by Ellery Queen
That’s Grace Finney. Always worrying about whether people got enough to eat. A good person.
“I ate on the plane, but I could have some Danish. Why don’t I make some coffee?”
She followed me into the kitchen, and again I noticed things, like the worn spot on the linoleum in front of the sink and the scars on the table that made it look like it had been through the wars. But I put it all out of my mind so I could tell Grace about Ellen and her family and how well they were doing. She put the Danish down on the table while I filled the kettle and got out the instant coffee.
“Did you read your mail yet?” she asked. “No. I can see you didn’t. Wait a minute.”
And she raced out to the living room where the mail was stacked on the coffee table and came back waving an envelope.
“Wait’ll you see this,” she said. “And there’s nothing we can do about it. Not a damn thing.”
It was unusual for Grace Finney to swear. She prided herself on being a lady and got her hair done every Saturday morning at Gwen’s around the corner. So it must be something really bad.
I looked at the envelope.
“Open it. Open it,” she said.
It hadn’t come through the mail. There was no stamp on it and no address. Only my name, Mrs. Lillian Curry, written out in big black letters.
“We all got one,” she said. “It came right after you left. It’s a shame. A crying shame. Read it.”
I opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I pulled it out and right away across the top I saw: attention all tenants.
“What is this?” I said. “I saw it downstairs but I didn’t stop to read it.”
“Read,” she commanded. “You’ll cry. If I tell you, I’ll get so mad I don’t know what I’ll do. Old Mr. Zukowski in 2D, when he read it, he had a heart attack and he’s still in the hospital. Nobody knows if he’ll ever get out alive.”
So I read. And then I turned the kettle off. And then I sat down on a kitchen chair, the one that wobbled a little. Coming on top of the way I was feeling, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over what the piece of paper said. I guess it’s safe to say I was stunned, because I just sat there with my head going around and the words on the paper getting all blurry when I tried to read it again to make sure it was really true.
What it boiled down to was this. The building had been sold and the new owner was going to tear it down. All the other apartment buildings on the block, too. In place of a lot of rundown little buildings he was going to put up a brand-new giant building with lots more apartments. We all had to get out within two months, because after that all the services would be shut off. We could all come back if we wanted to and get apartments in the new building. At the end they tried to take the curse off it by saying what a great thing it was for the neighborhood and how projects like this would help put an end to urban decay.
Urban decay. Junk. Everything was turning into junk. They wanted to turn us all over to the junk collectors. Buildings, bedroom suites, people, even an old dog wouldn’t be safe. Could they give me a new body, a new life to live in the new building? I could feel words choking in my throat, and I must have made some kind of noise, because Grace was shaking me and bending over to stare in my face.
“Are you all right?” she demanded. “Don’t you go having a heart attack on me. Here, I’ll make the coffee.”
She rattled around and pretty soon a cup of black coffee was on the table beside the Danish.
“Eat,” she said. “It’s from Dubin’s.”
So I ate a bite of Danish and I sipped some coffee. And I have to admit I felt better, but still not clear in my head.
“I’m leaving,” said Grace. “I’m not waiting around while this place turns into a ghost building and the scavengers start breaking the windows and stealing the pipes off the walls. The moving truck is coming in the morning. I found a place out in Queens. The rent is more, but at least it’s clean and they won’t be tearing it down around my ears. You ought to leave, too.”
“But I just got back.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a shock. You need a little time to get used to the idea. But don’t wait too long. You know what happens to empty buildings. It’s not safe.”
“Where is safe? Ellen wants me to go out and live with them. She says it’s safe.”
“She’s a good daughter, Ellen. You ought to go. I wish I had a daughter like that. All I have is that bum, my son, who can’t even hold a job. Forty years old and still trying to figure out what to do with his life. Well, I have to go. I still have a lot of packing to do. I just didn’t want you to be alone when you got the news. You’ll be all right now? Have the rest of the Danish for breakfast.”
I sat there at the table for a while. The coffee got cold and a roach got brave and ran across the drainboard. I didn’t even get up to chase him. I always keep my kitchen spotless, no food lying around, so the roaches won’t come. But they come anyway. You can’t get away from them in these old buildings. Maybe the new building wouldn’t have any roaches. Maybe I could find a place to stay in the neighborhood, a room somewhere nearby, and move into the new building when it gets finished.
That’s what the piece of paper said, that we could all move back in and have nice new apartments. But what about the rent? New apartments don’t come cheap. And what would I do with my furniture in the meantime? How long does it take to build a giant apartment house? A year, two years? Come to think of it, how would my junky old furniture look in a brand-new apartment? Come to think of it, would I live that long?
I shivered. It wasn’t cold, only like the old saying goes, somebody was walking on my grave. Wherever that would be. I’d never thought about that before, but now it came through like a Daily News headline. A place to die. I wouldn’t be looking for a place to live. I’d be looking for a place to die.
It was crazy, but the thought made me feel better. I wrapped the Danish up in plastic and put it in the breadbox. And then I went to polish my shoes. Tomorrow was Monday, and I never went to work on Monday without polishing my shoes.
In the morning I put on a black dress. I know things are different now, but back when I started working in the store we all had to wear black dresses and I never got out of the habit. Sometimes I’ll wear brown or navy blue, but that’s as far as I’ll go. Not like some of the other girls who wear pantsuits in turquoise or lavender. It wouldn’t be right.
I ate the rest of the Danish I had started and had a cup of coffee. There wasn’t much else to eat, and I would have to stop at Waldbaum’s on my way home. There was one Danish left over, so I put it in a bag to take with me for my coffee break. When I left the building, the moving truck was already in front and Grace Finney’s upright piano was standing on the sidewalk. She could only play Chopsticks, but she’d bought it years ago when her boy said he wanted to study music. He’d never even learned Chopsticks, but Grace hung on to the piano and used to let Ellen play whenever she wanted to. I walked away fast. I didn’t want to be late for work on my first morning back from vacation.
The subway station was three blocks away, and as soon as I turned the corner I saw her. I didn’t see her exactly, but I saw her shopping cart parked in its usual place outside the bank, so I knew she was there. I kept on walking fast, and I kept watching the toes of my shiny black shoes going one, two, one, two in front of me. I didn’t look up when I passed her, and I don’t know what made me do it, but I put the bag with the Danish in it on top of the mound of old junk in her shopping cart. I was trembling so bad when I got to the change booth, I could hardly pick up my tokens.
The only thing different about the store when I got there was that they had the new fall merchandise on display. When I had left, they were getting rid of the last of the summer stuff. But Ladies Foundations doesn’t change much from season to season. A girdle is a girdle, even though they keep coming out with new kinds of fabrics and new styles. It felt good to be back, and right away before the opening bell rang I started checking
over the shelves and drawers so I’d know if we were running low on any sizes.
Miss Kramer, the floor manager, came by before I’d gotten very far, and she said, “Good morning, Lillian. Welcome back. Did you have a good vacation? I’d like to see you in my office if you have a few minutes.”
So I said, “Good morning. Thanks. Yes. I’ll come right now.”
I followed her across the floor and into the corridor behind the fitting rooms where her office was, all the way wondering what she wanted to talk to me about. It had been over a year since my last raise, so maybe that was it. I could sure use a raise if I was going to have to find a new apartment. I had a little money saved up, but the way prices were going higher all the time, it was getting harder and harder to save anything.
“Sit down, Lillian,” she said.
So I sat down in the little straight chair in front of her desk and she sat down in the swivel chair behind her desk. She looked at me for a second and then she started flipping through some cards in a metal box. She pulled one out.
“Lillian,” she said, “you’ve been with us for over thirty years.”
“Yes,” I said, feeling proud and smiling a little. It was sure to be a raise. It always started like that; how long you’ve been there and what a good employee you were and how you’ve earned a little extra in your paycheck.
“And you’ve been in Ladies Foundations all that time,” she went on. “You’ve received five letters of commendation from the President, your attendance record is perfect, and your sales record is steady.”
I just nodded and held my breath. I couldn’t say a word. It was coming now. I just wondered how much it would be. My hands were getting clammy and I wished I had brought a handkerchief.
Miss Kramer took a deep breath, bulging out her chest, and looked at the wall behind my head. “Lillian,” she said, “you’re sixty-two years old. Have you thought about how you will spend your retirement years?”
“What!” I said. “No! There’s plenty of time for that.”
“Well, that’s just the point,” she said. “There isn’t plenty of time. We’re cutting back on staff, and we’d like you to take early retirement.”
It was like a knife cutting into my heart, cutting off the blood, cutting off the air to my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I got cold all over. There was a pain somewhere inside that wouldn’t stay still and wouldn’t let go.
I must have scared Miss Kramer. She must have thought I was going to faint or have a stroke or something. She got up out of her chair and ran around her desk and held me by the shoulders.
“Lillian,” she whispered, “are you all right? Do you want to lie down?”
“No,” I said. And I shook myself a little, so she would let go. I couldn’t let her see that I was weak enough to fall off the chair, so I held on to the seat with both hands.
She backed off a little but kept her eyes glued to my face. “Do you understand, Lillian?” she said. “You’ve worked a long time and you’ve been a good employee, but now it’s time for you to take it easy. You’ll get your pension and you’ll always have your discount. And we’ll keep up your medical insurance. We’re not going to throw you out and forget about you. You’ll always be a member of the family.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t go. You can’t make me. What about my regulars? They always ask for me.”
“Lillian, nothing lasts forever. If I were you, I’d be glad to have a chance to rest and do what I want to do. Don’t you have a daughter and grandchildren somewhere out west? Think how glad they would be if you could spend more time with them.”
“No. I don’t want to go out there and be an old lady stuck in a room with nothing to do. I’ve always worked. I’m a good worker. You said so yourself. These young kids, what do they know? Here one day and gone the next. Not me. I’m not going. You can’t make me go. I’ll talk to the President. He knows you can’t run that department without me.”
She sighed and sat back down in her chair. “Lillian,” she said, “don’t make it hard for yourself.” She picked up a sheaf of papers and handed it to me. “Here’s your retirement computation all made out and signed by the President. He’d like to wish you well himself, but he’s out of town this week. Now if you’ll just hand in your identification card, I’ll give you your final paycheck and you’ll be free to pursue a life of leisure.”
“Just like that? Out?” I couldn’t believe it. “You don’t even want me to work today? Out on the street? No place to go? Nothing to do? After I polished my shoes?”
“There’ll be a Christmas party for retirees. You’ll get an invitation. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’re getting ready for Labor Day and you know what that means.”
“You couldn’t let me stay and help out?”
She didn’t answer. Now I really wished I had brought a handkerchief. But I held back the tears and we walked back to my counter. I got out my pocketbook, handed her my I.D. card, and she gave me the check and that was that.
I stood there behind the counter for a minute, but then I started feeling funny, like I didn’t belong which, of course, I didn’t any more. I walked around to the other side of the counter, trying to feel like a customer, but that didn’t feel right either. I wanted to say goodbye to the other girls in the department, but I was afraid that if I did I’d start crying and that wouldn’t do any good. So I just drifted away across the floor as if I was only going to the ladies room or the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.
That was the way to do it—a little bit at a time. I walked around the floor, through Sleepwear and Daywear and Robes, and I saw a lot of familiar faces behind the counters getting ready for business. But I might have been invisible for all the notice they took of me. I guess the word had got around.
By the time I got to the escalators, customers were beginning to spread through the store, so I just went along following this group or that group. All morning I wandered through the store, up and down the escalators, visiting all my favorite departments. But I didn’t buy anything and I didn’t speak to a soul. At lunchtime I ran out to the bank and cashed my check. I couldn’t eat in the employees’ cafeteria any more, but I did the next best thing. I ate in the restaurant on the fifth floor.
In the afternoon I spent a lot of time looking at things that Kathy and Timmy would like. And then I went to Home Furnishings and thought about how I would like my new apartment to look. I stayed there until quitting time.
After I got off the subway, I stopped at Waldbaum’s. I bought a barbecued chicken, some cottage cheese, a head of lettuce, and two tomatoes. The street was full of people going in and out of shops and hurrying home from work. I was hurrying home from work, too, but not so fast that I didn’t notice her. She was in her usual corner by the bank, staring and smirking at the people going by. I stopped, and for the first time I looked right at her. She didn’t like that. She shook her fist at me and growled some words I couldn’t understand.
I said, “Do you want something to eat?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer. I think she was as surprised as I was that I had spoken to her. I pulled the barbecued chicken out of the bag and stooped to lay it in her lap. Getting that close to her was a revelation. She smelled. Well, of course, she did, poor thing. There aren’t any bathtubs on street corners. Then I went home.
The moving truck was gone, and that meant Grace was gone. There really wasn’t anyone else in the building I was on friendly terms with. No mail in the mailbox. Who was there to write to me except once in a while Ellen and once a month Con Edison? The building already seemed deserted. My footsteps made a hollow sound in the lobby and the elevator groaned like it had rheumatism. I wondered how many besides Grace had already moved out. Maybe I was the only one left.
I made a little cottage-cheese salad for my supper and went to bed as soon as I had washed my plate and one fork. Ellen was right about one thing, I wasn’t getting any younger. My black shoes were good and strong and had low heels, but even so, my feet hurt and my
legs ached clear up to my knees from standing up and walking around all day. I fell asleep thinking about the Labor Day sales and how busy we would be at the store.
In the morning I got up and took a shower just like always, put on my black dress and my black shoes that still had a good shine to them, and got ready to go to the store. I always put on a little makeup, not a lot because an old lady with a face full of makeup looks like death warmed over, but just enough to show I cared about my appearance. This morning I took a good hard look at myself. I had gray hair, and so did she. Blue eyes, both of us. My skin, wrinkles and all, was pale and soft with only a few age spots, while hers was coarse and red. Otherwise, we might have been sisters. I wondered if she’d eaten the chicken.
When I left the building, a man was hauling in the garbage cans. He wasn’t the regular super, but I stopped to talk to him anyway.
“Where’s Victor? Is he sick?”
“Who?”
“Victor. The super.”
“Gone. All the supers gone. The whole block. They fired all the supers. Me, I just come around and do the garbage cans. But not for long. Another week or two, then no more. You got garbage, you gotta get rid of it yourself. Better you should get out, lady. You got a place to go, go. It ain’t safe around here no more. Last night they broke in next door and cleaned out the empty apartments. Light fixtures, toilets, it’s a wonder they don’t take the wallpaper off the walls. Damn ripoff artists!”
He sent the garbage cans crashing down into the areaway as if they were the thieves in question. I walked away toward the subway. I certainly didn’t want to be late today, not with Labor Day coming up next weekend. A place to go. I always had a place to go. The store was my place. I would always be safe there.
When I got to the corner by the bank, she was standing up. I think she was waiting for me. I had never seen her on her feet before, and I was surprised to see how tall she was. Somehow I’d always thought of her as bent and stunted, a dwarf, but she was at least as tall as I am, maybe an inch or two taller.