by Liz Eagle
Jacqueline was enjoying the idea of spending time with her father. She always assumed he worked for the Department of the Treasury, at least that what was what he told her one time. But it had crossed her mind a time or two that he might have been employed with the FBI or CIA. She had read somewhere that agents or operatives with the CIA are programmed to say they work for another branch of the government like the State Department or Treasury as their cover. She was not sure if her father was on some assignment. If he was, she could not imagine what could have brought the FBI, or the CIA for that matter, to this small town. Despite all, Jacqueline was very happy to have the opportunity to get out of the big city and experience the quiet charm of Warsaw, and, of course, to spend time with her father.
Max showed them to their rooms. Jacqueline unpacked her suitcase and hung her dresses in the closet. She used the water basin in her room to freshen up. A “whore’s bath” her mother used to call it. She used the damp washcloth to wipe off under her arms and under her panties. She made sure to check the hooks on the garter belt holding her stockings in place and checked to see if the seam in the back of her stockings was also straight. That was good enough for now, she thought to herself.
It wasn’t quite time for cocktails, so she decided to venture up the stairs to the cupola in the attic. The view from there was unbelievable, especially this time of year when the leaves on the trees turned vibrant colors of red, orange and yellow. Jacqueline could see over the rooftops of all the houses and, just as Gynnie had stated, all the way to the other side of the valley. This town was perfect, nothing could possibly be wrong at this very moment. She could not wait to show her father this view.
Chapter 3
Fall of 1944, Warsaw, New York
After changing into their dinner clothes, Jacqueline and her father made their way to the front room to join Max and Gynnie for cocktails promptly at 5:30 p.m. “What a lovely place you have here,” Jacqueline said to Max. “I went up to the cupola. It was absolutely breathtaking.”
“Why, thank you, Miss Gaylord.” Max responded. “How about some wine to start off the evening?” he said, pouring a yellow-colored beverage into four crystal wine glasses.
“What type of wine is that?” Jacqueline asked. She had only had white and red wines before, never a wine so bright in color.
“Oh, I apologize,” Max said. “Like I said earlier, Gynnie and I make our own wine. We have perfected the wine-making process in our cellar downstairs.
Gus went over and inspected the yellow-colored wine jar. “You must make quite a profit on wine in this town.”
“Oh, no. We’ve never sold a drop of it. We mostly just give it away to friends and locals, and we also donate some to the local Episcopal Church where we are members. It is served as communion wine on Sundays. This one was made from the dandelions last spring,” Max said. “I hope you like it, but it might not be what you are used to in the big city.”
Before even taking a sip, Mr. Gaylord asked, “Does it taste like dandelions?” He clearly had some trepidation about drinking something that tasted like dandelions, not that he had ever actually tasted the wildflower before. “What do you think, Jacqueline?” her father asked, hoping to elicit her approval so they could get on with drinking the wine.
“Well, I don’t think we should offend our hosts. When in Rome...” Jacqueline replied and accepted a glass from Max. She was very well-educated and an avid reader when she was not working, but she was not really a wine connoisseur.
When everyone had their glasses, Max lifted his up and said in a toast, “To the Warsaw visitors, may you enjoy your stay here.” The glasses clinked. Max returned to the topic at hand as everyone smoked a cigarette and drank their wine. “The inn needs some repairs,” he continued, “but we are the only building in town with an observation site in the attic and it really helps our business. We feel fortunate that the train stops here, and people stay with us on their way to Letchworth State Park or to Buffalo.” He continued, “Gynnie comes from a big family and has relatives who live all over Wyoming County. They have similar-style homes and rent out rooms, so we all talk about how difficult it is to keep up. But no one around has a cupola. Especially not that old town hotel. Not that we need anything special to set us apart from them.”
Gynnie smiled in agreement, took a large sip of her wine and said, “Please excuse me while I return to the kitchen and finish preparing our meal.” She quickly departed, but only after asking Max to refill her glass. Then she walked off to the kitchen, taking her wine with her.
Jacqueline’s father commented after his first sip of the wine, “This wine has a delightful aroma and mild fruity flavor. It is very refreshing and is perfect for a fall day.” They all had two refills before dinner which, since Jacqueline had not eaten since the train earlier this morning, put her in a really relaxed mood. Max chatted on about how wonderful the state park was and encouraged Jacqueline and her father to take a trip there to see the views while they were in the neighborhood.
It wasn’t long before Gynnie called from the dining room, “Dinner is served!”
They put out their cigarettes in the glass ashtray and retreated to a table set for four, covered with a neatly pressed, stark white, linen tablecloth, with all the china and silverware set to perfection. The forks were on the left of the plates, knives and spoons were on the right. This was the only, and proper way to set a table in the McDougal house.
There was a large soup tureen at the end of the table with the top of the ladle showing. Max served the soup, which was the first course, for everyone. Gynnie had fixed homemade potato soup with chunks of potatoes and celery in thick broth.
“This soup is absolutely wonderful,” Jacqueline said. “I really must find the time and learn to cook at some point.” She put her hands in her lap and became uncharacteristically quiet, reflecting on how her show business aspirations had taken her far away from the kitchen and any culinary skills at all.
“Yes, you really should,” her father replied with a sly grin. “A potential husband looks for such qualities in a potential wife.” Mr. Gaylord paused to pat the drips of soup on his lips with the linen napkin. He knew his daughter all too well and was concerned about her lack of interest in housekeeping and cooking skills. He wondered if those had anything to do with the breakup with her fiancé Frank.
“Now, Dad,” Jacqueline responded, “I know you want me to settle down, have children, and stop pursuing my career. I also know you worry too much about me, so just stop. I am perfectly fine.” She took comments like this from her father as a personal affront. Jacqueline knew that his focus on her took away from his precious work. She took another drink of the yellow wine and forced it down, followed by another, hoping it would distract her thinking and help her to relax. After feeling herself get angry at his comment, Jacqueline tried hard to dismiss those thoughts and not respond in polite company. She took another drink to help keep her anger at bay.
“Do you work, Jacqueline?” Gynnie asked trying to defuse the conversation and take the pressure off of their beautiful, young guest.
“Yes, I do,” Jacqueline responded. “I just graduated from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts on Madison Avenue in New York City, and I am doing some modeling and waiting not-so-patiently for my acting career to take off. For now, I pose in designer gowns that appear in the Sunday Times newspaper. I have to stand still and maintain a pose so a sketch artist can draw the gown and then send it to the newspaper to run in ads for new fashions at the most expensive retail stores.” Jacqueline’s tone reflected the confidence she felt. In her mind, she believed she really was the perfect model, but her self-esteem had taken a blow.
“That sounds very exciting,” Gynnie said, looking over at Mr. Gaylord. “I am sure your father is very proud of you.” Jacqueline’s father nodded in agreement.
“I have been to several auditions and casting calls, but nothing yet,” Jacquel
ine said, trying to hide the sadness she was feeling about her life at the moment.
The wine helped her to focus on the positives in her current situation. She had always made a point to dress in style, and her clothing was always neat, though perhaps not as clean as most. Her apartment was, for the most part, neat and tidy, but it could be said that a maid would not have been an unwelcome addition. Jacqueline rationalized that she was a working professional woman and did not have time for such trivial matters. She had to admit that her small apartment-sized refrigerator left a lot to be desired. On a typical day, she might only find moldy leftovers in a bag from a quick meal she had purchased on the run in between studio appointments, casting calls, and auditions. Not much more in there would be edible. In fact, the expiration dates on some of the contents would make them unsafe to consume. The whole thought of learning to cook and cleaning a whole house caused her to take another drink.
“Here we are,” Max said, as he began to serve the main course from his seat at the head of the table. After an enjoyable meal with plenty of interesting conversation, Gynnie began to clear the plates from the table while her husband helped himself to another glass of wine. In the meantime, Gynnie reappeared from the kitchen carrying a silver tray containing a three-layer homemade chocolate cake and four snifters of blackberry brandy.
“Did you also make this wine in the cellar?” Jacqueline asked, gripping the pear-shaped glass with her fingers.
“That is funny you should ask,” Gynnie responded.
“Yes, it is one of our favorite recipes,” Max answered for her. “It is actually blackberry brandy, not wine. Gynnie’s sister came up with the idea and swears that blackberry brandy cures anything that ails you and puts you in a glorious mood. Try it. It goes very well with chocolate cake.” Their host belched loudly, then lifted his glass, smiled, gave his wife a wink and said, “Here’s to ‘how’s your father?’”
Gynnie’s eyes opened wide. She was shocked that Max would repeat that phrase in front of guests. It was very private. She realized then that Max had consumed way too much alcohol. Their special blackberry brandy was the one favorite of Gynnie’s brother and sister-in-law, Phillip’s parents. They drank it when they came over. Max had obviously had too much to drink and he knew better than to say that in polite company, especially in front of paying guests. She secretly hoped that the Gaylords had not been paying attention.
Max served the slices of cake. By this time, Jacqueline was certain she had consumed way too much wine because she thought she heard Max ask, “How’s your father?” but that could not be right. She loved British novels and magazines and was almost certain she had read the phrase before. Jacqueline decided not to ask if what she had heard was correct, as, from what she could recall, its meaning was certainly not something typically discussed at the dinner table. Instead she just shook her head, trying to get that phrase out of her mind. She could not recall the number of glasses of wine she had drunk, and now the brandy was making her feel very lightheaded. That must be it.
After barely touching her cake, Jacqueline placed her napkin on the table and said, “Thank you both for the meal. I loved every bite, but the wine and food, combined with the long train ride and this delightful brandy have left me a little lightheaded. If you will excuse me, I must go to my room...Dad, I will see you in the morning.” Jacqueline pushed back her chair, steadied herself to stand, made her way to her father and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dad,” she said. “I love you.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Mr. Gaylord said, patting her hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well.”
“I apologize for my daughter’s abrupt exit,” he told the McDougals. “She is not much of a drinker. I think that is the most alcohol I have ever seen her consume. I am impressed that she lasted as long as she did.”
“That is fine with us, Mr. Gaylord,” Max said. “Sometimes I don’t think we realize how much wine Gynnie and I drink since it is always around us. Even if we run out, we have our private stock so close in the basement.” He proceeded to lean back in his chair, obviously extending his stomach after consuming so much food.
“Please call me Gus,” their guest said. “Mr. Gaylord sounds like my father.” His name was Augustus Gaylord, but everyone called him Gus.
“Of course, Gus,” Max responded with a smile. “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you and Jacqueline plan to join us for a ride to Letchworth Park tomorrow for a picnic lunch? Because it’s such a lovely park, it is often times referred to as ‘The Grand Canyon of the East.’ I am sure you and Jacqueline would love it.”
Gynnie thought her husband was being too forward making the invitation, but she remained silent. She was just glad he got off the earlier subject and did not repeat that phrase about their sex life.
“Well, that is certainly a very nice invitation,” Gus replied. “I will mention it to Jacqueline in the morning. We don’t have any immediate plans that I can think of, so I will tentatively accept for the both of us. It sounds delightful.” If he went to the park, his investigation would have to wait. He would see what Jacqueline wanted to do.
“Then it is a plan, unless you tell us otherwise in the morning,” Max said. “I will make sure the old Ford is packed and ready. We can discuss it further in the morning.” With that, Gus excused himself and left the dining room to head upstairs for the night.
Max quickly got up from the table and told Gynnie that he had to check on the wine down in the cellar. He did not want to get into an argument with her just because he had blurted out the phrase. He was growing tired of those shenanigans with her brother anyway. It was just too risky in this small town.
Chapter 4
The fall of 1944 Warsaw, New York
In the morning, Max and Gynnie set the table and cooked breakfast for their guests. The delicious aroma of cooked bacon rose to Jacqueline and Gus’s rooms.
“Good morning, Dad,” Jacqueline said cheerfully as she walked past his room and saw the open door.
“Good morning sweetheart,” he replied. “Did you sleep well? You had quite a bit to drink last night. How are you feeling this morning?”
“I am actually feeling good,” Jacqueline said. “The wine apparently helped me to get the best night’s sleep I have ever had. Perhaps I should drink like that all the time.” Realizing what she had just said, Jacqueline quickly changed the subject. “Isn’t this town wonderfully quaint, hidden in a valley like it is? And this house is perfect. Thank you for meeting me here. I have missed seeing you,” Jacqueline said as she put her arms up on his shoulders and gave him a big hug. “We have not had a chance to talk privately since we arrived yesterday. What are you working on now that brings you to Warsaw?”
Gus always got a little nervous when Jacqueline, or anyone for that matter, questioned him about his work. He was not at liberty to discuss his business, and he understood the importance of keeping his cover. His vague stories about work made people assume he was a roaming accountant for the Department of the Treasury, investigating the occasional shady business practice. That seemed to be a good cover for his work and provided a plausible explanation as to why they had moved around so much. For now, he would have to say something, anything to placate her and hope she would drop the subject.
“I have a short assignment here in Warsaw and some business in Attica,” Gus said. “After that, I am going to Buffalo for a few months. I won’t be back to the city for quite a while.” Gus paused, hoping that was enough information to keep her from asking anything further.
“Oh, that is too bad,” Jacqueline responded. “I was hoping to see more of you.” That was all she needed, as she was very much trying to forget about the city and the recent events. “Well, anyway, I feel good enough to take on the world today. What do you want to do? Shop the stores on Main Street, or find a park to take a walk?” she asked with a smile and put a little skip in her step.
Gus was pleasantly
surprised that Jacqueline was feeling so happy. After what she had been through, he thought she would not allow herself to feel any happiness again so soon. Last year, she had taken a real blow. He knew how beautiful his daughter was, and it was a crying shame that she had decided to throw herself into her acting and modeling career, refusing to get involved with another man again. He knew all this had been caused by Mr. Frank Ripley.
Frank and Jacqueline had met in New York City, fallen in love, and married in quite a quick time frame. They had barely even begun their lives together when he was drafted into the Army to fight in World War II.
Frank had been stationed in France, and Jacqueline pined over him, writing him letters every single day. She was totally devoted and faithful to Frank and was filled with excitement at the thought of their future together when he returned. That was, until last year when she received a cable from him requesting an annulment of their marriage.
Jacqueline was devastated when she read his confession that he had fallen in love with a Parisian woman and wanted to marry her. Feeling totally rejected and realizing there was nothing she could do, Jacqueline appeased Frank, paid for their marriage to be annulled, and sent him the legal papers. She had not heard from him since. Truthfully, she had felt so betrayed that she secretly hoped he would be killed in the war.
Gus knew she was embarrassed and ashamed that she, even with her beauty, could not hold onto a man. Her father also knew she was still very hurt from the whole ordeal but would never admit it. He decided not to pursue any further discussion about his desire for her to learn to cook and clean given her delicate state.
“Well, actually Max and Gynnie have invited us to go on a picnic lunch with them at that park they talked about last night,” Gus told his daughter. “I accepted for both of us, but if you would rather do something else, that would be fine as well.”