by Darrell Case
Chapter 2
Victoria's feet wanted to skip but she restrained herself, knowing it wouldn't be ladylike. Her mint-green dress was too long to be fashionable but it at least it covered her worn shoes. She gathered the hem of the dress in her left hand to keep it from catching on the rough boardwalk.
The children's voices ran through her mind. That morning before lessons, they had practiced the Christmas songs. Teddie Hamilton's high notes on 'Silent Night' brought a smile to Victoria's lips. They sounded like the scraping of a dry wagon wheel. It made the other children cringe. Thinking of it now, she almost laughed out loud. She had finally convinced him to tone down some.
After she had dismissed the children, she discovered she was short three candles for the Christmas play. With only two hours to go, she hurried to the mercantile.
Stopping, she admired the coat in the window. Morgan's Mercantile carried only the best. The coat - - straight from Paris - - was certainly the most beautiful Victoria had ever seen; nothing compared to it. However, she felt herself very fortunate. Color reddened her cheeks as she thought of the many times she had hinted to Fred about needing a new coat when the one she had was perfectly fine.
Everything would change in the spring when she became Mrs. Fred Morgan. At thirty-five, Fred Morgan was still one of the most handsome men in Pottsville. Sensitive about his receding hairline, he compensated for it with his drooping handlebar mustache. Victoria always seemed to melt whenever she gazed into his deep brown eyes.
Victoria tugged at her glove, removing it from her left hand, and admired the diamond engagement ring. It sparkled in the sunlight that filtered through the clouds.
Movement drew her attention back to the window; someone was removing the coat from the display. She shaded her eyes to see inside the store window. It was Fred! Victoria smiled and gave him a shy little wave. Carefully folding the coat over his right arm, Fred turned and walked across the store.
Victoria frowned. It wasn't like Fred not to acknowledge her presence. Putting her glove back on, she stepped to the door. She stopped with her hand on the brass doorknob. The bell over the door tinkled, sounding to her like Christmas bells. The smile returned.
Of course, why didn't she think of it before? Christmas was two weeks away, too late to order another one. So dear, sweet Fred was taking it off the display before his mother or one of the clerks sold it.
She gave him sufficient time to carry it to the back room before entering the store. The odors of candy, coffee, oranges, and sweet meats assailed her nose. She breathed in the deep scents of Christmas. On three sides of the mercantile, shelves reached the entire fourteen feet from floor to ceiling while a counter ran the length of the back wall. On the counter lay her beloved coat. Before it, stood a sharply-dressed man, arguing with Fred, his little pig-jowls flaming red.
Throwing down his stovepipe hat beside the coat, he raised his voice.
"Confound it, Fred. I've spent hundreds of dollars in here over the years; you ought to give me that coat!"
"Can't do it, Mr. Mindis. Mother would have my head," Fred said, picking up the coat.
"Excuse me while I return this to the window."
"All right, all right, you win. Wrap it in your best paper. Elsie better like it," Mindis said, counting out the coins.
"I'm sure she will," Fred said, carefully folding the coat into a box.
Victoria watched it go as she might see a friend go to the grave. Fighting back the tears, she busied herself at the candles.
The bell hanging from the door rang again. This time it sounded like a death pall. She turned to see Mindis carrying a brightly colored package down the street. Gathering up the candles, she carried them to the counter.
"Will that be all?" Fred asked, totaling up her purchase. There was no hint of friendliness or recognition in his voice. Not knowing how to react, Victoria said nothing.
"As you can see, Miss Winters, we are extremely busy, so if there's nothing else?"
His words hung heavy in the air. Before she could stop them, the words tumbled out.
"You sold the coat," she said, trembling.
Fred smiled at her, his handlebar mustache curving up.
"Yes we did and at a very handsome profit I might add."
"But, but it was mine," Victoria said, the tears coming unbidden down her cheeks.
"Don't be silly, you couldn't afford a coat of that quality on a teacher's salary."
Victoria's cheeks burned as she averted her eyes.
"If you need a coat, I believe mother has an old one she would be willing to sell."
He raised his voice, "Mother could you come here a moment, please?"
"No, I'll make do," Victoria said as she gathered up the candles.
"Please put these on the school's account," she said, heading for the door.
"The account for the school was closed this morning," Fred stated.
Victoria wheeled around. Facing the storekeeper, she said, "By whose
authority?"
"The account is closed," Fred repeated. He paused. "As a member of the school board, I have that authority."
"Fine," Victoria said. Stomping up to the counter, she dug into her purse and extracted the few coins she was saving for a celebration dinner. Flinging them down on the counter, she rushed out.
She flew down the street oblivious to the stares and murmurs of the townspeople. Back in her living quarters at the rear of the schoolhouse, she threw herself across the bed and sobbed.
How could Fred be so insensitive? Upon her arrival in Pottsville this fall, he was so kind. She was thrilled when he began to call on her. When he asked her to marry him three weeks later, she accepted almost before the question was out of his mouth. True, most Saturday evenings, she waited an hour or more after he closed the mercantile, then he whisked her into the back entrance of the hotel to a private dining room. It all seemed so romantic. Now she wondered why he never wanted to be seen with her in public. He said he needed to prepare his mother for the news. She had a weak heart, but he had had months to make his intentions clear.
Exhausted, she allowed herself to close her eyes. "Just a few minutes rest, then I'll be refreshed," she thought.
Drowsiness overcame her and she fell into a restless sleep filled with images of Fred handing her the coat, then pulling it away, doubling over in laughter.
Some unknown noise awoke her. Startled, she lit the lamp. The wall clock with the broken face stared back at her. It said ten minutes to six .
"Oh my, I'm late," she said. Rushing to the armoire, she jerked it open. How glad she was Aunt Gertie had insisted she bring her best dress with her. Hurriedly she changed into the blue velvet gown with lace at the neck, waist, and hem. Glancing in the cracked mirror on the washstand, she was shocked at what she saw. Pouring water into the basin, she tried to wash her bloodshot eyes and remove the evidence of tears from her face.
"Well, I can't do anything about that now," Victoria told herself. She repaired her bun, tucking in stray strands of hair. Setting down on the bed, she buttoned up her shoes. How she wished she could afford a new pair. These had been repaired so many times they was more thread than leather. When cobblers saw the size of her feet, the price went up several dollars.
"Blimy, they're boats!" One exclaimed, causing Victoria cheeks to redden. After that, she wore longer dresses, and inquired about the prices at cobbler shops without lifting the hem of her dress to reveal her fe
et.
RIVER OF FIRE