by Box Set
Marlene did fish motions with her lips. “I’m over Sheldon. He’s too old for me anyway.”
“Phonus balonus! You were goofy for him last week!”
“Well, I’m not today, Lolly. Just mind your own potatoes.”
“Fine.” She turned to me. “Let’s hear about—what was his name? Nate?” She winked. “Does he give you good cash?”
Marlene scoffed as she eyed my chumpy dress. “I’m sure the bank’s closed.”
Lolly flushed. “Marlene!”
They were throwing around so much slang, I couldn’t keep up. “What are you guys talking about?”
Lolly eyed me with amusement. “You really have spent too much time on the farm!”
I tried not to look offended or annoyed. I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.
Lolly wasn’t good at reading body language. “C’mon. Spill.”
I didn’t want to talk about Nate, or anything connected to me and my life in the future. “There’s not much to tell,” I said. “Pretty boring really.”
Marlene laughed. “I found him interesting. And he’s a regular Rudolf Valentino, Lolly. I could see that even with his beat-up face.”
“Oh, Casey!” Lolly cried, obviously eager for juicy gossip. “Come on, spill!”
I hedged. The more lies I told, the harder it would be to keep them straight later. I really needed to downplay this. “What do you want to know?”
“How’d ya meet?”
“We met at school.”
“What school do you go to?”
See! This was why I didn’t want to talk about myself. I hadn’t had time to research the 1920s. I was ill-equipped and unprepared!
“Johnson Lancaster?” Lolly supplied.
“Yes,” I said. Why not? I had to make a note that I now attended Johnson Lancaster High School.
Lolly was like a dog with a bone. “And?”
“He plays football. I caught a wayward ball at one of his practices.” Might as well stick to the real story somewhat. “That was when he’d first noticed me. I had noticed him long before that.”
“Oooh. Then he asked you out?”
“Not really. We kind of hung around for a while as friends. And then eventually, we were more.”
“Nice,” Marlene said. “How long have you been an item?”
“A year and a half.”
“That long?” Marlene said. “No wonder you act like he’s old hat.”
“He’s not old hat. We’re just…busy.”
“Did he quit school too?” Lolly asked.
I tilted my head in confusion. “Quit school?”
“Ya, why you need a job?” Lolly turned to explain to Marlene. “She left the family farm to be a modern woman.”
“Right. Yes. No. I mean, I quit, but Nate graduated. He goes to Boston University.”
“I’ve heard good things about that college,” Marlene said. “I’ve thought of going there.”
Oh, man. I had to talk to her about her stocks. But it didn’t look like Lolly was going to leave us alone anytime soon. She continued to pepper me with questions about Nate.
“Does he have a brother? Maybe you could introduce me?”
Nate did in fact have a brother. John was in the army in Canada, but I wasn’t going to get into the complexities of that. I simply said, “No, sorry.”
Lolly punched Marlene playfully in the shoulder. “I guess we gotta go find our own guys, hey?”
Marlene stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “Let’s go shopping.” She walked languidly to the vanity and bent to stare at her image in the mirror. She topped off her lipstick and added another coat of mascara to her already heavily made up eyes.
“Now that you’ve got a fella like Nate,” she said, “I suppose you don’t have to worry about gettin’ dolled up, huh?”
“I like to get ‘dolled up’,” I said, feeling defensive. “I just didn’t have time to put makeup on this morning.”
Marlene waved to the healthy supply of products. “Help yourself.”
I thought it a good idea to try to fit in better and sat in the chair in front of the mirror to take Marlene up on her offer. Lolly jumped in to give me advice, which, I had to say, I appreciated. Girls in the twenties loved their eyeliner and wore it down past the corners of their eyes. Smokey shadows weren’t reserved for the evening and Lolly coached me to put it on thick. I swiped my cheeks with a bit of blush.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Lolly said, grabbing the makeup brush from me. She made two red circles on my cheeks. I almost laughed out loud at the image in the mirror. I looked like a clown.
Shirley had been busy packing this whole time. The pile of clothes in her suitcase was so high, I doubted she’d be able to close it.
“You wanna come shopping, Shirl?” Marlene asked.
“Ah, you kids go ahead. I want to finish up here.”
The sidewalk outside was only wide enough for two, so I fell into third place after Marlene and Lolly. Fine by me. Kept me from having to talk about myself and spin more lies. I just had to find a way to get Marlene alone, convince her to keep her stocks and then trip back.
We visited a few small shops, which were a charming change from their modern mega mall counterparts. Marlene knew the patrons by name, and I had the feeling she gave them a lot of business. I watched as they tried dresses and hats on, and ogled over pearls and bead necklaces.
“Why don’t you try something on, Casey?” Marlene asked. She stared pointedly at my dress which I could see by now must be a few years behind in design. Fact was I didn’t have any money.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I like watching you guys pick out things.”
“She’s low on scratch, remember?” Lolly said. “It’s why she needs a job.”
I got the feeling not many people in their circles were low on money, which made me an oddity. As if I didn’t already have that going for me in spades.
“I have money on the farm,” I said. “I just left so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to grab it.”
“I see,” Marlene said. “Did you have a family quarrel?”
“You could call it that.”
“Her daddy probably wants her to stay on the farm,” Lolly said. She looked at me like a light bulb had just gone off. “He wants you to marry for money, don’t he? Not that dapper college boy of yours, am I right? Someone old and boring, probably. “Oh, Marlene, it’s so romantic. You have to help her!”
It was hard to keep up with Lolly’s imagination, but I didn’t see any reason to set her straight.
“Of course I’ll help her,” Marlene said indignantly. “We’re modern women. We have the right to vote! We won’t marry men we don’t love to suit our fathers.”
I agreed. “We sure won’t!”
Marlene linked her arm with mine as we headed down the busy street. Her tone softened for the first time since I returned. “We’re gonna go get you that job.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Despite Lolly’s talk of being a modern woman, she had to head back to her farm to do afternoon chores. “I promised Pa I’d have the car back by three o’clock, but I’ll come into town on the weekend,” she said. “Marlene, don’t forget about that party you promised to take me to.”
“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’.”
Lolly honked and waved as she pulled away.
Lolly had been the conduit for conversation between us, and an awkward silence descended between Marlene and me. “Come on,” she said, crossing the road. “If we get there early, you might be able to start tonight.”
“Oh.” I followed after her. Marlene wasn’t as tall as me, but all that dancing had made her fit. I had to hustle to keep up.
“Hey, about the night we met,” I said.
“It’s fine. Your fella needed a doctor. No need to apologize again.”
“Yeah, well, he said something to you I think you should ignore.”
She glanced at me with curiosity. “What’s that?”
/> “About selling your stocks. Don’t listen to him. He was delirious. That knock on the head made him crazy.”
“He had a point. What goes up has to come down. The bull market can’t last forever. I’ve got a good nest egg. I’d hate to lose it.”
Oh, man. This wasn’t going well. “But think of how much more you could make if you left it alone. Think about your future.” I hated I had to do this. If she listened to me and my loop here remained unchanged, she’d hate me forever.
Marlene changed the subject by saying, “We’re here.”
I looked around, confused. There wasn’t a restaurant in sight. Then I saw the steps heading down to a basement-level door. I recognized it. It was the speakeasy Sheldon Vance had chased us out of.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.” She waved away my shock. “Don’t worry. Sheldon never comes until after dark, and he never goes into the kitchen. Just don’t take any wooden nickels and you’ll be fine.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Good advice, but a little late in coming.
My very recent memory of dashing out of this every establishment with Sheldon Vance on my heels set my heart racing. Though it was still light outside, the basement room had no windows, and with the dim lighting and lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke, it would be easy to lose the sense of time. The only telling sign was its eerie emptiness.
Marlene strode confidently to a swinging door behind the bar and I followed her into a small dank kitchen area. A large man with a round, bald head and gray hair sprouting from a double chin glanced our way in surprise.
“Hi, Roland,” Marlene said. “I brought you extra kitchen help.”
Marlene spoke with an authority that surprised me. How was it that she could so confidently dictate who would work in Roland’s kitchen?
“Fine,” Roland said after a beat. He went back to work cleaning the fryers.
A slender boy I’d guess to be around fifteen appeared from the back. Instead of the trim barbershop cut most men and boys wore around here, he had shaggy dark hair that fell into his eyes. He stared at his shoes when Marlene introduced us. “This is Paul Junior,” she said. “He’s underage and comes and goes, but Roland feels sorry for him. He’s an immigrant from Europe, but he won’t say where. I’m not even sure if he can speak English.”
“Hi, Paul Junior,” I said. “Would you mind showing me what to do?”
He nodded shyly, then opened a drawer and offered me a clean apron.
“We only serve light meals,” Marlene went on. “Fried kippers and clam chowder and the like, but you’ll be washing a lot of glasses.” She raised a knowing brow. “A lot.”
“It sounds like you’ve done this job before.”
She chortled. “I did. But only for a week. I begged Sheldon to put me on the stage. He balked at my age, but I wore him down until he let me audition. I’ve been on the stage ever since.”
Remembering Lolly’s earlier comments, I asked, “And you were never a couple?”
Marlene’s red lips pulled up into smirk. “Let’s just say, your instincts to run away from Sheldon are good. Now let’s not talk about him anymore.”
Paul Junior was a good guide. And his English was fine, though he did have a strange clip to his speech. He was shy and probably intimidated by Marlene. I wasn’t surprised that he never spoke to her.
He pointed to a drawer. “The silverware is here. I polish the silver as much as I can during the slow times.”
I could see the forks and knives sparkle under the kitchen lights. “Nice work.”
“My father is a silversmith,” he said. “I’m training as his apprentice.”
“When you’re not working here?” I probed.
His face flushed and he returned to staring at his shoes, which I noticed now looked oddly handmade. “True,” he muttered. “When I’m not working here.”
There was a back door in the kitchen that led to an alley and the garbage bins. It was also where the deliveries came, liquor in crates marked “oil” and “vinegar” or other sundry kitchen items.
Roland called for Paul Junior. “One by Land, give me a hand, will ya?”
“Why’d he call you One by Land?”
Paul Junior shrugged. “Sometimes he calls me Two by Sea. I don’t know why, but he thinks it’s clever.”
I frowned at his comments as a strange, uncomfortable and unwelcome awareness dawned. He returned with a heavy wooden box in his arms and grunted as he bent at the knees to lay it on the floor. “Paul Junior,” I said to him, “What’s your last name?”
“You mean my surname?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Revere, miss. I’m Paul Revere Junior.”
Was I staring into the eyes of another traveler? It made sense that there could be more than just Samuel, Adeline and me. If so, Paul Junior’s loop ran from the 1770s to the 1920s. He came from the past, and I came from the future, but either way, neither of us belonged here.
“One if by land, two if by sea.” I ducked to look the shorter boy in the eyes. “It’s a quote made famous by your father.”
His eyes flickered. “You mean my great-great-great grandfather.”
I didn’t want to freak him out, and I didn’t have time to get into what we may have in common. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to tell the truth. And maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he was the great-great-great grandson of Paul Revere.
But…wouldn’t he be aware of that famous quote, then? The only way a Bostonian could get through his first fifteen years of life and not hear that story a billion times is if it hadn’t happened yet for him.
I eyed him suspiciously, but turned to Roland’s gruff voice when he called. “Casey, you’ll be working between the kitchen and the bar. Ask Vivian what to do.”
I reluctantly left Paul Junior and went to the blond woman leaning against the service side of the bar. “Are you Vivian?” I asked. She looked at me as she butted out a cigarette and blew smoke from the side of her mouth. I noticed the room was starting to fill up. A brass band rehearsed on the stage.
“Are ya new kitchen crew?” she asked with a husky voice. I nodded.
“Good. The girls will be here shortly. Make sure the bar is stocked with clean glasses, and pick up dirty ones off the tables. Try to stay out of the customers’ way.”
I assumed “the girls” were the scantily clad waitresses who walked the room with trays of drinks. “I’m here to help,” I said.
Vivian cast me a bored glance then waved to someone across the room. “Darling!” she cried. “You came! So good to see you!”
Chapter Thirty
The later it got, the busier it got. I worked up a sweat running between the kitchen and the bar. Paul Junior reminded me to take off my apron before doing the rounds to clear the tables. I didn’t know exactly how classy I looked in my costume, a 1920s look-alike, and a shiny, red face.
The jazz band was top-notch and when I had a spare moment to enjoy them, I nodded my head and tapped a foot in time. All the musicians were black, I noticed, even though none of the patrons were.
The place was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, well-dressed couples laughing and drinking, blowing smoke into the air. I couldn’t believe the Boston Police Department didn’t know about this place. How could they not see the stream of bodies making their way here after dusk?
Marlene stopped at the bar and lifted a finger to Vivian. Vivian’s eyes twitched at the corners as she poured a drink into a glass and pushed it to Marlene.
“Thanks Vivian,” Marlene said dryly. Vivian turned her back to Marlene before making a dirty face.
Marlene didn’t seem to notice Vivian’s attitude, and if she did, she didn’t seem to care. She took a large swallow of whatever liquor was in her glass and let out a throaty sigh.
Then she asked, “How’s it going back there?”
I glanced back at Paul Junior who stood a
t the door to the kitchen. “Good.”
Marlene walked to the back of the room behind the stage and disappeared. I returned to the kitchen, tied my apron back on, and helped Paul Junior wash up more glasses. He was careful not to catch my eye longer than necessary, and it was too noisy to talk about anything serious anyway. Besides, I never knew when Roland would suddenly appear. He took a lot of smoke breaks in the back alley, watching out for new deliveries.
I ventured back to the main room, just as the dancers lined up on stage, all Caucasian, and I spotted Marlene in the center with the largest feathers sprouting from her headband. I was starting to see how a rich Marlene would be very influential. Only a few years older than me, she was rapidly working her way up the social ladder of this underground society.
When the dancers left the stage, the band returned, and the floor filled with couples doing the Charleston and other types of swing dances. It made me think of Nate and our time together here just a couple days ago.
My heart squeezed tightly with remorse. If only I hadn’t gone to Hollywood and kissed the nearest boy in a fit of childish anger. If I’d only stayed calm and trusted Nate, none of this would’ve happened. I had to fix things. Fix the timeline. Fix what was broken between Nate and me.
The dancers ended their set to loud hooting and applause. Marlene soaked up the attention with her arms stretched out into the air, a bare knee bent in and lips coated in dark red spread into a bright smile. A short while later, she approached the bar, changed from her dance suit and dressed in a fabulous, sparkly and expensive flapper dress.
“Hey, Casey,” she said loudly through the noise.
“Great routine,” I shouted back.
“Thanks. It was fun.”
“Looked it. By the way, thanks again for the job.”
“It’s nifty. My sister left for New York, so you can have her bed if you want for tonight.”
I smiled with relief. “That would be great.”