Another Angel of Love

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  There was nervous laughter around the table at this.

  “But how do you feel about it, Julean?” Henry asked again, looking straight into Julean’s eyes.

  An uncomfortable silence fell in the kitchen. Mary cleared her throat and said, “Well, we best let Julean eat her dinner. We’ve kept her talking so much she’s barely had a chance to touch it.”

  “Everything’s delicious, Mrs. Pederson,” Julean complimented, trying to ease the tension.

  Picking up on his wife’s cue to change the subject, Bill turned to Mr. Engelmann, “So the sale of the store is now complete David?”

  “Yes.”

  But Henry was no longer listening, his mind transfixed on the last question he’d asked Julean. What would it be like if he could be married to both Julean and Jenny?

  “Good evening, Miss Sarsky, welcome to the Hamilton residence.”

  Jenny was surprised the butler knew her name.

  “Hi…um, good evening to you too.”

  “Good evening, James. May I help you with your coat?”

  “No, I’m fine, but Jennifer may require assistance.”

  Jenny already had her coat off and handed it to the butler.

  “Mrs. Hamilton is waiting for you in the living room.”

  “Is Father home yet, Andrew?”

  “I don’t believe he is as of yet, James.”

  As Jenny and James walked through the huge foyer, James’ mother appeared at the living room entrance. She was a very attractive, petite lady. Her hair was a silvery white, straight and short, and yet gave her a sophisticated appearance. Jenny loved her black dress. It looked formal at first glance, but the style and cut was casual. She smiled broadly as she approached Jenny.

  “Why hello, Marjorie! It’s so nice to finally meet you. James has spoken of you so often.”

  Jenny didn’t know how to respond. Should she correct Mrs. Hamilton about her name or not? James knew she preferred to be called Jenny. She wished he had relayed this to his mother so she wouldn’t be in this awkward position. Extending her hand, Jenny decided to let it slide.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Mrs. Hamilton took Jenny’s hand in hers. “Come, let’s sit in the living room. Jim isn’t home yet. He had some business to complete but promised he would be home shortly.”

  Uh-oh, like father like son.

  The elegant living room was very spacious, with two sofas and a large glass-topped coffee table in between, all of it set in front of a stone fireplace complete with roaring flames.

  “Oh my, what a beautiful room,” Jenny said, looking around. “And I love the fire, it’s so cozy and warm.”

  Mrs. Hamilton led her to one of the sofas. James followed and sat next to Jenny. Mrs. Hamilton sat opposite.

  “James tells me you’re in Grade 12, Marjorie, and that you’re involved in many activities and clubs, and even have time to be on the student council.”

  “I am a bit over-involved in extracurricular activities, if the truth be known. I’m thinking of dropping out of Hamlet, a school play I’m in, though I do enjoy acting very much.”

  The butler appeared in the living room.

  “Shall I bring any refreshments, ma’am?”

  “Yes, Andrew, that would be nice. What would like Marjorie? The chef has prepared a delightful fruit punch, or would you rather have a soft dr—?”

  “You can have wine,” James interjected, “A sauvignon, perhaps?”

  “Actually, the punch sounds lovely, James.”

  “And the usual port for you, James?”

  “Yes, the Bordeaux will do.”

  “Very well, sir. And for you, ma’am?”

  “The fruit punch is fine, Andrew.”

  Jenny was shocked that James was allowed to drink alcohol at home. In fact, quite uncharacteristically, she was at a loss as to what to say to James’ mother. She was relieved when Mrs. Hamilton got up and excused herself to call James’ father.

  James and Jenny exchanged conversation about how big the house was and the deal his dad was closing. Apparently it was quite a coup. When Mrs. Hamilton finally returned, she explained that Mr. Hamilton would be detained longer than expected and that dinner was ready.

  The dining room was adjacent to the living room. It was huge. Two chandeliers hung above a long table which could easily seat thirty people. The plates and cutlery were set at one end of it. Jenny stifled a giggle thinking about how loud she’d have to yell if their places had been set at opposite ends. It was all very fancy; crystal glassware and shiny silverware, framing gleaming white bone china plates. Two butlers stood stiffly at the far end of the table. As soon as Jenny was seated one of them stepped forward and placed the napkin on her lap. Another butler did the same for Mrs. Hamilton. James did his own.

  “Would you care for some wine with your meal?”

  Jenny didn’t know quite how to respond. On occasion she drank wine at the dinner table with her parents. “Yes, that would be nice,” she replied.

  “Is there a preference between—”

  James spoke, “Marjorie would prefer a sweeter wine, I’m sure. Check with André whether we have a sparkling wine— the Portugal Espumante or the Italian Franciacorta.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jenny recalled her mother’s long-ago advice: when the meal is more than one course, it’s best to start with the cutlery furthest away from the plate and move in with each course served.

  “So, tell us about your family, Marjorie. Are you an only child?”

  “I’m sure I told you she was, Mother.”

  “Oh, perhaps you have, dear. And what does your father do?”

  “He’s the president of a company called Mackurcher and Company. They’re involved in—”

  A butler set a bowl of traditional vegetable soup before Jenny.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yes, we are quite familiar with the company; Jim has mentioned it several times. It’s across Canada and now considering expansion abroad, I understand.”

  “Yes, it might be, I’m not cer—”

  The butler took away the soup and replaced it with a green salad with a side dish of dressing.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s not necessary to thank him,” James said.

  “What about your mother, Marjorie, is she employed?”

  “No, she doesn’t work. Well, not in the sense you mean. She looks after the estate since she doesn’t want any domestic help, although we’re entitled to have some. Oh my, that’s a delicious salad dressing.”

  “I enjoy it too. I believe it’s an egg mayonnaise dressing the chef makes up.”

  Jenny didn’t know why she was suddenly caught up in this wealthy lifestyle. She felt very uncomfortable, yet enjoyed the pampering at the same time.

  “Ah, here comes the main course. I asked the chef to make your favourite meal.”

  Jenny looked at the dish before her. Poached salmon fillet served with what looked like leeks and sautéed potatoes in a rich cream sauce.

  “Oh, this looks scrumptious, James.”

  “So do you plan to work in your father’s company?” continued Mrs. Hamilton relentlessly.

  “Oh, no! I plan to be a school librarian. I just love books.”

  “Before I married Mr. Hamilton, I too got my degree in education. I was planning to teach English but once married, I never had the opportunity to teach in the classroom. Probably just as well—I don’t know if I would have had the authoritative presence to maintain discipline with high school students.”

  “They can be a challenge,” Jenny replied.

  “I wish Father would come home, I’m anxious to learn how the negotiations went.”

  “Yes, it is getting late, isn’t it? This is the third time this week
Jim has worked overtime.”

  “Well, it does take a lot of planning and meetings, Mother.”

  “I suppose so. Marjorie, are you enjoying the meal so far?”

  “Yes, it’s delicious, but I’m afraid I don’t think I can finish.”

  “Save some room for dessert: French apple and cinnamon pie with fresh cream. It’s to die for.”

  “That does sound good. Perhaps just a small serving?”

  After the meal, they retired to the living room for tea and Belgian chocolate wafers. By nine-thirty Mr. Hamilton still had not returned, and so James said he would take Jenny home. Perhaps she could meet his father on some other occasion.

  As James was driving out of the estate a car approached.

  “That’s probably Father’s limo.”

  As the cars passed one another they slowed and stopped.

  Mr. Hamilton was in the back seat.

  “Hello, James. Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier.”

  “I understand, Dad. This is Marjorie, Jennifer Sarsky.”

  “Hello, young lady. I apologize for not sharing dinner with you. James speaks of you often and I was so looking forward to chatting with you. Perhaps we can have you over again in the near future?”

  “Yes, I’d like that, Mr. Hamilton. Nice meeting you.”

  James rolled up the window and drove on.

  “That’s some deal Dad’s putting together; it could net the company over $12 million in revenue in the next two years.”

  Jenny wasn’t sure how to react or respond to a number like that. She was overwhelmed by the entire evening.

  Butlers, even!

  Later, when she shared the evening’s events with her mother, Edith was thrilled.

  “But they kept calling me Marjorie all night. James knows I prefer Jenny.”

  “Well, Marjorie does sound more sophisticated. Oh you’ll get used to it, Jenny. James is such a fine young man; soon you’ll be high society!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Christmas came and went. Even before Mr. Engelmann opened the store on January second at nine o’clock, two people were there waiting to open their envelopes, wanting to know what prize they could claim. It was a pleasure to see many of the seniors as excited as children opening birthday presents when they tore into the envelopes. And as Henry had expected, when people came in to claim their gift, they left with many other items.

  By the end of the day, almost fifty people had come into the store. Mary, Mrs. Schmidt and Mr. Engelmann were run off their feet. It was the busiest day in January that Mr. Engelmann had ever had. There was only one other day, Mr. Engelmann recalled, that was almost as busy. It was in 1949 when a chinook passed through. The snow had melted and it was like a spring day. People ventured out to enjoy the weather and decided to shop.

  This time, however, there was no chinook. People were coming out in 25-degrees-below-zero weather, motivated a little by the letter, but mostly because of their love for Mr. Engelmann. They wanted to show their appreciation for the service he had provided to the neighbourhood. By the end of the day, Mary and Mrs. Schmidt had restocked most of the shelves at least twice. Mr. Engelmann was concerned he would soon run out of stock.

  “This idea of yours, Henry, will run me out of business!” he would joke in the days that followed.

  By the end of January, over half of the 658 letters were returned and some of Mr. Engelmann’s shelves were completely empty. It was looking more and more like a store soon to go out of business. It also looked like they wouldn’t have to put much on sale. Mr. Engelmann was also encouraging his customers to get from Safeway what he couldn’t supply anymore. When Safeway heard about that, the manager phoned Mr. Engelmann and thanked him for his professionalism.

  Mary was rushing to get the household chores done; she had a busy day in store. She wanted to check in on Mr. Engelmann to see if his apartment needed tidying and then do some shopping at Eaton’s before meeting Bill for dinner and then going off to a movie at the Broadway.

  While she ironed Henry’s shirts, her mind wandered over his plan to go to Ottawa. Had he changed his mind since his relationship with Julean had become more serious these past few months? Where was his heart now?

  As she put Henry’s clothes away, she glanced at the closed desk drawer. She didn’t like snooping but she rationalized it was out of motherly concern. She hoped and prayed that the drawer would be empty as she pulled it open. And it was clear some significant activity had taken place. Over half the money was gone and sticking out from one of the envelopes were two tca tickets.

  He was going through with it after all.

  Mary took the envelope out of the drawer. She examined the tickets. One ticket was stamped “July 2” and the return ticket was stamped “July 7.” She took out the sheet of paper, unfolded it and studied his plan. He had added the names and telephone numbers of high schools in Ottawa and their addresses. Presumably, if he couldn’t get the information by phone, he planned to visit each school. But perhaps he didn’t need to. All the schools were crossed out except for one, Springview High. It was circled and a note written beside it; Jenny’s high school followed by several exclamation marks.

  At the top of the page, Henry had written: Marriot Hotel reservation, July 2-6, confirmed, $56/night.

  How had Henry kept it a secret from everyone all this time? He should know by now it was impossible to keep a secret from a mother. Mary smiled, feeling only a tiny twinge of guilt. Well, he can’t keep it a secret forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to tell them. He couldn’t vanish for a week and not tell anyone. Mary prayed it would work out for him. It had been in the works for so long that maybe not even the love he felt for Julean was strong enough to deter him from his mission.

  As Mary was about to fold the letter, she noticed Henry had drawn the shape of a heart with an arrow through it near the bottom left of the page. Inside the heart he had printed: “H loves J.” But who was the J? Was it Jenny or Julean…or both?

  Mary tucked the folded page back into the envelope and carefully returned it to the drawer exactly how she’d found it. Once again, as Mary left Henry’s room, she hesitated for just a moment, sending off a prayer to the crucifix above the bedroom door.

  Geez, I hope I don’t get caught. This is the third time I’ve played hooky from school to make these phone calls.

  Henry knew his mom was off shopping today and later she and Dad were going to see Anatomy of a Murder at the Broadway. It was the perfect chance to carry out his plans. He would phone Springview High again and pretend to be an employee for a magazine company. He remembered that Jenny had subscribed to Seventeen magazine and often saw her reading it on the steps when he called on her. He’d say that a Jenny Sarsky had applied for a subscription but forgot to put her telephone number on the form.

  If that failed, he would phone Mackurcher and Co. and ask to speak with Mr. Sarsky and ask him outright for Jenny’s phone number. Henry was prepared to argue with Mr. Sarsky; that it was his right to speak to Jenny…well, don’t jump to conclusions, maybe you’ll get the phone number right off.

  He felt prompted to call Mr. Sarsky first.

  Henry dialed the number. His fingers trembled in the circular plastic holes. This would be a man-to-man talk. He had to show Mr. Sarsky he was determined to get Jenny’s number one way or another. He was not going to take no for an answer and would threaten to come to Ottawa this very weekend if he didn’t get the number…

  “Mackurcher and Company, how may I help you?”

  Henry lowered his voice and tried to speak as officiously as possible.

  “Is Mr. Sarsky in, please?”

  “I’m sorry, he’s at a conference today. Is there anything I can do or a message I can leave for him?”

  Henry’s brain swirled; perhaps there’s another way. He remembered Jenny telling him that she’d been born i
n Kelowna, British Columbia—and then his Uncle George who lived in Vancouver popped into his mind.

  “Yes, it’s George Snyder, here. We’re relatives from Kelowna on our way to the East coast and wanted to speak to Ted or Edith before we left Ottawa. We can’t find their phone number in the phone book…”

  “No, their home number is unlisted.”

  “I wonder if I could trouble you for it? It would be nice to at least say hello to Edith before we head out of the city.”

  Elaine paused for a moment. She knew from Mr. Sarsky’s records that they had resided in Kelowna. “Yes, I suppose I could do that. It’s Mr. George Snyder, is that correct?”

  “Right.” Henry held his breath. He could barely hear the sound of Mr. Sarsky’s secretary rifling through the index card holder over the pounding of his heart.

  “Yes, here it is,” and oh, thank God! she recited the number.

  Henry was so nervous and anxious and excited he could barely write it down. He repeated each digit carefully and clearly making sure there was no mistake. He finally had a way to reach Jenny! He felt as though he’d received the code to a secret vault holding the greatest treasure on the Earth! Finally! After three years… A rush began to rise from the pit of his stomach. He made every effort to suppress it long enough to complete the call.

  “Thank you for the number, miss.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Snyder. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

  His palm was so damp the receiver slid from his hand before he could hang it up. It dangled from the wall phone, stretching the cord as he let out a yell that surely must have been heard by neighbours three doors down. His heart thundered like it might burst through his ribs or explode outright.

  He couldn’t believe it! After all these years!

  The rush returned; he thought he would soar like an eagle and surely would fly any moment. He picked up the sheet of paper, wanting to make certain it wasn’t a dream. He actually held his first love’s phone number and gazed at it long and hard until the number blurred with his tears.