1929

by M. L. Gardner

  December 30th 1929

  The following Monday, Arianna went downstairs and knocked on Shannon’s door. She opened it with a smile and invited Arianna in.

  “What’s the occasion, Arianna?”

  “Well, Shannon, several weeks ago you offered to help teach us things that we never had to do until we came here. Ava and Claire have caught on pretty well, but I was wondering if you would help me. I promise to pay attention this time.”

  “Why, I’d love to. What is it that yer havin’ a hard time with?”

  “Well, laundry, cleaning in general, cooking, making bread . . . um, everything, really.”

  Shannon suppressed a laugh.

  “Why don’t we just start at the beginning?” Shannon suggested. “I’m gettin’ ready to start some bread and then some laundry. You can help me a bit, then we'll go up to yer place, and I’ll help you a bit. You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry.”

  Arianna smiled gratefully and turned to the bedroom when she heard a baby’s cry. “That’s Roan, up from his nap. I'll just go get him and then make us some tea.”

  She emerged a moment later with a tiny bundle and laid him on the couch to change his diaper.

  “How old is it?” Arianna asked over Roan’s wailing.

  “He’s three months now,” she replied as she quickly changed him out of the wet diaper and rolled it up. “Would you do me a favor and put this out on the fire escape? There’s a bucket, just drop it in.”

  Arianna hesitated, took it between her finger and thumb, and ran it over to the window. “That’s a lot of stink for something so small,” she commented as she tossed it out into the bucket.

  Roan settled down, and Arianna watched Shannon as she slipped off the cotton sleeper and slipped another clean, dry one on with hardly any effort.

  “Can I see it?” Arianna asked, sitting down on the couch by the baby’s head.

  “See what?”

  “The . . . your . . . it,” Arianna stammered, pointing to the baby.

  “His name is Roan, and yes, you can see him.”

  She swaddled him quickly and scooped him up. Holding him out to Arianna, she could tell she had no idea how to hold a baby. She positioned her arms and then put Roan in them.

  “I guess I better practice this, too,” Arianna said aloud to herself.

  “Are you expectin’?” Shannon asked in a neutral tone, knowing if she was, it would be a bittersweet event. It always was in neighborhoods like this.

  “June.”

  “Well, feel free to come down here and practice to your heart’s content. I might take advantage, though, and sneak a nap while you’re here learnin’,” she teased. She went to put on tea and left Arianna on the couch holding Roan. He started fussing and flailing, and Arianna looked over at Shannon with panic.

  “Just rock him a bit,” Shannon called out from the kitchen.

  Arianna started a rocking, bouncing combination, and he quieted quickly. “Hey, that worked!” she called out to Shannon and looked back down at Roan. His mouth was drawn in a tight line; his face was turning blood red.

  After a moment, it became obvious that he wasn’t breathing, and Arianna screamed for Shannon. She flew over just in time for the foul odor to reach Arianna’s nose.

  “What is that?” she yelled.

  “He was just finishin’ his poo.”

  Arianna coughed and gagged, shoving the baby back toward Shannon.

  “He wet on me!” she cried.

  “They tend to do that. Don’t worry, I'll get you a cloth for your dress. It don’t seem to stink so bad when it's yer own.”

  “I think I’ve had enough baby practice for one day. Can we move on to bread now, please?”

  ∞∞∞

  “I invited everyone over for New Year’s Eve,” Jonathan told Ava over dinner.

  “You did?”

  “We’re always together for New Year’s, so why should this year be any different?”

  “Well, okay. I just didn’t think you would feel like having a party is all.”

  “It won’t be a huge deal, but we’ll all be together. Caleb wants to have a Charleston contest,” he said and grinned.

  “Oh, no,” Ava moaned. “They always win! What’s the point?”

  “I know. But it’ll be a good time.”

  “I guess I can make something,” she offered.

  “How about those fried potato things Shannon made for dinner?”

  “Sure,” she said, surprised he even remembered.

  “This weekend we should walk down and look at different shades of paint for the new place. We can’t take any of this stuff with us, not that I would want to, except the mattress. That’s coming with us. But we’ll need to look at buying some more furniture,” he said with a hint of excitement.

  “That sounds like fun,” she said and smiled.

  “We’ll window shop away the months of January and February. It’ll make it go faster and give us something to look forward to,” he suggested.

  Over the last several days, things had slowly gotten back to what Ava considered normal. Jonathan smiled more and when they sat on the couch after dinner, they talked about many things; he had spent very little time staring silently at the fire.

  “Where are we?” he asked unexpectedly, nodding at the calendar.

  “Next week,” she answered casually. Inside, she was ecstatic that he was wondering. It was cruel in her opinion that their reconciliation happened so far from the safe week.

  “Think we can make it?” he taunted.

  She looked up to see the teasing eyes and devious smile that she hadn’t seen in months, and her heart fluttered lightly in her chest.

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” she said, breaking away from his sultry stare.

  “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to happen, would it?”

  “Would what?” she asked, concentrating on her food.

  “A baby.”

  “Whoa! Hold on.” She looked up at him, taken aback. “What on earth are you talking about, Jon?”

  “I’m just saying that, if it were to happen, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, that’s all.”

  “Jon,” she said seriously. “We can’t. You know that.”

  “I’m just worried that Caleb’s going to get a decent head start on us, and then his kid will grow up thinking he’s the ringleader of the next generation.” He smirked.

  “Oh. And that’s coming from the ringleader of the current one,” Ava chided.

  “I’m not the ringleader,” he denied with a smile. “I’m just the oldest. They looked up to me when we were kids.”

  “You’re the oldest by six months. And they still look up to you.”

  “I don’t know about that, but nice try on changing the subject.”

  “I didn’t change anything. You know we can’t take any risks right now, Jon.”

  “Caleb and Arianna are managing. It would work out for us, too. Especially with the new building.”

  She answered him by shaking her head with a stern look.

  “Well, I didn’t want to have to resort to this.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “Resort to what?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Seduction,” he replied nonchalantly and she laughed aloud.

  “Tempting as that would be, sir, the reward is not worth the risk.”

  “I’ll take that as a wager,” he said, grinned and ran his eyes over her.

  “Don’t even think about it, Jon. This is so unfair.” She was visibly flustered now. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Why not?” he said and grinned sinfully.

  “We’re going to talk about something else,” she said firmly.

  “Okay. What shall we talk about? Your choice.”

  “I think I’d like yellow paint in the kitchen,” she said, after thinking about it for a moment. “And maybe we can use part-wallpaper and part-paint in the living room.”

  “Oka
y. We can do that. What color do you want to paint the bedroom?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Jon, I said we weren’t going to talk about it anymore.”

  “I’m not talking about it! I am talking about paint. You, however, are obviously thinking of something else.”

  “No. I am not!” she insisted.

  “Okay, love. Whatever you say. Listen, I have to run up to Aryl’s. We need to do an official cash count and fine tune a budget. I shouldn’t be too long. Do you want to come along?”

  “No. I think I’ll stay here.” She was entirely frustrated and needed to put a little distance between them.

  “Suit yourself,” he said as he walked around the table. “Can I have a kiss goodbye?” he asked.

  “That depends,” she said.

  “On what,” he asked with a laugh.

  “On whether you’re going to play fair,” she said, crossing her legs and arms before looking up at him.

  “Ava, I promise . . .” He leaned over, lingering a fraction of an inch from her lips. “I have no intentions of playing fair,” he whispered and gave a light peck on her lips.

  ∞∞∞

  Aryl answered the door on the third knock, and when he did, Jonathan looked him up and down, amused. His shirt was unbuttoned, his belt hanging open and his hair a mess.

  “I need to cancel that meeting, Jon, can we do it tomorrow night?” he asked slightly out of breath.

  “Sure. Why would you even plan a meeting if it’s your week?

  “That’s the thing. It’s not my week,” Aryl whispered.

  “Oh, great. Not you, too. Now my kid’s gonna be the youngest,” he said, exasperated. “He’s gonna get picked on like Caleb.”

  “No, no kid, not yet anyway.”

  Jonathan looked at him, confused. Aryl looked back when Claire called for him. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he stepped into the hall, pulling the door behind him.

  “Arianna loaned Claire her book,” Aryl said with a huge smile.

  “You mean the book?”

  “Yes, the book from Paris. So, I gotta go,” he said, ducking back into his apartment.

  “Hold on.” Jonathan grabbed his shirt. “You have to help me out,” he said insistently. “Have Claire give the book to Ava the next time we get together for cards.”

  “All right. But I’m going to let you in on a little secret. They knew about this stuff all along,” Aryl said, grinning.

  “Then why didn’t they ever say anything? Why have we all been suffering?”

  “Oh, all that prim, proper society-hooey. According to Claire, who would kill me if she knew I was telling you this, decent women pretend to not know of such things and would never suggest them.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m beginning to see why Arianna loved Paris so much,” Jon said.

  “And why Caleb is rarely in a bad mood,” Aryl added with a smirk.

  “Okay. The girls can get together over here while we have our card game. I’ll let Ava pretend like this is all new and keep up her proper appearances,” Jonathan said, already scheming.

  “Okay. I really gotta go.” Aryl slammed the door before Jonathan could say anything else.

  ∞∞∞

  “Well, that was fast,” Ava said as Jonathan walked through the door.

  “Aryl couldn’t meet tonight. Something came up,” he said and grinned. “We’re going to meet tomorrow night instead.”

  “Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve,” she reminded him.

  “That’s right. Well, I guess we’ll have the meeting here.”

  “Would you like some tea?” she called from the kitchen.

  “Yes, please.” He picked out a book and even though he had read it a half-dozen times, started it again.

  She sat down on the other end of the couch with a magazine that the women had bought together a few weeks ago and shared.

  “How many times have you read that magazine?” he asked, eying her over the top of his book.

  “Five. How many times have you read that book?”

  “Six.”

  “Aren't you tired of it?” she asked.

  “Sort of. Are you?”

  “Yes,” she huffed.

  “Well, we should definitely try to get you something else to read besides that old magazine,” he said and grinned behind his book.

  January 1st 1930

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Drayton, and Happy New Year. Please come in.” Victor took his coat off and folded it over his arm before sitting. “How can I help you today, sir?”

  “I’d like to review the insurance policies for my properties. And possibly adjust the coverage.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  He opened a cabinet and found Victor’s file. “Here we are. Now which properties were you interested in reviewing?”

  Victor answered him by holding out his hand for the file. The agent handed it over hesitantly.

  “Is there something I can help you find, Mr. Drayton?”

  “No, I’m perfectly capable,” he said, flipping through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. “Here it is.” Victor held out the paper. “I’m concerned about this property. I’d like to increase the coverage.”

  “Well, we can certainly do that for you. Do you have any particular concerns?”

  “Yes. Fire. A few tenants there are careless with their fireplaces,” he explained with a smile.

  “I see. We can increase the policy to cover loss of the building due to fire.”

  “What if there was only partial damage?” Victor proposed.

  “Well.” The agent eyed him suspiciously now. “We would compensate according to the extent of the damage and the estimate to repair.”

  “Very well. I’d like to increase that protection as much as possible.”

  “Certainly, sir. I do have to inform you that there is a sixty-day grace period for policy changes of this nature. Just a preventative measure to protect against arson, you understand. Especially in times like these.”

  “Of course. I understand completely,” he said and smiled, hiding his disappointment well.

  “Then I will be happy to make these changes for you and have the updated policy sent to your house by courier.”

  Victor held his frustration until safely inside his car.

  “Everything work out, sir?” his driver asked as he pulled into traffic.

  “No. Not yet,” he snapped.

  ∞∞∞

  One week into January, just after dinner, the building lost heat again and with subzero temperatures outside, it didn’t take long for Jonathan to notice. He checked the thermostat as he pulled on a second sweater, and they watched it fall for over an hour. When it registered forty degrees, they were full on shivering, and he got an idea.

  “Tack a blanket at the kitchen and close the bedroom door,” he told Ava. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get the others.”

  Once everyone was inside, they put towels at the windows and base of the door and added a heap of wood to the fire until it was burning intensely.

  “Good idea, Jon,” Aryl said, smiling. “I would have just pitched another tent and suffered smoke inhalation again. But we wouldn’t have had enough wood to last the night by ourselves, that’s for sure.”

  They made pallets across the length of the living room floor, and snuggled under piles of blankets, fully clothed in layers and still shivering. The only light came from the bright, glowing fireplace. Jonathan kept the fire roaring, and the room slowly warmed to a livable temperature.

  “We haven’t had a camp out in a long time,” Caleb said from under the blankets.

  Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, about twenty years.”

  “Hey, remember when we rowed across the way and camped on Thacher Island?” Aryl asked.

  “No,” Jonathan said.

  “I remember, but you weren’t there for that one, Jon.” Caleb said. “And that’s pr
obably good because we got in so much trouble when we came home on Sunday.”

  “I remember the trouble,” Jonathan said, poking his head out from under the blankets. “That was one trip when I was grateful to have to work for my old man.”

  “How’d you get in trouble?” Arianna asked.

  “Well, we told our parents we were going to go camping on the beach. We were what–twelve, thirteen? There was one spot we always camped at as kids but this time, we decided to borrow a boat and row over to Thacher Island to camp there. Only we didn’t tell anyone.”

  Caleb continued, “Aryl’s mom hiked down the beach to our usual spot just before dark to bring us some food and couldn’t find us. His dad found his boat was missing, and they had the whole town looking for us. We sort of forgot to ask him if we could borrow it.”

  “Since he would have said hell no,” Aryl said. “All weekend, they figured we took the boat and got into trouble out on the water. They had search parties out for us and everything. Thought something really bad happened.”

  “I remember that part. I was helping in the search for you two. Had me scared to death,” Jonathan added.

  “Well, Sunday afternoon, we row home unaware of what had been going on and found the whole damn town down at the dock, all over the beach, and out in boats,” Caleb finished.

  “I think your dad started beating you before you were even out of the boat,” Aryl said.

  “Yeah. Some welcome home that was.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I got whooped, too,” Aryl said. “Just not as bad.”

  “That was the last camping trip we ever took as kids,” Caleb explained.

  “Why weren’t you with them?” Ava asked Jonathan.

  “I had to work.”

  “Work? You were twelve.”

  “Yeah, but as far as my dad was concerned, I couldn’t start learning early enough.”

  “How old were you when you started working for him?”

  “Eight. By fifteen, I was doing the work of an accountant and learning business taxation on the side,” Jonathan said quietly and leaning on one elbow, pulled the covers up higher around Ava, tucking them in around her back and shoulder as she moved onto her side to face him.