It was crowded and noisy in the theater lobby and Mary Ellen and William’s initial hello was both rushed and impersonal. Mary Ellen did her best to appear cheerful as she clung possessively to Randall’s arm, praying she would not cry or throw up. William did his best to conceal his true feelings toward Mary Ellen, so as not to embarrass the woman he loved. Unfortunately, his forced gaiety only stoked his date’s expectations for the evening.
There was no real opportunity to chat at the theatre. It wasn’t until the couples met for a late supper at a restaurant that they were free to converse. Four couples sat around the table, and Mary Ellen had met all of them before, except for William’s date, Margaret.
“Next year at this time we won’t be able to do this,” Mildred Clark commented as she sipped her sherry.
“What do you mean?” Mitzy Vanderboom asked.
“I believe she is referring to this,” Vincent Vanderboom said as he held up a glass of brandy.
“I can’t believe they’re actually going to pass nationwide prohibition.” Mildred took another sip of her drink.
“Last I heard, thirteen states have ratified the amendment,” Vincent said.
“I believe it’s fourteen now,” William corrected.
“Just means new business opportunities,” Randall reminded them.
“Don’t tell me Coulson-Hunter is going into the moonshine business,” Vincent Vanderboom asked with a chuckle.
“Not sure about moonshine, but I don’t doubt for a minute every single person at this table has already filled their wine cellars.” They laughed at Randall’s quip, except for Mary Ellen and William whose gazes happen to lock momentarily, unnoticed by their dinner companions. The next moment the server arrived at the table and Mary Ellen was the first to look away, breaking the intense stare she’d briefly shared with the man she secretly loved.
• • • •
“You seemed to enjoy yourself this evening,” Randall commented on their way home.
“I like your friends.” Mary Ellen meant it.
“They’re your friends now, too. I can tell they’re quite taken with you.”
Mary Ellen recalled William has said something similar after their first night at the theatre.
“I hope William isn’t serious about Margaret,” Randall commented.
“Why is that?” Mary Ellen felt the same way, yet didn’t share that thought.
“She just isn’t right for him.”
“I thought you wanted him to marry and have children.” She remembered Randall telling William that during several of their dinners together.
“I suppose I want him to be happy. But she isn’t the one.”
Randall quickly changed the subject and said, “We’ve meetings set up for the next week and a half, because of the recent merger. If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps we can all go to the theatre again, after things settle down at work. Sometime after September eighteenth, if you’re still up to it.”
“I’d like that Randall, thank you.”
Unfortunately they didn’t make it back to the theatre for the rest of the year. By mid-September their world had changed.
Chapter Seventeen
The influenza epidemic of 1918, referred to as the Spanish influenza, killed approximately 50 million people worldwide within just a few months—more deaths than any other illness in recorded history. Although the disease was being reported overseas in Madrid, America was not paying attention. Troop movements during the final days of World War I contributed to the influenza’s rapid spread.
Philadelphia would be the American city with the highest death toll. No one really noticed when the first few cases were reported in mid-September, but by the first week of October theatres, restaurants, churches, vaudeville and saloons were closed throughout the state, with schools closing in Philadelphia.
“You’ve closed the factory?” Mary Ellen greeted Randall at the front door. He’d told her his intentions that morning, but she wasn’t certain he would do it.
“I had no choice. It seems as if ninety-five percent of our labor force is either down with influenza or nursing a family member.”
“I assume William agreed.”
“He wanted me to do it last week.”
“How is William? I haven’t seen him since the theatre.”
“Like me, he’s managed to avoid this damn thing. But I don’t know for how long. How are you feeling, Mary Ellen?”
Randall turned to his wife, sincere concern showing on his face.
“I’m fine. Just getting a little stir crazy, being confined to the estate.”
“Trust me, you’re better here.”
“I admit, I miss Lily. Never thought I would say that when I first met her.” Together they walked toward the kitchen, as dinner was about to be served.
“When this finally breaks, she can come back. But I don’t want the staff coming and going, bringing the illness here.”
“Thank you for paying her while she’s off, her family needs the money.”
“I don’t want you to worry; it’s not good for the baby.” Randall failed to tell her it was actually William who suggested he continued to pay Lily while she was temporarily off work. With two small children at home, she was not in a position to live full time at the estate.
William understood why Randall didn’t want staff coming and going, bringing the illness to Mary Ellen. The influenza gave William another reason to avoid coming to Coulson Estate. Should he come down with the influenza, he did not want to infect her or risk the unborn baby’s health. Randall was taking every precaution when out in public, which included wearing a face mask, yet he too was at risk.
They found Mrs. Parker in the kitchen, preparing something for them to eat. The cook, like Lily, was no longer coming to work, as she had a family off the estate to tend for. With the cook and Lily absent, many of their duties fell on Mrs. Parker’s shoulders.
“You can serve dinner now,” Mary Ellen told the housekeeper, then she and Randall went to the dining room.
“It’s a pitiful thing,” Mrs. Parker said as she served them each a bowl of soup. “I heard from Clara Barnes that the bridge ladies—you know them I think, they all live on the next street over.” Formality between the few remaining members of the household staff and the Coulsons was another casualty of the epidemic.
“Bridge ladies?” Mary Ellen asked with a frown.
“Oh, you haven’t met them, Mrs. Coulson. My friends call them the bridge ladies because the four faithfully play bridge every Tuesday night. They play until the wee hours of the morning. Have for the last fifteen years. They got together last Tuesday for their regular game, and by the next morning—every single one of them had come down with the influenza and died. Dropped dead right during the bridge game.”
“Oh, Mrs. Parker, where did you ever hear such a thing?” Randall asked.
“I told you, Mr. Randall, from Clara Barnes.”
“And how did you happen to talk to Clara Barnes?”
“On the telephone.”
“Mrs. Parker, you need to remember, none of us are to use the telephone lines unless it is an absolute necessity. They need to be kept open for emergencies.”
“Mr. Randall, I thought all four of the bridge ladies dropping over in a single night was something of an emergency.”
“Plus, I really don’t think Mrs. Coulson needs to hear this talk. It’s upsetting her.”
Mrs. Parker glanced over at Mary Ellen who was now white as a ghost, her eyes wide. The housekeeper blushed from embarrassment and apologized, before leaving the room to get the rest of the meal.
“Do you think that’s true?” Mary Ellen asked in a whisper. Randall reached over and patted her right hand, giving it a little squeeze.
“I’m afraid it might be. I actually heard a similar story from Sargent O’Malley. His version was slightly different—it was three women, but I do believe the basic story is true.”
“I wish I could help in some way.”
“You just have one job, Mary Ellen, and that is to take care of yourself and our baby.”
“I know, but I feel so helpless.” Mrs. Parker reentered the dining room with the second course of the meal.
Randall failed to tell his wife the full horrors of the epidemic. Fortunately, the estate was moved far enough off the roadway so that it was virtually impossible to see all that had been happening beyond their gates.
Horse drawn carts made their way through the streets of the city collecting corpses. According to O’Malley, over 500 bodies were awaiting burial and it might take over a week before they could be put in the ground. It was impossible to keep up with the demand for coffins.
Just that afternoon, he made a sardonic quip to William that it would be an excellent time to jump into the coffin business. Yet both he and William knew that as much as there was some truth to the jest, it would be impossible to find labor to produce the coffins. The epidemic was having a severe adverse financial impact on Coulson-Hunter Enterprises.
“Over a year ago, had someone told me how quickly things can change, I would have given little thought to such an observation. But it is really quite a profound one.” Mary Ellen said after Mrs. Parker left the room.
“When we were at the theatre last, none of us had an inkling something like this was coming,” Randall added.
“But it isn’t just the influenza. I look back at my life the last year or so, and it has been nothing but radical changes—changes that redirect our paths.”
“Like you marrying me?” Randall asked softly.
“And the fact you and I are talking like this. Before you left for Chicago, we never really talked. You… you frightened me.”
“I don’t now?”
Mary Ellen smiled and said, “A little, perhaps.”
Randall laughed. “I’ve always thought it was a husband’s duty to keep his wife a little afraid.” While he sounded like he was teasing, Mary Ellen knew there was truth in the statement.
“What changed, Randall?”
“What do you mean?” He picked up his wine glass and took a sip.
“You know what I mean,” Mary Ellen said softly.
“I suppose I do.” Randall sat his wine glass on the table and looked at his wife. “I’m trying to be a better husband. I confess, I never really thought that was necessary.”
“Necessary? I really don’t understand.”
Randall didn’t respond immediately, but considered how best to express his thoughts. Finally he spoke.
“In life we all have needs or desires. Let’s say, as an example, I want a new motorcar. There are two available. The cars are exactly the same, and cost the same amount. The only difference, the second seller demands I also give him a little dance along with the payment. Obviously, I buy the first car, where there is no dance required.
“It’s my observation many men do a little dance when procuring a wife—and often they continue to do so after the vows. I never understood that. Once the vows are exchanged, I saw no reason for either party to do more than their basic duties.”
“A husband’s duty is to financially support his wife, and a wife’s is to give him children,” Mary Ellen stated, yet it was really more of a question.
“Exactly!” Randall smiled.
“I still am not clear in why you’ve changed since your return from Chicago. Do you see this all as some sort of frivolous dance?”
“Not any more. It was William, really. He was quite appalled at my lack of effort in getting to know you as a person. William has always been a far better man than me,” Randall said wistfully.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s true. In some ways, I suppose I rely on him to do the right thing—which of course allows me to do whatever I want to. William—he lets me know when I’ve gone too far. Which is what happened here.
“What surprised me was how much I actually enjoy talking with you. I hadn’t expected that. I’ve never really found women to be very interesting.”
“But you don’t love me.” Mary Ellen had no idea why she made the statement. One moment she was thinking it and in the next the words popped out of her mouth.
“No, nor do you love me.” Randall smiled softly.
“And that is okay with you, to have a marriage without love?”
“Since I was a child I saw marriage as a necessary institution, for both the human race and the economy. Love—love isn’t a necessary component for a successful marriage. If one desires love, they might find it in a marriage or outside of it.
“However, I’ve come to realize since returning from Chicago, and making an effort to know you better as a person—that developing a close friendship with your spouse can enrich a marriage. And while I don’t embrace the concept of being in love with my spouse, I now believe it is very possible to love you.”
“Have you ever been in love before?” Mary Ellen was feeling especially brave, since her husband seemed to be in a most talkative mood.
He said nothing for a moment, then looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Yes.”
“You’re still in love with her,” Mary Ellen murmured.
“It really doesn’t matter. We never—will never—have an opportunity to be together in that way. I accepted that long ago and have moved on.”
Mary Ellen almost asked, is that why you no longer come to me at night? Yet she wasn’t that brave and while she enjoyed this new version of her husband, she had no desire for him to come to her bed.
They ate silently for a few moments before Randall started a new conversation.
“William is picking me up in the morning. We’re going back to the factory.”
“I thought you closed it down?”
“We’ve some supplies we’re donating, which we need to get from the storeroom. With the limited manpower, William and I are going to have to do it ourselves.”
“That’s good of you Randall.”
It was William’s idea, he thought, but instead said, “We were going to do it today, but it was getting too late and we just ran out of time.”
Chapter Eighteen
William pressed the heel of his palm against his right eye, trying to push back the discomfort. Clumsily making his way from his parked car to the front door, he was having a difficult time focusing. The pain behind his ears and eyes was excruciating.
The coughing started after he left the plant, and he needed to call Randall. They’d been together all day long, and Randall might be on the verge of coming down with the influenza. According to recent reports, those who were most vulnerable to the ravages of the current epidemic were healthy young adults.
Pushing open his front door, he was surprised to find the entry virtually dark.
“Henry!” he called out, sending himself into a coughing fit. Closing the door behind him he walked toward the hallway, where there was light. Where is Henry?
Staggering down the hallway, looking into the various rooms, he continually called for his butler. The rest of his household staff had left days earlier—all needed elsewhere to care for their family members. Only his butler, Charles Henry remained.
William found him in the kitchen. The butler lay face down on the kitchen floor. Awkwardly dropping to his knees by the butler’s lifeless body, William used all his limited strength to roll Henry onto his back. The man was dead.
With great effort, William stumbled to his feet and made his way back down the hall to his library. He needed to use the telephone.
• • • •
“I thought you would be gone by now,” Mary Ellen asked when she walked into the parlor and found Randall drinking a cup of coffee. It was a few minutes past ten in the morning.
“William was supposed to be here an hour ago. I tried calling him, but no answer. Which is odd. There is always someone there.”
“You used the phone?” She raised a brow.
“I figured this qualifies as an emergency, since we are donating vital supplies.”
/> “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to drive over there. This isn’t like William.”
Mary Ellen thought of the bridge ladies, and a chill went up her spine. She said nothing.
• • • •
Thirty minutes later Randall pulled into William’s drive and noticed his friend’s car parked at a strange angle. It looked as if an inebriated driver had put it there.
Getting from his motorcar, Randall went to the front door and started to knock, but noticed the door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it inward. Immediately assaulted by a rancid odor he quickly donned his medical facemask. Walking toward the source of the smell, he found himself in the kitchen, looking down at the discolored corpse of the butler.
Immediately he started his search for William. Running down the hall he looked into each room until he found his friend, curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the library. Randall rushed to William’s side and immediately dropped next to him. Pulling the ill man into his arms he was relieved to find he was still alive.
“William!” Randall shouted, holding on tight to his old friend.
Wearily William opened his eyes and looked up into Randall’s face.
“Randall…” his voice was barely a whisper. “You need to go. Let me die. Go.”
“Damn it man, you will not die! Do you hear me?”
“You have a family to think of,” William could barely make out the words.
“You’re the only family I ever wanted, and I will be damned I let you die! You will not die!”
William grew still and closed his eyes. Panicked, Randall pressed one ear against William’s chest. He could hear a heartbeat. Although William was a larger man than Randall, Randall managed to drag the sick man over to a couch, where he laid him. After depositing William on the couch, he immediately called for help.
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