Читать книгу The Last Government Girl - Ellen Herbert - Страница 17

11

Pausing on the stairs, Rachel turned back to Eddie. “I notice Captain Silver Spoon didn’t pick you up here, so don’t give my date the third degree, please.”

“Silver Spoon’s too upper crusty to come to Georgia Avenue.” Eddie brought her index finger to the tip of her nose and pushed it up. “I met him and his Yale pals at a restaurant, where he acted more interested in his friends than in me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Trundle even asked my date about his family in Mississippi.”

Eddie flushed with fremdschamen, vicarious embarrassment. Aunt Viola acted as if their ancestors had come over on the Mayflower when they were really hardscrabble mountainfolk.

“You said Bert knows this guy, right?” Eddie worried about Rachel going out with a man she met on the streetcar this afternoon. Of course, Eddie had met Silver Spoon on the train. Gone were the days when a woman and man needed a proper introduction.

“Mr. Berman, Bert’s employer, is also Thad’s landlord.” Rachel held the parlor door for Eddie.

A reedy young man with unruly sandy blond hair and black glasses got to his feet. “Hello, there.” His features swam into place, eyes dark as onyx, snub nose, easy smile, too easy. Thad Graham didn’t look unhappy trapped in Aunt Viola’s web, and Eddie found that odd.

When Rachel introduced them, Eddie shook his hand and felt the writing callous on his middle finger and the roughness of his palm. Thad hadn’t always been an office worker.

Eddie said, “I’m surprised a reporter isn’t still at work on such an auspicious day.”

All day she’d longed to telephone her father to talk about D-Day. Beginning with that December when they listened to the news bulletin that Pearl Harbor had been bombed, they’d been on a journey. It wasn’t over yet, but maybe what had happened on those French beaches brought the end nearer.

“Right you are, Eddie. The whole newsroom is buzzing with D-Day, but my beat’s local, what’s happening right here in Washington.” He had a sweet southern drawl.

“You mean crime?” Eddie said.

“Edwina, don’t you start. I forbid that kind of talk in my parlor.” Aunt Viola flapped a large paper fan Jones Funeral Home printed over a blazing sunset on one side, sunrise on the other, not a subtle metaphor. “Ya’ll sit and stop treating my parlor like Union Station.”

“Beg pardon, Ma’am.” Thad sank into his cushioned armchair, while Rachel crouched in a nearby chair like a runner waiting for the start of her race.

Palms folded on his lap, Thad said, “So how long has the G-man lived out back, Ma’am?”

Bert spoke up from the sofa. “Mama, Jess doesn’t want us discussing them.”

Aunt Viola shot Bert a look. Seldom did her son correct her. “I want Thad to know I’m doing my part for the war.”

But Eddie’s alarm bells went off. After the big deal her aunt made about not introducing Jessup Lindsay to her and Rachel, Eddie had found and read the article about him in The Washington Herald, Thad’s employer.

“You wrote the article about Special Agent Lindsay, didn’t you?” Eddie was guessing.

“You’re pretty sharp, Eddie.” Thad showed nice white teeth. “Rachel tells me you’re a writer, too.”

Thad was pretty sharp, too. “Not really.” Eddie wasn’t sure about him. Had his meeting Rachel really been by chance? Eddie imagined Rachel telling her to stop distrusting everyone. If people were more trustworthy, maybe she could.

“Last winter Eddie won a poetry competition with a beautiful poem about Saltville. It was published in The Atlantic Monthly magazine.” Rachel traded a sideways glance with Thad, a look full of sparks.

“Sure would like to read it, Eddie,” Thad said.

“Of course.” Eddie couldn’t deny he was cute. And if he had an ulterior motive for meeting Rachel, maybe he didn’t any longer. Thad Graham appeared smitten.

“I never heard of that magazine,” Aunt Viola said. “This here’s my favorite.” She reached into her magazine stand and pulled out Photoplay, a dark-haired young actress on the cover.

Bert craned forward and snapped his fingers. “That’s who you look like, Rachel. Elizabeth Taylor.”

They all agreed, except for Rachel, her face pink with delight. She thanked Bert. Eddie knew Rachel did her best to look like the actress.

“That reminds me, Thad.” Rachel stood, purse wedged under her arm. “Hadn’t we better be going if we want to make the next showing of Suspicion? It’s almost six-thirty.”

Thad sighed as if reluctant to leave.

“Thank you so much for the candied pecans, Thad.” Aunt Viola patted the box beside her radio. “You’re so sweet to bring ‘em to me.”

Thad took Aunt Viola’s hand as if she was royalty. “I do believe this is the coolest, most pleasant parlor in all Washington City, Ma’am. I hope I may visit you again.”

He knew who had the loose lips in this house.

“Please do, Thad. You’re always welcome. Too many young-uns don’t have your nice manners.”

Rachel got Thad out the front door. Eddie and Bert followed. From the porch, they watched Thad walk Rachel toward a maroon-colored car. His hand edged up her back.

“Is he trustworthy?” Eddie asked her cousin.

“I reckon. He rents the Berman’s basement, but with them gone for the summer, he has the run of their whole house and the plant. Sometimes he borrows a truck if he’s low on gasoline, and he’s always showing up with laundry he wants done right away.”

“So the laundry plant is near the Berman’s house?”

“Yup.” Bert leaned against the porch post, looking dog-tired. He delivered laundry for Berman’s then worked weekends for Jones Funeral Home on 16th Street. His dream was to get his funeral director license. Their grandfather had been an embalmer, so funerals were in their blood.

Eddie noticed that Bert’s ankles looked swollen. She guessed this was from his hemophilia, not that he complained. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t have to work tonight.”

“’Afraid, so, Cuz. Got to grab a sandwich before I head out.” He turned his gaze to the street. “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

Pearl approached their gate, a large shopping bag in each hand.

Pearl had promised to move out as soon as she got a job. The problem was she couldn’t get hired, even in Washington where employers were desperate for workers.

“See you later, Eddie.” Bert went inside. He had avoided Pearl ever since she went to his room late one night and offered to rub his back. Shocked at how forward she was, he sent her away and told Eddie about it.

Eddie went down the sidewalk and helped Pearl with her bags. What had she bought now? Pearl so enjoyed having money for the first time in her life.

“Rachel introduced me to her date, Thad.” Pearl said. “He’s a real dreamboat.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie held the door. “How’s your job-hunting?”

Tonight Eddie was going to give Pearl an ultimatum. Pearl either moved out or Eddie would tell Bert about the stolen money. He had a right to know since the money threatened everyone living here.

“I got real good news, Eddie.” Pearl winked.

Eddie didn’t get her hopes up. Pearl kept telling them she was close to getting hired at different government agencies, but when Eddie went through Pearl’s dresser drawer, she found copies of failed tests for typing, record-keeping, even filing. How could Pearl not know the alphabet?

Okay, so Eddie was a snoop, but she had to be with Pearl, who seldom told the truth.

Aunt Viola turned down the radio. “Hey, Pearl girl. Come in and show me what you bought.”

As Pearl had transformed from ragged hillbilly to city girl with plenty of money, Aunt Viola had warmed to her. Eddie enjoyed observing people do an about-face, as her aunt had done about Pearl. Yet why didn’t Aunt Viola or Rachel wonder where Pearl’s money came from?

Pearl went in the parlor and took out a cotton dress from a Hecht Company bag. “Rachel showed me colors partial to redheads like me. This here’s peach.”

Yes, Pearl was a quick learner when it came to fashion and makeup. Rachel had an unerring sense of color and style, which she taught to Pearl and Eddie.

Eddie sat at the telephone table and listened to Aunt Viola rhapsodize about the dress. Her aunt was such a faulpelz. She did nothing all day, except listen to radio soap operas, keeping the radio’s volume high to hear over the fan’s whir.

Ruth trudged downstairs in her housekeeper’s apron, her forehead bunched. When she saw Eddie, her mask of indifference dropped, and she whispered, “Tomorrow.”

“You’re ready.” Eddie squeezed Ruth’s hand before Ruth went down the hall to the kitchen.

Last week Eddie ran into Ruth at the Mt. Pleasant Library, where Ruth had not been friendly. Why should she be? Ever since Ruth graduated from high school last year, she’d worked for Aunt Viola, which would turn anyone sour.

After Eddie discovered Ruth was studying for the Civil Service test, Eddie found books for her. Since then, she and Ruth had met at the library to go over sample tests. Intelligent Ruth deserved better than cleaning and cooking here six days a week.

In the parlor, Aunt Viola told Pearl, “Model it for me later, honey, once Bachelor’s Children is over.”

Eddie helped take Pearl’s bags upstairs. Once she closed the door behind them, she said, “Pearl, you promised to move out as soon as you found a job, but…”

“You hit the nail on the head.” Pearl perched on the dressing table’s bench. “I’m about to get hired as a switchboard operator trainee for the War Department.”

Eddie sat on her bed, her back against the wall and studied Pearl’s watery blue eyes that looked straight at Eddie. She had read that when people tell a lie their gazes shift, which must be where the adjective shifty came from.

But at the moment Pearl held Eddie’s gaze.

“So you’ll be working at the Pentagon?” The Pentagon was in Virginia, which would make a great excuse for Pearl to move out in order to live closer to her job.

“Not so fast. To get the job, I need your help.” She sauntered over to Eddie. “Since you was my high school English teacher, I put your name and our telephone number on the paper. You have to give me a real good reference.”

Eddie scooted forward on the bed. “But you got Ds in my class before you dropped out. How can I give you a good reference?”

“You want me to move out, don’t you?” Pearl grabbed the scarf around Eddie’s neck and yanked her forward. “I’m not going anywhere unless you…”

Eddie shoved Pearl back and stood. “How dare you threaten me.” If Pearl had been a man instead of a pipsqueak woman, she might have been as violent as her uncle.

“Sorry Eddie.” Pearl reached up and straightened Eddie’s scarf.

“Don’t touch me.” Eddie swatted her hands away.

Pearl said, “I want to be a government girl so bad…”

So bad she refused to apply for jobs that weren’t with the government, which Eddie had suggested. Pearl said she hadn’t come all the way to Washington to work just anywhere.

Downstairs the telephone rang.

“That’s probably Mrs. Shelton, the switchboard supervisor. She told me she’d call around seven. Pretty please, Eddie. Give me a good reference.”

Eddie went down the steps, not sure what she would say. She hated to lie, but Pearl needed to leave Georgia Avenue. Still, she had never believed the ends justified the means.

She picked up the receiver, listened to the voice, and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. You must have the wrong number.” She set the receiver back in its cradle.

“That was quick,” Pearl said when Eddie returned to the room. “What did you tell her?”

“That wasn’t your supervisor, Pearl. That was a man with a mountain accent, who asked for you, Pearl Ballou.”