Читать книгу The Last Government Girl - Ellen Herbert - Страница 13

7

Eddie took a deep breath and stepped into Aunt Viola’s parlor.

The small warm room crowded in at her, its frilly curtains, crocheted doilies everywhere, a mantle of tiny ceramic poodles, beady eyes aglow. The smell of all things old, lavender, talcum powder and dust, hung in the air.

Eddie hated small spaces. Sweat rolled down the furrow of her spine. She felt Rachel, Bert, and Pearl standing behind her, too many for this room.

In the corner, Aunt Viola filled an armchair. Her feet in flat slippers rested on an ottoman, a potentate’s pose. A glossy wooden Mission Bell radio sat on the table beside her, its dials fingertip close.

“Aunt Viola.” Eddie crossed the room and kissed the old goat’s powdery cheek. She never liked the woman and knew the feeling was mutual.

“Well, Edwina, you’re finally here. Go over yonder to the lamp and let me get a better look at you.”

Eddie sighed and stepped into the arc of light. Rachel watched with sympathy, while Pearl stayed in the doorway looking as if she might run away.

Aunt Viola put on glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. With eyes reduced to slits, she studied Eddie. “Turn ‘round, Edwina. Still a tall skinny gal, aren’t ya? You could a knocked me over with a feather when your daddy wrote that you got picked runner-up for Miss Saltville, but you’re a sight prettier than you used to be.”

“Thank you kindly, Aunt Viola.” Who needed detractors when you had relatives like her aunt?

“And that one with the long curly hair must be Miss Rachel Margolis. Come closer, honey. I won’t bite.” Aunt Viola sat straighter. Her aunt loved money and those who had it like Rachel. In her letter, Aunt Viola wrote how proud she would be to have the Margolis Department Store heiress living under her roof.

“Good evening, Mrs. Trundle.” Rachel’s voice was bright. Eddie had warned her about Aunt Viola.

“Course, I can see why you won Miss Saltville over Edwina. You’re really beautiful, Rachel, a beautiful little Jewess.”

Cringing, Eddie covered her mouth, but she could tell Rachel was taking it in stride.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Rachel curtsied. Eddie rolled her eyes.

Aunt Viola looked beyond Rachel. “But who the dickens is that other girl?”

“Aunt Viola, this is Pearl.” Eddie extended her arm to Pearl, who came forward, smoothing her faded skirt. “She’s billeted with you, too. Pearl is from just outside Saltville.”

“They didn’t mention a third girl.” Her chins folded like an accordion.

Pearl set her feed sack in front of Aunt Viola, who eyed it with derision. “I think I’ve got my letter right in here, Miz Trundle.” Pearl untied the end of the sack and peered in.

“I don’t need to be reading a letter this late in the evening. But I do need to know who’s living in my house. What’s your last name, girl?”

Pearl stared at Aunt Viola. Eddie held her breath, afraid of her aunt’s reaction. The mantle clock’s ticks divided the silence.

“Speak up, girl.”

Pearl bowed her head. “Ballou,” she said, her voice breaking over the syllables.

Something inside Eddie broke as well. She understood what Pearl was feeling: shame. Pearl had a baby out of wedlock, and, worse, Pearl came from a notorious family, which meant she had to assume their sins as well. That’s the way Saltville worked.

“Ballou?” Aunt Viola’s fleshy chins shook. “All Ballous are moonshiners. Ever body knows that.”

“You bring any moonshine with you, Pearl?” Bert called from the doorway.

“Albert Trundle, close that door and don’t ever say the word moonshine, you hear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Why would a grown man like Bert allow his mother to speak to him in such a way? Those who lived at home remained children. Eddie ought to know. Living under her father’s roof, she’d assumed the responsibilities of an adult without any of the freedom.

Aunt Viola lumbered to her feet her head flung so far back Eddie looked into the dark caves of her nostrils. Not a pretty sight. “Edwina, how dare you bring a Ballou into my house?”

Pearl’s eyes filled with tears, before she lowered her head and snuffled.

Eddie’s hands shook. She longed to grab her aunt and shake her. “I brought Pearl because she was assigned to stay here.” She placed her hand on Pearl’s waist and felt Pearl’s pouch. “Don’t be mean to Pearl. She’s my friend.”

Pearl couldn’t help being born into a family of bootleggers any more than Eddie could help being crazy Mrs. Smith’s daughter.

“She’s my friend, too.” Rachel strode to Pearl’s side. “If you don’t want Pearl here, we’ll take a taxi to a hotel tonight and find another place to live tomorrow.”

Over Pearl’s head, Eddie exchanged a glance with Rachel, her eyes luminous with righteousness. They stood united against Aunt Viola’s injustice, even though Pearl had probably lied about her government job and thus had lied about being billeted here.

“Please don’t leave, Rachel.” Aunt Viola collapsed into her chair. “Edwina knows how I get when I’m tired.” She spoke only to Rachel as if her nastiness was Eddie’s fault. “Welcome to my house, girls.” She raised her hands, her fingers stubby as link sausages. “Bert will show ya’ll upstairs to your room, but you’re going to have to bunk up together since there’s only a double bed and a twin.”

Rachel was out the door, Eddie close behind when Aunt Viola said, “And Pearl, I need ten dollars from you now for your first month’s rent.”

“All righty, ma’am.” Pearl turned from Aunt Viola, lifted her blouse, and opened the pouch around her waist.

Lamplight fell on Pearl’s wad of money, more money than Eddie had ever seen. Where had Pearl gotten it? Unease came over Eddie. She couldn’t think of any way Pearl had come by that money legitimately.

As Pearl flipped through the bills, a new smell was released into the room. It was the odor of alcohol, moonshine. Or was Eddie imagining this?

Pearl pulled out two damp tens, covered the pouch with her blouse, and turned to offer the bills to her aunt. “This here’s for two months, Miz Trundle.”

Aunt Viola smoothed the bills and smiled at Pearl for the first time. “Thank you, Pearl.”

Her aunt loved money, even moonshine money.