The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  “It certainly was,” Eleanor called back, noting what was painted on the window of the storefront where he stood: James Vaughn, Attorney at Law. She did a double take and nearly burst into laughter. Looking back to the man, she wondered if that was Jimmy’s father and her…husband.

  He finished his cigarette and smashed it on the brick before placing it in a receptacle by the door for that purpose. “Have a good night!”

  “You do the same.”

  Realizing she was now staring at the closed glass door with wood trim and slanted blinds, she shook herself from her surprise and continued on her short walk home. She’d tossed together some Jell-O salad that morning before work so it could chill in the icebox all day, and it would pair nicely with the tuna casserole she intended to make for dinner.

  Reaching the pharmacy, Eleanor pulled out the key she and the other three tenants had been given to the outside entrance, a door set in the brick wall a few feet to the right of the main entrance into the pharmacy proper. The door hadn’t always been locked, but they began having issues a couple of years ago with a drunkard who mistook the small entryway as a toilet.

  The staircase was narrow, and it had been quite the feat when her furnishings were moved in. She didn’t even want to think about how the appliances got there. She reached the top of the stairs and picked out the key to her door, which was second to the right, just beyond Marvell Walker’s door, the community payphone mounted on the wall between their doors. She could hear his ever-present jazz spinning on his record player. Marvell shared with her that he’d been a jazz musician in Louisiana during the twenties and thirties.

  One day the previous summer, she’d sat on the top step of the narrow staircase with the black man who was old enough to be her father drinking a Coca-Cola, his apartment door open so the music blared out. He’d told her all about his days playing with people he’d met on the road all the while his long dark fingers pantomimed playing the trumpet along with the music.

  He reminded her of Samuel.

  She unlocked her apartment door and let herself in, closing and locking it behind her. It was good to be home as she placed her satchel on the sofa table she passed before shrugging out of her jacket to hang it up in her bedroom closet. She had her own bathroom instead of a coat closet, a much better trade, in her opinion. After years of sharing a bathroom in Canon City, Colorado, and then in Wichita, it was a real treat to have her own. Now, if she could just get her own phone…

  She glanced in the mirror above her dresser, grimacing at the state of her hair. From the breezy walk home, she looked as though she’d just woken up. Turning away, she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to puddle around her feet as she stepped out of her high heels. Next, her nylons were unsnapped from their garters.

  Eleanor nearly moaned as her legs aired out, her toes wiggling against the rug on her bedroom floor. Stripping down to just her bra and panties, she slid on a pair of capris and a top, glad to be comfortable in casual clothes. Slipping into some ballet flats, she made her way back down the short hall to the archway that led to the kitchen.

  She blew out a breath and began to get her dinner together before clicking on the television set. She was looking forward to a quiet night watching some shows, as she knew it would be a rambunctious weekend with Anne at the lake.

  ****

  “Oh, darling! Look at this cabin!” Anne exclaimed, tossing her scarf onto one of the beds. “Absolutely lovely.”

  Eleanor bypassed the furnishings and fireplace to look out the two windows that faced the lake. “Look at those mountains,” she murmured, pulling the heavy green curtains aside.

  “Oh, poo,” Anne said with a dramatic sigh. “Twin beds.” She placed her hands on womanly hips as Eleanor turned from the window to see what the problem was. “How on earth do they expect two grown women to monkey around on two twin beds?”

  Eleanor chuckled, letting the curtains fall back into place as she walked over to the other bed, shrugging out of her jacket. “Well, I think your answer is in the question, sweetheart. They’re not expecting two adult women to monkey around at all, let alone on two twin beds.”

  Anne sighed again, sauntering over to Eleanor. She raised her hands and snaked them around a slender neck, long polished nails running up into the back of Eleanor’s hair, making her shiver. “This is true and terribly short-sighted.”

  Eleanor grinned, moving to pull away from her as she knew they’d have company any minute. “We’ll make do.”

  Not getting the hint, Anne pulled her in tighter, painted lips mere centimeters from her own. “We’ll make more than just ‘do.’”

  “Annie.” Eleanor froze, her hands on Anne’s wrists as she had moved to cup Eleanor’s face. They both turned to look at the door after a solid knock sounded on the other side. “It’s the guy with our luggage and firewood.”

  “No, it’s someone knocking on the wrong door. Ignore it,” Anne insisted, moving in for a kiss.

  “Anne, come on.” Eleanor managed to get away from the woman-turned-octopus and hurried to the door after a second knock, unlatching it before pulling it open. “Hello.”

  “Hello, miss,” the young man said, their luggage in hand and a wheelbarrow full of cut fire logs next to him.

  Eleanor stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He hurried in, setting the two hard-shell suitcases at the foot of one of the beds before hurrying back out to retrieve the wood, two trips of armfuls of logs.

  Eleanor moved back to stand by Anne, who stood closer to her so their hips and shoulders were touching. She felt a bit uneasy about the closeness in front of this man, but she knew what Anne would say: We’re paying good money for this room, so he can deal with it.

  Finished, he went through a well-rehearsed explanation of how to load the fireplace, how to light the fireplace and that by simply asking the operator to connect them to the main cabin, he’d return at any time to help or get a new fire started.

  “Thank you,” Eleanor said, reaching for her purse, which was on the bed. She fished out some coins when she saw him eyeing the two women, suspicion easily seen there, suspicion she’d seen many times over the years. She’d also learned that with a little extra heavy tip they’d be left alone and treated like everyone else.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile, accepting the tip before scurrying from the room.

  “Why on earth did you pay him for a job he’s already being paid to do?” Anne groused once they were alone. Her desire obviously squashed for the moment, she lifted her suitcase to the bed and clicked it open to unpack.

  Eleanor watched her and smirked. “We’re only here for a night, Anne,” she reminded.

  “Yes, but I can’t stand to be wrinkled.” She lifted her dress out where it had been carefully folded. She walked over to the closet where wooden hangers waited to hold the garment for her. After that, she disappeared into the bathroom.

  Left alone, Eleanor rolled her eyes. At times, Anne’s nonstop energy—often negative—was tough to take. She grabbed her own suitcase and brought it up onto the other bed, intending to freshen up before they headed out for dinner.

  “I’m going to shower, darling,” Anne called from the bathroom. “I’d invite you to join me, but this stall is the size of the phone booth outside of my building!”

  Eleanor smiled as she grabbed the outfit she would wear.

  ****

  “Thank you,” Eleanor said softly to the waitress who dropped off their entrees. The pretty young thing smiled and wished for them both to enjoy, then scurried off.

  “You never told me what your mother said in her letter.” Anne glanced up at her from across the table as she unwrapped her flatware from the cloth napkin. “Is she still coming for the holidays?”

  Eleanor nodded. “That’s what she said. She’s actually considering staying in Woodland for a bit, maybe into the spring.”

  Anne’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Eleanor considered the question for a l
ong moment as she cut up her steak before she nodded. “Yes. I’d love to show her around.”

  Anne smirked, reaching for her wine. “Well, that should take all of five minutes.”

  “Yes, well, it’s about four and a half minutes longer than where I grew up.”

  “Is your mother still there? Brookeville or something, right?” Anne asked, holding her wine glass in elegant fingers as she studied Eleanor across the table. “You so rarely tell me anything of personal value, I forget the morsels you toss out,” she quipped. The shimmering candlelight in the holder on the table between them made her eyes look sexy and dangerous, which pretty much described the woman behind them.

  Annoyed at the snide remark, Eleanor decided to let it go. It was true, Eleanor did rarely tell Anne information about her life outside of them or her job, especially when it came to her mother. She was all she had now, and with the scare they’d had with her heart recently—no matter how much her mother tried to brush it off—Eleanor was very protective of that side of her life and her past. “Brooke View.” Eleanor put the small speared bite of meat into her mouth. As she chewed the flavorful morsel, she met Anne’s penetrating gaze. “What?”

  “Why don’t you talk much about your childhood or your parents? You never mention your father. Where is he?”

  “Dead,” Eleanor said simply, her tone flat. Her own gaze dropped back to her plate as she stabbed another piece of cut steak.

  “Of?” Anne pressed, returning her focus to her dinner.

  Eleanor set her fork gently on the plate and looked at Anne again. She knew Anne didn’t understand, and how could she? Even still, this wasn’t a path of memory lane she was willing to traverse. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, just loud enough for Anne to hear. “Forgive me, but this isn’t something I want to talk about, okay? Let’s just enjoy our dinner and head back to the cabin and enjoy that wonderful fire waiting for us.” She gave her as alluring a smile as she could, knowing that the direct way to distracting Anne was through her libido.

  As Anne took care of the bill, Eleanor headed to the ladies’ room. She reached the door, which was opening as a woman was about to step out. She started, obviously surprised by Eleanor’s unexpected presence.

  “Sorry,” the woman said with a little laugh.

  As she watched, the beautiful redhead’s features softened, the lighter tone darkened and the startled eyes that looked back at her gleamed with mischief and love. Eleanor felt her entire demeanor relax as a slow smile curved her lips.

  “Excuse me,” the woman before her said softly. “Miss? Excuse me.”

  The smiling auburn-haired beauty in her mind vanished into the very attractive but annoyed woman trying to leave the bathroom.

  “I’m so sorry,” Eleanor said, stepping aside. The woman gave her a strange look, then hurried away.

  ****

  The cabin was slowly becoming darker as the fire burned down to embers. Eleanor had no desire to build it back up as she knew they’d be warm enough with their joint body heat on the twin beds they’d pushed together. Anne was asleep, her back to Eleanor after a long session of making love.

  She glanced over at the woman whose behind was pressed against her hip as Eleanor lay on her back. She’d enjoyed their time together to be sure, but it had been a conscious effort to keep her focus, her mind constantly wandering off.

  She brought a hand up, the back resting across her forehead as her eyes fell closed.

  Chapter Four

  August 2, 1933

  “Crud,” Eleanor muttered, dropping to her knees as she desperately tried to capture all the beans that had exploded out of the twenty-pound bag she’d moved that obviously had a hole in the burlap that she hadn’t noticed.

  Looking around the dim, dusty wood-plank floor, she saw some that had skittered under the long table she and her father used to unpack crates that arrived with merchandise for the store. There were too many burlap sacks filled with supplies. She knew, however, that what she was looking for was not under that table.

  Using her hands to reach as far as she could, she shoved the pile of spilled beans toward the other makeshift pile before pushing to her feet. She’d have to get the broom, but first, she had to find those darn Buck Rogers Ray Gun stacks.

  The toy section in the store was small, but her father always tried to have popular toys for the local kids, and they couldn’t keep the space guns on the shelf. The mainstays were the ray guns and a few dolls for the girls. They were supposed to be getting some catalogs for customers to order from for the upcoming holiday season soon.

  Bringing a hand up, Eleanor used the back of it to wipe sweaty strands of hair that had fallen free from her bun out of her face. It was hotter than blue blazes in that room, the early August sun beating down on a drought-ridden town. She would do anything to be able to wear one of the beautiful cotton skirts her mother had made for her—hidden in her hiding space under the floorboards with her diary—and a short-sleeved blouse. Her father would never allow it. At least he allowed her to roll up her sleeves when she was out of the sight of customers.

  She walked over to the one window and with a grunt used all her strength to push it up, allowing at least a little fresh air to enter the stale space. The rooms above the stores were used for storage by some store owners while others had set the small, two hundred-square-foot space as homes. The one above her father’s store was filled with crates, burlap sacks, the table, and a hidden countertop with sink and icebox that her mother and she used when they sold specialty food items they canned from what was left from the farm at home.

  Eleanor waved her heavy skirt around her legs for a minute, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her father wasn’t coming up the stairs as she lifted the skirt to her knees to get some air on her legs for a second before dropping the skirt back into place to get back to work.

  She looked around for the broom before rolling her eyes as she remembered she’d left it in the small space at the bottom of the stairs. She’d come up before her father had called her back to carry up the heavy box of receipts he had for the previous month, which he’d go through later that night.

  She quickly unrolled her sleeves and buttoned the cuffs and hurried to the top of the stairs, the clunky leather shoes she wore thudding on the wooden stairs as she trotted down them, slowing as she got closer to the main floor. She slowed further when she heard a voice that was familiar, but she wasn’t quite able to place it. She stopped just before she’d round the wall to the small area where the broom was, so she was still hidden from the store population.

  “It’s so nice to see you again, Mr. Landry!”

  “Uh, well, you’ve got the advantage here, young lady. Do I know you or your father?”

  “I should hope so” was said with a little giggle. “I’m Lysette Landon.”

  Eleanor was surprised by the slight pause and change in her father’s voice from polite curiosity to firm discomfort. She could almost see his tall frame straightening to a ramrod straight pole.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “It’s been quite some time then, Miss Lysette. Did your father need something? I’m certain I sent him the rent—”

  “Oh, no! Not at all. I’m actually here to see Eleanor.”

  Another pause. “And why would that be?”

  Indeed, Eleanor thought. She wondered the same thing as she eased down from the second step to the bottom.

  “I met her yesterday at the school picture. Can you believe we’re in the same class?” Lysette gushed, excitement in her voice. “Well, my friend and I invited her to lunch yesterday afterward, but she told us she had to hurry and get on to work here in this beautiful store. You see, Mr. Landry,” Lysette continued, her voice dropping slightly, almost as though she were about to impart a special secret to him. Eleanor leaned a bit farther toward the edge of the wall. “She told me that, even though she wanted to join us yesterday, she was just too dedicated and committed to the work ethic that you personally instilled in her.”<
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  “She did?” Ed asked, surprise and—could it be—pride in his tone.

  “Absolutely.”

  Eleanor shook her head, a bemused smile on her face as that conversation had never taken place.

  “So since I heard she was working today, I decided to see if she could take a break. That is,” she added, voice contrite, “if it’s okay with you, sir.”

  “Well, I don’t see—”

  Eleanor didn’t even wait for her father to finish his sentence as she nearly flew around the corner to grab the broom, then flew up the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She was out of breath by the time she returned to the little room and desperately tried to calm herself as she swept. She just hoped she looked natural and not like her heart was about to pound out of her chest.

  She took a deep breath when she heard the firm, steady footsteps getting louder and louder until finally Lysette appeared. She looked even more beautiful than she had the day before with that soft, bouncy auburn hair and gorgeous eyes, which were fixated on her. Much like the day before, she was also dressed in an expensive dress, which looked cool and comfortable in peach and orange tones. Silk ribbon was weaved throughout the bottom of the skirt.

  “Hi,” Eleanor said quietly, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the broomstick and holding it in front of her like a shield.

  “Hello, Ellie.” Lysette’s beaming smile erupted into an adorable bout of laughter. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not going to eat you.”

  Eleanor blushed, looking down as she brought a hand up to rub the back of her overheated neck. She wasn’t entirely sure how much of it was from the oven that was the second-floor storage room or how much was from her nervousness of the girl standing less than twenty feet from her. Well, make that ten feet. When she looked up again, Lysette had cut their distance in half.

  “What are you doing?” Lysette asked, looking around. “I always wondered what was up here.”