Chapter 31 #3
After a minute, Jack’s door opened. Even in this cold, uninviting place, I felt a warm light coursing through me, just seeing him.
He was with a man, older, with a thick head of light brown hair and a slight limp.
That’s Meg’s father. Garnett’s husband. Charlie’s …
coward. These thoughts tumbled out as racehorses did out of the gate, at once and all in the lead.
Mrs. Heidelberg—had she spoken to him? Had she asked him questions about the little girl who was actually his daughter?
“Birdie, what’re you doing here?” Jack walked over, smiling. “Dr. Pittman, this is Birdie Calhoun. She’s here visiting her sister, Frances Tartt.”
“Course, nice to see you,” he said and shook my hand. “How’s Mrs. Tartt doing? I know the heat gets to her this time of year.”
“Mrs. Tartt’s fine,” I said. His face betrayed nothing, but I stared at him, probably a second too long. Because those were Meg’s eyes, clear blue glass. Had no one ever noticed? It was uncanny. That must’ve eaten Garnett alive. “I’ll tell Mrs. Tartt you asked after her.”
Eleanor approached them with a brown folder.
Jack stood a full head taller than Dr. Pittman and he was thicker all over, his arms, his chest. On a different kind of day, I’d be entertained by the thought that my date could beat up Garnett Pittman’s.
Dr. Pittman’s navy suit coat and shirt were a little rumpled.
I imagined he started out crisp as a new dollar bill each morning, but after breakfast with his cold, bitter wife he was already wrinkled and defeated.
“I’ll let you know what we decide, Jack,” Dr. Pittman said. “I don’t mind showing myself out.”
“Good to see you, Dr. Pittman,” Jack said and turned to me. “That makes you my next appointment,” he said with a sly smile. “Eleanor, would you tell Mr. Allison I’ll be a few minutes late?”
I followed him to his office, and Jack shut the door behind us, but he didn’t sit down. He leaned against his desk so we were eye level and took my hand in his.
“I’ve only got a minute. Everything alright?” he asked.
I nodded. I liked that he was flirty with me even in the office. “You’re in a good mood today,” I said.
“I’m excited about our date tonight,” he said and pulled me an inch closer. “I haven’t seen you in a week.”
I let that sit a second to enjoy it. Through the glass I could feel Eleanor watching us, probably thinking a desperate woman like me could never land a man like Jack, and if I cared what she thought, I’d tell her, Darlin’, I’m still not near as desperate as you are, because nobody has any expectations for me.
The freedom in that was significant, though a little sad.
“I actually came by to tell you I can’t make it tonight. Things have gotten a little busy out at the house.”
His smile fell. “Well, you don’t have to look so happy about it,” he said. “What’s keeping you so busy?”
“We—” Don’t say we. “Mrs. Tartt, she decided to take in some boarders. To make a little money while she and Frances are in Jackson. So I’m just getting the house ready—there’s five of them. They got here yesterday.”
He tilted his head like this seemed unlikely, and here I’d thought I was getting better at this lying game. I’d better learn unless I wanted people to look at me like he was right now. “How’d you get that many boarders so fast?” he asked.
“Advertisement in the paper,” I said.
“Good for Mrs. Tartt,” he said, nodding.
“Lot of people looking to rent rooms in their house these days.” He pulled my hand up to his mouth and kissed it lightly.
“I don’t know yet when I have to go back to Jackson again, but it’ll probably be soon.
So what if I drove out to the house Sunday afternoon to see you? ”
Absolutely not. My mind scrambled. Sunday everything would be closed in town. “Why don’t we go to church together?”
A church date. His smile faded but it was still there. “Sure, I’ll come pick you—”
“No, you don’t need to. I’ll already be in town for—something. First Christ Methodist on Jackson Avenue.”
“I’ll pick up lunch beforehand and maybe we can have a picnic in my apartment.”
“Perfect,” I said, and he walked me to the door of the bank and squeezed my hand goodbye.
Outside the bank, I took a second to breathe before running the rest of my errands. I needed to order ice and cold drinks and buy cigarettes to sell as singles and all the Merry Widows brand condoms a woman was allowed to buy without a doctor’s prescription. This required some extra oxygen.
Someone touched my arm, and I jumped. “Dr. Pittman,” I said. He’d waited on me to come out of the bank.
“Listen. I need you to stop calling the Heidelbergs,” he said. “Do you understand what I’m asking you, Miss Calhoun?”
I nodded and eased my arm out from under his hand. I understood what he wanted. He wanted Meg to disappear in his wife’s damn work program so she wouldn’t be their problem anymore.
“What … exactly did Mrs. Heidelberg tell you?” I asked.
He looked tired and older than tight-faced Garnett. “That they’d wanted an infant from a reputable agency, and now that you told her the girl is from Oxford, she thinks it would be best to return her.”
I wanted to cry, hearing it put so plainly. “Are they? Going to return Meg?”
“I don’t know. I said everything under the sun to convince them not to.”
“You tried to convince them … not to return Meg?”
“Of course I did. The Heidelbergs are that girl’s last chance for a decent childhood.”
My head was swimming. Did he know his wife was working against him? Did he know her plans for Meg?
“Miss Calhoun, this child is no longer any of your concern. Will you please leave the family alone?”
Could he not even say her name? And I was not about to assume that Meg was fine with a family that didn’t think she was good enough for them. “I want what’s best for Meg,” I said and I left it at that.
Squinting at me in the bright light, he leaned toward me and was about to say something else.
“Afternoon, Doc.” A man raised his straw hat at Dr. Pittman, shutting him up. As the man kept on talking, Dr. Pittman nodded to me, so I moved on.
After my errands, I flagged down a taxi instead of trying to find the girls.
There were plenty of them going up and down the road.
When I pulled up to the house, Mr. Binny’s taxicab was parked out front.
Struggling inside, I almost dropped everything in the foyer, including the bag with the johnnies, and caught a glimpse of pudgy old Mr. Binny and Charlie in the front sitting room.
He was perched on the three-legged sofa, sitting as upright as he did behind the wheel of his car, holding a glass of ice water that looked like he hadn’t had a sip of it.
At the moment, his frown looked even deeper than usual, entrenched, and I tucked myself back where they couldn’t see me.
I strained to hear. I reckoned the disaster of it drew me in, like an automobile accident.
This news could kill old Mr. Binny. He was also bound to be the first colored person ever to sit uncomfortably in Mrs. Tartt’s formal sitting room, shabby or not.
Only made worse by what Charlie was asking him to be a part of, probably as casual as asking him how his day was.
I heard Mr. Binny say in a deep voice, “And what if Miz Tartt come home to find Mr. Binny and His Band a Brothers playing fo a cathouse?” His question had started down low, but it rose in octaves as it went. Clearly I’d arrived at the moment of impact.
Charlie thought it over. “I suppose she’d take you for a smart businessman, Mr. Binny. I certainly do,” she said in a smooth voice. “You know it makes sense to seize a good opportunity when it presents itself, and I know you won’t spread it all over town. That’s why I’m offering you the job first.”
Mr. Binny let out a sharp, short bark, humph.
Like he saw right through her trying to butter him up.
But she must’ve lubricated his joints, because after assurances that we’d only be open a month, et cetera, et cetera, he agreed to come play the following night.
As I walked quickly up the wide hall, Lord, I thought I might’ve even heard Mr. Binny laugh.
When I went in the kitchen, Esmeralda was in there.
She must’ve parked her Pierce-Arrow around back.
I could see through the window, Ruby and the twins were outside, hanging ornaments and stringing more lights up in the backyard to look like Mrs. Tartt’s New Year’s party circa 1923.
“Es, how’d it go at the depot?” I asked.
“Don’t tell Charlie, but we had to leave in a hurry. The girls thought the stationmaster had his eye on them, so they ran back to the car.”
Oh God.
Esmeralda shook her head. “I think Charlie’s playing with fire, not lining something up with the sheriff.”
I nodded as if I agreed with her, which I did not. I was terrified of Charlie finding herself in the sheriff’s crosshairs, and equally terrified of spooking Charlie with news of Welty and Meg and provoking her to do something stupid, which would create a whole ’nother calamity for all of us.
These secrets I was keeping were really starting to stack up.
“Any sign of the doctor yet?” Charlie asked, coming in with Flossy. Esmeralda and I both shook our heads. As I recalled, he was supposed to be here at one and it was close to two.
“He better show or I ain’t opening,” Flossy said.
“I spoke to Kleinkamp’s nurse this morning and she told me he’d be here,” Charlie said. “Come help me in the cellar, Flossy. We’ve got a lot to get done before tomorrow.”
Indeed, there was a lot yet to do to set up a dance club that was also a boardinghouse that was actually a speakeasy that was truly a brothel.