35. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
1937
B y spring of the following year, Lenore had gained a third boarder. Over the winter, she’d had some people stay short term, but never for more than a couple of weeks, citing the room was too large for their needs. And too expensive. Lenore was hopeful for a permanent boarder and the steady income that would bring in.
Alma May Mandelson was a small woman on the later side of fifty with salt-and-pepper hair. She’d come from Allegany County to replace the town’s librarian, who had retired. She claimed her current living situation was no longer tenable and said no more, and Lenore could only imagine what that meant. Mrs. Mandelson—a longtime widow with no children—liked the idea of having her own sitting area in the large bedroom that faced the street. She balked at paying more but Lenore held firm and, in the end, Alma relented and agreed to Lenore’s terms.
But for someone who claimed to value her privacy and paid extra for the more spacious accommodation, she seemed to spend many evenings in the parlor with the rest of them.
Harriet sat at one end of the sofa and had just finished telling a story about one of her students that had them all laughing, except for Alma.
Alma pursed her lips. “Children should be seen and not heard.”
“Even in school?” Lenore teased.
“I agree with you, Mrs. Mandelson,” Mr. Forrester said gruffly. He looked pointedly at Johnny, who was banging a toy hammer against the leg of his mother’s chair.
Alma ignored Lenore’s quip but nodded at Mr. Forrester. Turning her attention to Harriet, she said, “It sounds like you don’t have control of your classroom.”
Harriet looked startled, as if that thought had never occurred to her. “I w-w-wouldn’t say that.”
“I would,” Alma said with a harrumph.
“This new generation is too wishy-washy. They’ve no backbone.” This from Mr. Forrester.
Harriet shrank back into the corner of the sofa.
Lenore gritted her teeth. Those were unkind things to say. She’d heard from one of Laura’s neighbors, whose daughter was in Harriet’s class, that the kids adored her. Johnny dropped the hammer and climbed into her lap, squirming and whining, trying to get comfortable. Lenore brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“Isn’t it his bedtime?” Alma said, her frown deepening as she looked at the child.
Lenore wasn’t going to take any interference from her lodger. She was beginning to suspect what had happened with the woman’s previous living arrangement. It wasn’t difficult to put it all together.
“Johnny has a set bedtime,” she said.
“But I’m a paying lodger, and I’d like a break from children in the evenings,” Alma said.
“Yes, you are a paying lodger with a private sitting room with no children in it,” Lenore pointed out.
Alma pursed her lips and stood up, her back erect, and said, “Good night.”
In unison, they said, “Good night, Alma.”
She marched up the stairs, chin held high.
Within five minutes, Mr. Forrester stood, going up to his room as well.
As soon as they were both out of earshot, Lenore sighed. Harriet’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a giggle.
“There’s always someone who will find something to complain about.” Hilda shook her head, her knitting needles flying in her hands.
Lenore didn’t know if she was referring to Mr. Forrester or Mrs. Mandelson or both. She continued to cradle Johnny until he fell asleep. He was getting older and more often than not, he’d want to climb down and take off. She was trying to hold off those days a bit longer.
Carefully, she stood, not wanting to wake him. “I’ll put him to bed.”
Harriet said, “I should go up as well.”
“Don’t go up yet, Harriet. Stay here and talk,” Hilda said.
“All right then.” Harriet scooted over on the sofa to be nearer to Hilda.
As Lenore carried Johnny up the stairs, she smiled to herself. She knew that Hilda was fond of the young woman. At least someone was getting along with someone in the house.
When Mr. Forrester didn’t show up for breakfast the following morning, Lenore was concerned. Harriet and Alma weren’t down yet either, but that wasn’t unusual for a Saturday. They didn’t get up as early in the morning on the weekends.
“It’s unlike him,” Lenore fretted. “He never misses a meal.” Breakfast was served between seven and eight, and he was always the first one down.
“I know,” Hilda said with a sigh, “but the peace and quiet are heavenly. ”
Lenore laughed. “I’ll run up and check on him.”
She took the stairs two at a time. The hallway and bathroom were clear, and all was quiet upstairs. She knocked on the door to his room. “Mr. Forrester?”
One of the other doors opened and Harriet appeared. Lenore smiled a good-morning to her as the young woman walked past, toward the bathroom. Harriet yawned, smiled, and closed the bathroom door behind her.
Lenore knocked a bit more loudly this time, trying not to disturb Alma, who was not up yet. When there was no answer, she rapped harder. Nothing. Gently, she tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Concerned over the welfare of her boarder, she felt she had no choice but to pull the ring of keys from her apron pocket and unlock the door.
The first thing she noticed was that the room was stuffy, and then she scrunched up her nose. There was a smell of unwashed human wafting through the air. She knew Mr. Forrester played it fast and loose with personal hygiene, but she was going to have to have a talk with him.
“Mr. Forrester?” she called out. When there was no answer, she stepped further into the room and stopped abruptly in her tracks. The grumpy old man was on his back in his bed with the covers pulled up over his chest. His mouth hung open, and he stared straight at the ceiling, eyes wide and glassy. His skin appeared pale and waxy.
Lenore ran to the bed. “Oh no.” She shook him several times, but he would not rouse .
Harriet appeared in the doorway, her hair in its neat little bun. “Lenore, is he—” Her hands flew to her face.
Lenore looked over her shoulder. “Harriet, run down and get Hilda. Tell her it’s an emergency.”
Soon, Harriet returned with Hilda in tow. Hilda stepped forward. “Well, that’s a first for the boarding house.”
“Is he dead?” Harriet asked, swallowing hard.
“Yes.”
Alma appeared in the room, tying a sash around her housecoat. “What is all the commotion? It’s Saturday morning. Am I not entitled to some peace and quiet on my day off?”
She spied the late Mr. Forrester in his bed, and her eyes bulged and she let out a scream.
“Mrs. Mandelson!” Lenore said sharply. Now was not the time for hysteria.
“Haven’t you seen a dead body before?” Hilda asked.
“Not in my own house. My husband had the decency to pass away in the hospital!” Alma said, trembling.
Harriet put her arm around Alma and gently steered her away. “Come on, we’ve had quite a shock. Let me take you downstairs and make your breakfast for you. There’s that wonderful strawberry jam that Lenore made over the summer . . .” Her voice trailed off as she led the librarian out of the room .
“What do we do?” Lenore asked. She had no experience with this kind of thing.
Hilda was so calm; Lenore was grateful. “We call the doctor first,” she said. She looked over Mr. Forrester and added, “And then we’ll take it from there.”
Lavender Bay’s only physician, Dr. Charles Worthington, arrived quickly and pronounced Mr. Forrester dead. Lenore contacted Mrs. Whitmer, who didn’t seem too upset by her father’s passing, and Lenore realized that it must have come as a relief. She knew when the day came when her own parents passed away, she would feel a lot of things, but relief wouldn’t be one of them.
The doctor made the arrangements for the body to be removed and once Mr. Forrester was gone, Lenore and Hilda packed up his belongings and stored them up in the attic until his daughter could collect them. Then, donning headscarves and large aprons that covered their clothes, they tackled Mr. Forrester’s room. Harriet offered to mind Johnny downstairs to keep him out of their way.
The first thing they did was to open the windows and strip the bed. With a bucket of hot water and some Murphy Oil Soap, they washed down all the woodwork and the furniture. They vacuumed the carpet, and Lenore wiped down the curtains with a damp cloth. She covered a broom with a rag and tackled the cobwebs. When she was finished, she handed the broom to Hilda, who beat the mattress. The two of them flipped it over and put fresh, clean bed linen on it.
By lunchtime, they were finished. They stood back, hands on their hips, and looked around. That was much better. Smelled better, too. Hard to believe that it had been recently occupied by a deceased person.
Later that day, after all the commotion had subsided, Lenore was still quite shaken and decided some fresh air was called for. She took Johnny and set out on foot for her parents’ house. Laura, due with her second child, would be there with baby Edna. She was happy that there were babies in the family again. She missed those days.
Although the day was cool, there was warmth in the sun’s rays, and she’d picked up a second-hand Radio Flyer wagon, which Johnny currently sat in, pointing at all the things they passed as they made their way from Pearl Street to Bluebell Lane. As it was a dry day, she took the long way, heading south on Pearl until she hit Primrose Street. At the corner of Adams and Primrose, they stopped at the house belonging to the Williams family, whose father, Abner, worked in the post office alongside Fern Mulvihill. They had a golden retriever, Lady, who bounded toward them at the sight of the wagon coming around the corner .
As the excited dog whined and pranced around the wagon, Johnny laughed and clapped his hands.
Mrs. Williams emerged from her house, wondering what the commotion was, a frown on her face. She wore a pinafore apron over her dress. The frown was replaced with a smile as she recognized Lenore, and she threw her hand up in a wave. She made her way down the front steps of her home and joined Lenore on the sidewalk.
“Mrs. Hadley, how are you?” she asked. The other woman was in her mid-forties, a handsome woman with square shoulders, high cheekbones, and gray eyes.
“I’m well, thank you,” Lenore responded. It was nice to get out of the house and talk to other people for a change. “How are you and your family?”
Mrs. Williams nodded and smiled. “We’re all well, thanks be to God.” She gestured toward Johnny. “He’s growing fast. He’s the image of his father, isn’t he?”
Lenore smiled. She loved when people told her Johnny looked like John. “He is growing fast. I don’t know where the time goes.”
“There’s an old Irish proverb: ‘The days are long, but the years are short.’”
“Well, that certainly is true!”
Mrs. Williams’ smile disappeared as she said, “I heard about your boarder, dying like that in the middle of the night.”
Her tone made it sound like it was an inconvenience, and although Mr. Forrester had been crochety, Lenore was pretty sure he hadn’t died on purpose to discommode her. “It was unfortunate.”
“It seems a lot went on last night in Lavender Bay. Did you hear about Alistair Young?”
Lenore braced herself for bad news. She held her breath.
“His house burnt down last night.”
Lenore’s eyes widened. “That’s awful! Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, but he’s lost everything!” Mrs. Williams said. “He only has the clothes on his back.”
“Where is he staying?”
“Nowhere at the moment. The school has allowed him to set up a cot in the gymnasium at night until he finds other accommodation.”
“How awful,” Lenore said, oblivious to Lady slobbering on Johnny with her wet, sloppy kisses. Johnny giggled in response. Her thoughts were firmly on her friend Alistair, and she was determined to help him any way she could.
After stopping at her parents’ house, she returned home and left Johnny with Hilda, then drove the car over to McKinley High School, where Alistair taught English. School had already let out for the day, and she didn’t have a lot of time as she had to get home and help Hilda get the supper on.
The corridors smelled of beeswax and sawdust. She moved along the dimly lit hallway, thinking she hadn’t been there since she graduated, class of 1924, all those years ago. Before everything. Memories came slamming back. It had been a much simpler time.
There was no one about, and the sound of her heels striking the floorboards echoed along the corridor. She hoped it might alert Alistair to her impending arrival. When she reached the closed gymnasium doors, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. Did she just walk in, or did she knock? She stepped forward, hesitated again, and stepped back, biting her lip. Finally, she knocked. And when there was no answer, she rapped sharply on the door, this time louder. When there was still no answer, she opened the door slightly and popped her head in. Alistair was striding toward her, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His long, thin, angular features almost looked delicate, and there was evidence of worry lines on his forehead and dark purple circles beneath his eyes.
“Lenore!” he said. “What brings you here?”
She reached for his hands, holding them in hers. “I’ve come by to see how my friend is doing. I’ve heard about the fire. ”
Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and said evenly, as if they were talking about a spate of bad weather, “Yes, that was most unfortunate.”
“And you’re staying here?” Behind a medical screen with dark blue curtains was a single cot with an Army blanket and a small wooden table with books piled on top of it.
“I am. Temporarily.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. My home is gone, and I can’t afford to rebuild. I’m staying here while I consider my options, though I must confess, they are limited.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He waited, expectant.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Alistair looked around the gym, anywhere but at her. A slight pinkish tinge colored his cheeks. “I couldn’t impose on you like that, Lenore.”
“That’s nonsense, Alistair.”
She looked around his temporary living arrangement in a large gymnasium that smelled like sweaty socks, body odor, and floor wax. This wasn’t good enough for her friend. “It just so happens that I have a room for you to stay in.” To save him from any further embarrassment, she added quickly, “Just until you get back on your feet.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “You’d have your own room and breakfast and dinner every day.” It occurred to her that he had no kitchen to cook a meal. “How are you eating?”
“Some of the other teachers have offered to bring in food for me. Sandwiches and a plate of dinner . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck again, embarrassed.
“Well, I have my car out front. We can pack up your belongings and you can be in your own room tonight.”
“That is a wonderful offer, Lenore, and I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to pay you much.”
Now it was Lenore’s turn to go scarlet. “I should have made myself clear: I don’t expect you to let a room from me. I’m offering you a place to stay for however long you need.” And to clarify, she added, “Free of charge.”
“I can’t impose on you like that—”
She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Yes, you can.” This was a nice man who’d been a dear friend since childhood. Looking around at his sparse living conditions in the cavernous gym, she thought the sooner she got him out of here the better. “Now, do you have a lot to pack up?”
He shook his head. “No, only my books over there. I’ve lost everything.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll source some clothing for you.”
They were able to get his belongings to her car in a single trip. Before they left, he put the cot and table away, shut off the lights, and locked the doors of the building.
“This is very unorthodox, Mrs. Hadley,” Mrs. Mandelson said when she was introduced to Alistair later that evening at the dinner table.
They were all gathered in the dining room, around the large, rectangular walnut table. Lenore sat at the head with Johnny to her right and Hilda to her left. Harriet sat next to Johnny, and Mrs. Mandelson had taken the seat next to Hilda. After Lenore introduced Alistair to everyone, he took the seat next to Harriet.
“What do you mean by that?” Lenore asked, although she knew full well.
“This, this, this,” Mrs. Mandelson sputtered, her face turning beet red as she waved her fork around, with a piece of roast chicken speared to it. “Usually, boarding houses are either all females or all males.” Presumably she had been willing to overlook the late Mr. Forrester’s maleness because he was old.
How quickly things had changed in twenty-four hours.
“I understand that, Mrs. Mandelson,” Lenore said. “But we have someone in need.” She didn’t want to belabor the fact that her friend was now homeless.
Harriet passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to Alistair, who thanked her .
There was a grim set to the librarian’s lips. “It’s not right,” she said with a knowing look over to Harriet, and then to Alistair. “They’re young and . . . healthy . . . and it’s an opportunity to get into mischief.”
Both Alistair and Harriet stared straight ahead, their faces scarlet, their forks frozen mid-air.
“I trust them,” Lenore said pointedly, indicating the conversation was over.
Mrs. Mandelson emitted such a heavy sigh they probably heard it across the water in Canada. “I guess I’ll assume the role of chaperone.”
Hilda rolled her eyes, and Lenore wanted to laugh, but it was important to keep the peace among her lodgers. She trusted both Harriet and Alistair without a doubt and besides, he would not be residing there long term. It was only temporary.