25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
The edge of downtown Newtonville started with the church and grammar school and stretched on in one straight line. And that line wasn’t very long. This village fit the very definition of a one-horse town, not that Jacquelyn saw any horses. Luckily, a sidewalk lined the front of the buildings, so she had a safe place to walk.
As Mary had warned, most of the businesses were closed. The bakery, the post office, and the butcher shop all had hand-printed signs hanging on the inside of the doorways that indicated they were closed for the holidays but would be open on December 26. As if that would help her.
She pressed her face against the glass window of a fabric shop that still had lights on, but she didn’t see anyone inside. She knocked for good measure, but there was no response. Christmas wasn’t until tomorrow. Why wasn’t anyone working? Hadn’t they heard of last-minute shopping? In the city, the department stores would be filled with throngs of shoppers right now. She herself often shopped the day of Christmas Eve, taking in the stores’ festive decorations and the lines of children waiting to see Santa.
A truck drove toward her and she raised her arm for them to stop, but the old man inside mistook her gesture for a wave and returned the greeting as he went past. She sighed and continued on.
Store after store disappointed her, all the way to the end of the shopping district. Farther down, she saw signs of life surrounding a building off in the distance. Vehicles lined the street in front of it, and as she watched, the door was flung open and a man stumbled out. The distant sound of music followed him out, only lasting until the door slammed shut. A smile stretched across her face. Finally! Evidence of life in this burg. As the man wandered off, Jacquelyn quickened her steps.
Getting closer, she saw the sign. The Mule. Twenty yards beyond, the stumbling man leaned over and vomited into the street. From that and the beer sign in the window, she surmised that she’d found the village tavern. Well, while it certainly wasn’t a place she’d usually visit, the fact of the matter was that liquor and men went together, and judging by the trucks and automobiles in front, they had transportation. Maybe one of them would like to make some quick and easy money the day before Christmas.
Inside, the air was warm and damp, an improvement from being out in the cold. A half dozen men were seated at the bar, and a handful more were sitting at two tables. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Behind the bar, a large older woman poured whiskey into a line of shot glasses. When done, she raised her eyes and noticed Jacquelyn with surprise. “What have we here?” she said, her voice husky.
Jacquelyn strode authoritatively to the end of the bar and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “I’m looking to hire someone to drive me to Whitefish Bay.” Seeing their blank stares, she added, “It’s near Milwaukee. I can pay well.”
“How much you willing to pay?” one grizzled old man asked.
“How much are you proposing?” The Sheridans might have bank accounts bulging at the seams, but that didn’t mean she was going to just throw money to the wind. Her father always said that a hard bargain could be easily won, if a person was thoughtful and prudent.
“Fifty dollars!” He stood up and banged a fist on the bar. “And not a penny less.”
Every man in the place burst into uproarious laughter. Somehow she’d wandered into the sole Newtonville tavern and found a group of men who thought her misery was funny.
“All right, then,” she said, turning to address the crowd. “I’ll pay fifty dollars to the first man who is willing to leave and drive me home right now.”
The woman behind the bar cackled. “They must pay better at the home than I thought.”
“For fifty dollars, I’ll do it,” came a shout from the back.
“No, I’ll do it,” said one of the men drinking beer at the closest table.
“What the hell, I’ll do it! ”
“Let me take you, miss.”
The old man who’d pounded on the bar said, “Show me the money and we can leave right now.”
“I don’t have the money with me at the moment.” As soon as the words were out, all of their enthusiasm disappeared.
“Knew it was too good to be true.”
“April Fools’ came early, I guess.”
“No! I’m completely serious!” she cried out. “I swear to you that my family is very wealthy. I’m only dressed like this because I was pulling a prank. I’m Jacquelyn Sheridan. I’m sure you’ve heard the name.”
“I know the name, but you ain’t one of them.” This came from a dark corner in the back of the room.
“Wealthy my foot. She looks about as poor as a church mouse.”
She fished around in her pocket and pulled out her change. “I have thirty-seven cents, which I can pay up front as a goodwill gesture. The balance will be paid upon my return home.”
“How do we know you’ll pay it once you get there?”
“I give you my word,” she said solemnly.
“Eh.” One of the men at the bar slapped his hand in the air as if waving away a pesky fly. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Those on the barstools turned away from her, clearly having lost interest.
“I’ll swear on the Bible, if need be!” she cried out. “I’m worried about my family, and I need to get home. ”
Her words did not persuade them. They began talking to each other, making a point to ignore her. Couldn’t they see she needed help? They were only judging her by the flimsiest of evidence, the clothes on her back. How could they be so hateful, especially so close to Christmas?
The lady behind the bar looked up from wiping the counter. “Maybe you have something in that bag you could use for barter?” She gestured to the cloth bag draped over her shoulder, the one that held Nellie’s sandwich.
“No, I don’t have anything of value.”
“Are you interested in a drink, then, miss?”
“No, thank you,” Jacquelyn said, blinking back tears.
“Then you’d best be moving on.” She pointed to the door with a jab of her thumb. “There’s nothing for you here.”