Chapter Five
She struggled to get her feet into her slippers but then kicked them off again when she realized she hadn’t time to go down for breakfast. Instead, she went to her closet and pulled on a blouse and her work skirt.
Despite having gone to bed early, she hadn’t gotten to sleep until the wee hours, and even then, had slept fitfully.
All night, she had tossed and turned, thinking about Freddy’s announcement.
Dressed now, she threw herself onto her vanity stool and began to frantically brush her hair.
Her thoughts had run the gamut during the course of the night, going from insisting that she remain in charge of the Merc and demanding that Fred go back to school to capitulating completely and returning to Chicago, if only to watch him fail.
But she couldn’t do that, she thought, as she carefully applied some lipstick.
As much as she would love to see Fred humbled, she couldn’t bear to let the Merc fail.
Downstairs, the dining room was deserted.
Helenka had already cleared away breakfast. Melody was tempted to simply dash out the door, but then a thought struck her.
Why was she hurrying? Fred was there. He would no doubt have choice words for her when she finally turned up, but would it matter if she took the time to have a cup of coffee?
After all, he fancied himself in charge now, so let him handle the morning’s business.
His custom these past weeks was to simply lock himself in the office for most of the day, letting Melody handle the daily operations as well as the staff.
Well, let him do it. It would be good for him to see what he was really getting into.
She pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, expecting to find Helenka there, but she was not.
She must be upstairs already, either making beds or tending to Mums. Helenka had gotten into the bad habit of carrying breakfast up to Mums instead of Mums joining them as she always had.
It made Melody sad all over again. Her mother used to be the first one up every day, bright and cheerful, with a long list of to-dos for the day.
Now it was a struggle just to get her to come down for dinner. Oh, Pops! Why?
Morosely, Melody poured herself a cup of coffee.
Maybe she really should go back to Chicago, she considered.
She could return to her gay life at Mundelein and pretend that Mums and Pops were still back here, still alive, still happy.
She might even be able to resurrect the old foursome—her and Cynthia and Douglas and Charlie.
Maybe she could get Douglas to accept a friendship instead of a love affair, and everything could go back to the way it was—football games and dances and holding court in the grand parlor of Philomena with Mundelein’s most elite and fashionable girls clustered around her.
Maybe she could even get a job at a sweetshop or a soda fountain on Saturday afternoons as a way to pay Douglas back for his ring.
Right now, everything went to paying the bills and buying supplies. With the Merc on such a tightrope, she hadn’t dared to pocket any money for herself. But if she had a little side job in Chicago, she could surely keep that money until she had enough to pay Douglas.
She set her empty coffee cup in the sink and went to get her hat and coat.
Maybe she should let Fred take over. After all, maybe he wouldn’t fail.
Maybe his “sound Harvard business practices” would turn the Merc around more than her farcical ideas would.
She wished she could discuss it with Frank, but she could already guess what he would advise: stay the course and be part of Merriweather’s revival.
Melody slipped out of the house and began walking down Ridge. Though there was still a trace of frost on the ground, the trees were beginning to bud, and she could see flowers beginning to poke through the dead autumn leaves against the white picket fences. They cheered her.
As she turned onto High Street, she tried to view Merriweather as an outsider might.
It had definite charm, she decided, and felt herself wavering yet again.
It wasn’t at all a bad place to live. She had grown used to running the Merc and to, well, to stepping into her father’s shoes.
Admittedly, they were big shoes to fill, but she had grown immeasurably in confidence since last fall.
She was proud of what she had accomplished so far, and she repeated the retort she had thrown at Freddy last night—that it was her whom Pops had asked to come back and help, not him.
She could always come back after she graduated.
It wouldn’t be forever, after all. Unless, of course, she met someone in Chicago and fell head over heels.
But that, she mused, was unlikely to happen. No, this was where she belonged, she resolved, and Fred wasn’t going to push her out, as if she had no say in the matter.
When she finally arrived at the Merc, she stood for a moment enjoying the display in the big front window.
Her latest window design filled her with not a little pride.
Instead of the rakes and shovels and seed packs they normally showcased as part of their “Get Ready for Spring” display, she and Harriet had arranged one that featured a pastel bunting draped across the window with Kate’s baskets assembled on the ground and atop boxes draped with pastel cloth.
Artfully arranged throughout were the luxury hats and gloves she had ordered last fall, and at the center of it all was a bicycle!
It was Melody’s latest idea for a product they might stock.
There used to be a bicycle shop in town—Brietbach’s—but they had gone out of business shortly after the Crash.
Now, if one wanted a bicycle, you had to go all the way to Madison.
It had been a stroke of genius on her part, Melody thought proudly.
She pushed open the door, the shop bell tinkling. “Sorry, I’m late!” she cried.
“Oh, hello, Melody!” Harriet was behind the counter, a feather duster in hand. There was no sign, of course, of Fred. “We were getting worried, weren’t we, Mrs. Haufbrau?”
Mrs. Haufbrau merely grunted and returned to looking over the receipt book at the back counter, her favorite task.
“We were just talking about the wedding,” Harriet explained as she returned to jabbing her feather duster between the jars of candy sticks.
“Have you decided on a date?” Melody shed her hat and coat and reached for her apron.
“Oh, yes!” Harriet gushed. “We finally decided late last night. June 11! I’m to be a June bride! Mom thinks it’s a bit too fast, but I don’t. Do you, Melody?”
“Yes, it’s too fast,” Mrs. Haufbrau called without looking up.
“Well, I don’t know.” Melody tied on the apron. “Have you talked to Fr. Eggert? What does he say?”
Harriet glanced nervously at Mrs. Haufbrau. “Well, he says it’s okay as long as . . . as long as, you know.” She blushed.
“People will talk,” Mrs. Haufbrau chirped matter-of-factly, still absorbed in the receipt book.
“Well, anyway.” Harriet’s voice was lower now.
“We’ve already gotten so much done. Mom is sewing my dress, and John’s to buy a new suit.
His brother, Walter, is to be the best man, and I’m having two of his sisters for bridesmaids.
” She looked guiltily at Melody. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you, Melody!
I wanted to, you know. Well, actually, I wasn’t sure I should, seeing as you’re my boss.
Though I know we’re friends, too! But it was on account of John having so many sisters.
Already there’s been hurt feelings. We chose Frances, ‘cause she’s the oldest, and then Irene, ‘cause she’s the next oldest—after Walter.
So, you see. You don’t mind, do you, Melody? ”
In truth, Melody was a little hurt. She had assumed that she would naturally be a part of the wedding she had helped bring about .
. . although, she supposed that wasn’t really true.
She had been the one trying to actively break the young couple apart, at least in the beginning.
And besides, she wouldn’t be a very jolly addition to a wedding party right now, nor did she probably have the time, she convinced herself.
“That’s alright, Harriet.” She forced her best smile and began straightening the copies of the Saturday Evening Post in their rack.
“Oh, I’m so glad you understand!” Harriet gushed again.
“I’ve been dreading telling you.” Her face had resumed its earlier brightness.
“And now we have to come up with another groomsman. John only has the one brother, and I have none, of course. We’re thinking maybe a cousin?
Mom says it doesn’t have to be even, but what do you think, Melody? ”
“In my day,” piped up Mrs. Haufbrau, “we only had two witnesses. That’s all that’s necessary.
Anything more is just a show. A pageant.
And that ain’t what a marriage is. And if you don’t know that by now, you’re in for a sad awakening.
” Mrs. Haufbrau closed the receipt book.
“But I guess you wouldn’t know, would you? Having no father all these years.”