on her face. She caught Hilda’s eye and directed her attention to her lodger with an almost imperceptible nod. Briefly, she returned her attention to her crocheting, working on her stitches, looking up from time to time and always finding Harriet practically beaming.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and she set the crochet down in her lap.
“Harriet, what is going on? You’re all smiles this evening. I never thought Agatha Christie’s novels were that funny.”
Harriet lowered the book in front of her. “They’re not.”
Hilda chimed in. “You’re all atwitter tonight, Harriet.”
The woman appeared to be bursting. “I suppose I could tell you.”
Lenore and Hilda leaned slightly forward.
“Alvin Cole, the haberdasher, asked me to go out tomorrow night. ”
Lenore clapped her hands, genuinely pleased. “Harriet, I’m delighted to hear that.”
“I know his father,” Hilda said. “They’re good people.”
This encouragement broadened Harriet’s smile.
Although Harriet was not pretty in the conventional sense, Lenore thought there was something absolutely lovely about her. It was a shame some men couldn’t see that, that they chose to focus solely on looks. In the years Harriet had lived there, Lenore could not recall another time that Harriet had been asked out. This bothered her and Hilda, and they’d discussed it at length many times during the day when Harriet was at school. But there’d been times when Harriet had entertained a crush on the opposite sex. Whether it was another teacher or someone from one of the clubs she belonged to, Harriet had a routine she adhered to that Lenore and Hilda were now familiar with. She talked non-stop about this person, how he said this or did that, and wasn’t he just the best? This went on for a while and then suddenly, one day, they were never mentioned again, leaving Lenore and Hilda curious as to what had happened. Had Harriet dipped her toe in the water? Had she been rebuffed? Had the object of her affection made it plain that he was not interested? It was heartbreaking to witness. The constant disappointment. Because if there was one thing Lenore was sure of, it was that Harriet would make a good wife and mother. She had a gentle, caring way about her. Johnny loved her .
“That’s wonderful news,” Hilda said. She’d stopped rocking and put down the garment she was mending.
Harriet beamed, nodding her head.
“When is this happening?” Lenore asked, dying of curiosity.
“Tomorrow night at seven. He’ll come over as soon as he closes up the shop.” Harriet’s voice was full of excitement.
“We must meet him,” Hilda announced.
“What will you wear?” Lenore asked.
“I was going to wear this dress,” Harriet said, indicating the new dress she currently wore.
Lenore and Hilda both spoke at once.
“That’s perfect!” said Hilda.
“The color suits you,” Lenore added.
Harriet talked excitedly about the date, and Lenore and Hilda soon got caught up in it, Lenore offering to lend her her tortoiseshell combs for her hair, and Hilda promising she’d iron her dress in the morning.
The opening of the front door and the appearance of Mr. Forrester shut down their happy conversation.
“What’s the holdup with the tea, Hilda?” he barked.
“It’s coming.”
He settled into her rocker when she vacated it, inching it closer to the fire. I’ll have to get another rocker , Lenore thought. Although he was a lodger and his needs came first, Hilda worked hard here at the house and didn’t ask for much. Her comfort was just as important to Lenore as her boarders’.
At the end of the night, they all went upstairs, happy for Harriet and crossing their fingers, hoping this one might work out. Except for Mr. Forrester; he was oblivious to the developments and complained about the number of steps on the staircase.
The following evening, Harriet paced back and forth in the parlor, waiting for Alvin Cole to make an appearance.
The weather was cold and outside, the house was being pelted with rain and wind. As a result, Mr. Forrester had remained inside. He was dozing in the corner of the sofa, the newspaper crumpled up next to him.
It was a shame about the weather; it was a horrible night to go out on a date.
Johnny played on the parlor floor with some wooden blocks that had been a gift from Laura and Edwin.
“Harriet, you’ll wear the floor out with all that pacing,” Hilda said with a laugh.
Harriet stopped mid-stride. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be nervous, Harriet. Alvin said he’d be here at seven and he will be.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ve never been on a date before,” Harriet admitted .
Lenore and Hilda exchanged a glance.
Harriet bit her lip and headed over to the front door, looking out, hoping for a glimpse of her suitor, then resumed her pacing.
But when the burr walnut mantel clock with its mother-of-pearl face showed fifteen minutes past seven, even Lenore began to wonder. Harriet had stopped pacing and slumped onto the sofa, shoulders sagging, and propped her elbow up on the arm and laid her cheek along her fist.
“He must have got delayed,” Hilda said. But a scowl appeared across her features, and she looked at Lenore.
Harriet brightened, sat up straight and said, “Maybe I should go up to the haberdashery and see if he’s all right.”
Lenore did not miss the alarmed expression on Hilda’s face.
“No, no need to do that, Harriet,” Lenore said gently.
Johnny had taken his hand and knocked his blocks down, startling them. When he saw their reactions, he launched into a fit of laughter. Mr. Forrester let out a long, choked snore and they all stared at him for a moment, making sure he was still breathing.
“Why not?” Harriet asked. “He could be hurt or something.”
It was Hilda who spoke up. “It wouldn’t look right.”
“What do you mean?” Harriet asked, her eyebrows knitting together. As intelligent as she was, she could be na?ve to the ways of the world. And although she and Lenore were roughly the same age, sometimes, Lenore felt years older than the other woman.
With gentleness, she said, “Because you don’t want it to appear that you’re chasing him.”
“Oh,” Harriet said, as realization dawned on her.
“Besides, it’s terrible out there.”
“Give him some time,” Hilda told her.
“I’m sure there’s a valid reason,” Lenore added. But as the clock headed toward eight, she began to doubt.
When it struck eight, she decided it was time to put Johnny to bed. She stood and instructed him to pick up his toys. He wailed, protested, and threw a block against the wall, startling Mr. Forrester from his nap.
“You rascal!” Mr. Forrester griped.
Lenore scolded Johnny, and in the end, he picked everything up, but with great theatrics.
Harriet also stood, shoulders drooping. “I might as well go up, too. There’s no sense in waiting any longer.”
“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Lenore said, but realized it sounded lame, even to her.
“Yeah, right,” Harriet said, heading toward the staircase.
“Good night, Harriet,” Hilda said quietly, shaking her head.
Lenore and Hilda were just as disappointed as Harriet. Sometimes, people can be so cruel, Lenore thought as she carried Johnny upstairs.