“Is that what happened with the backhanded catch?”
“No. That was a line drive just out of my reach. All I could do was fling myself toward second base, glove open. Got it and he was out. Dennis, on first, the guy on the other team, stuck tight.”
“What happens when you’re at the plate? Do you know the pitchers?”
“Usually. You can always be fooled by a new guy but eventually you memorize his delivery, what he can do well, what he can’t. The other thing is to pay attention when your teammate bats.”
“Where they hit it?”
“Yes, because I watch how the defense moves about on the field. Who covers what. Who is a step slow and who is a little slow upstairs.” He pointed to his head.
“So you know what to do when you hit or where you hit and what to do on base? When you have a chance to steal?”
“Right. In a way, Celeste, baseball kept me alive in France. I listened for firing patterns, I listened for the sound of the shells. I was always alone on the bike and oftentimes the Germans missed our lines. They overshot or they aimed for the roads if they thought a convoy was coming. Paying attention to everything like the sound of the ball off the bat, well, I did that over there. Sometimes I could hear the boom and I hauled my bike into a ditch. Saved me.”
“For which I am grateful.”
Ben hailed a cab. They’d walked a bit but the Belvedere Hotel would be a long, long walk. Once in Celeste’s room, neither wasted any time.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he said, “I’ll race you to the bed.”
Knowing she’d lose, Celeste accepted. “If you win, you have to draw something for me. A consolation prize.”
Lying there afterward, Celeste told him about the conversation she’d had with the girls about Pliny the Elder’s Natural History and the Machyles who could change sex at will.
“I thought of that because I teased you about Carlotta taking comfort in you being a man.”
“You said you’d know what to do if I weren’t.” He kissed her cheek. “Well, what would you do?”
“I’d beat you to the bed.”
“And?”
“Once there I would assault your person.” She laughed. “If the electricity is there, the details take care of themselves.”
“I believe you, but I don’t know what I would do without my details.”
“You’d enjoy yourself.” She turned to face him, propped up on one elbow. “If you could change sex at will, would you?”
“I never thought about it. Then again, I’ve never read…what’s his name?”
“Pliny the Elder.”
“I’m thinking about it.” He propped himself up on his elbow to face her. “I would have to learn a lot. And the clothes. How much money would two wardrobes cost, especially women’s clothing? But, I’d try so long as I’d be in bed with you.”
Returning to work pleased Paul. Making money was a good thing, but seeing a room enlivened by fresh paint delighted him. He remembered France, sides of buildings torn away, each room a different color. The buildings were like patchwork quilts and it made him sad that their owners would never be living in those rooms again. Now he had a good job, and he liked making rooms, as well as the outsides of houses, pretty. Anson Paint transformed interiors and exteriors.
The day—low sixties, bright sun—promised spring’s glory, or so he hoped. Sitting on the front doorstep of the house, lunch pail open, he saw Yashew turn the corner in his truck. He walked out to the road, waving Yashew down.
The large fellow pulled the black truck to the curb.
“Hey.”
“Hey back at you.” Paul opened the passenger door to chat. “I need to tell you, Lottie’s been flapping her big flannel mouth about all of us sleeping over at Immaculata Academy. She says you told her.”
Confused, Yashew cut the motor. “I did.”
“You didn’t do wrong but she’s making it out that I slept with Louise.”
Turning red, Yashew spat, “She what?”
“I know you didn’t say that and I’m not trying to make trouble with your girlfriend but Louise’s upset.”
Yashew flopped back in his seat, dropped his hands from the steering wheel. “Why would she twist what I said?”
Paul shrugged. “She doesn’t like Louise. Dimps Jr. doesn’t like Juts.”
“I’m sorry for this. I’ll straighten it out.”
“I know you’re not behind it even if you are a navy man,” Paul teased him.
Yashew chuckled. “Damn. If I never see the deck of a ship again, I’ll be a happy man. Every morning, every damned morning, unless the weather was bad, I scrubbed that deck.”
“Funny what you remember.”
“Sometimes,” Yashew quietly replied, then raised his voice slightly. “Do you understand women?”
“That’s a big question. I sort of understand my mother. I think I understand Louise but I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it. Why?”
“Lottie telling a story like that. Well, if you don’t like someone, avoid them or call them out and knock the tar out of them. Seems pretty simple to me.”
“Me, too, but I don’t think Louise and Lottie will go into the ring.”
“It’s the behind-the-back stuff. I hate it, and the mother has it, too. My mother and sister aren’t like that.”
“Your mother and sister are happy. I don’t think any of the Rhodeses would be happy if you blew a fan on them in Hell.” He held up his hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Aw, Pearlie, it’s the truth. The other thing I don’t understand is, Lottie lets me touch her, she’ll rub her hand on my crotch, then she pulls away. If you don’t want it, then don’t play around, know what I mean?”
“She didn’t do that to me. I guess she likes you more. Lottie and I aren’t suited for one another. We didn’t go out very long.” Paul noticed the other painters going back into the house. “The teasing stuff. I think women like to have power over you. That’s a sure way. For the record, my Wheezie doesn’t do that. Hey, I gotta go back to work. Let me buy you a beer sometime.”
Yashew nodded. “I’ll come knocking on your door.”
“Hey, what are you hauling?”
“What do you think?”
“After the fire, Mr. Van Dusen’s back in business?”
Yashew lowered his voice. “He’s got a business partner. I don’t know who it is, and he’s not saying he has a business partner, but I’m delivering to old and new accounts. He rented a warehouse. Has crates of vegetables in the front. The hooch is in the back.”
“I’ll be.” Paul started to close the door.
Yashew leaned over, his arms so long he easily reached the door. “Do you kiss Louise? Does she let you do that?”
A big grin crossed Paul’s face. “She does and I do. I could kiss that woman all day.”
Yashew shook his head—“Lucky devil”—and closed the door.
Paul whistled back to the house.
—
Celeste, reading a letter from Ramelle, put it down as Fannie blew through the back door.
“Hello, Cora. Where’s herself?”
“Out back.” Cora tilted her head toward the back door, opened a crack for the fresh air.
Fannie Jump walked out to behold Celeste. Glue and the letter on her lap. “Madam.”
“You usually arrive via the front door. Is this a moment of espionage?”
“No. I’m trying not to be predictable.”
“Fannie, honey, don’t try too hard.” Celeste laughed.
“Have you thought about my proposal?”
Celeste paused. “Would you like a refreshment before we get into this?”
“I’ll get it.”
“Then tell Cora to bring me sweet tea and”—she glanced down at the sleeping kitten—“milk for when Glue awakens. She’s twice as big. I hope you noticed.”
“A most impressive kitten.” Fannie’s mouth twitched upward as she left for the scotch.
&
nbsp; Cora came out before Fannie did. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. Did I tell you I stopped to talk to Increase Martin?” She mentioned the South Runnymede vice fire chief. “We raked over the fire at Immaculata. He said without gasoline odor or something obvious, he could not determine whether the fire was deliberately set or not. The terrible weather also added to his confusion.” She paused. “What is taking Fannie so long?”
“Additional fortification before she joins you.”
Just then she walked out. “Girls.”
“I was telling Cora about my talk with Increase Martin about Carlotta’s fire.”
“Have you noticed his beard is even longer?”
Cora, hands on hips, said, “Some people see a long beard and think wisdom. I think fleas.”
They all laughed. Cora went back inside.
Fannie Jump, glass in hand, sat down. “Did Increase find anything? There’s no way to tell.” She took a big sip. “Oh, you ran into Increase Martin and I ran into Father Crofts, who said that Julius Rife gave a handsome amount to St. Paul’s to fix the roof and that you suggested it. Thrilled as only Father Crofts can be.” She put her glass down. “This may be the first time a Rife ever cooperated with a Chalfonte.”
“I have a funny feeling it won’t be the last.” Celeste then asked, “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“No. I’m going to lose twenty pounds. I know I’ve said that before but I am. I’m tired of looking at myself.” She held up her hand. “No, no one has said anything.” By that, she meant Tony.
“Good for you. I have thought about the two of us purchasing a place. Thought a lot about it this weekend. I would need a place with a huge attic that can be heated and has good north light. Even if I have to put in the skylights.”
“Are you taking up painting? I don’t recall you exhibiting a shred of interest during our school days.”
Celeste laughed. “I remain as untalented as ever. There is comfort in consistency. It’s not for me, it’s for Ben. First, I have to bring him around to the idea. I thought of a warehouse or something down around Camden Station, but that’s not the safest place.”
“Rough down in the warehouse district,” Fannie acknowledged. “The good thing about that is we’d never run into anyone we know.”
“Or so we think.”
“Celeste, I never thought of that. I assumed, if you got on board, we’d buy a discreet house in a good district, you know, like Federal Hill.”
“Lovely. Sooner or later someone that we know would see us there. I expect we will be found out, although there is nothing wrong with two friends sharing a house in the city.”
“It’s who will be watching the gentlemen go in and out.”
“Well, it’s not a bawdy house, Fannie. Or is it?”
Fannie finished her scotch. “Ha. We’d make a fortune.”
“Fortunately, we both have one. You begin searching. Much as I like being in the west, it’s too far away from the stadium. He won’t want a car. He doesn’t want to take things. I suppose he could ride the trolley. This is going to take time. I’ll bring him around. It will be easier, I think, once the house is found, once he sees the light.”
“I had no idea he’s an artist.”
“He made drawings for stained-glass windows for Carlotta’s chapel. He fell in love with stained glass during the war. He can tell you better than I can, but Fannie, the windows he has drawn are all of female Bible heroines. And”—she paused, collected herself, for she felt more emotion than she wished to show—“he did one of Ruth and Naomi. He thought I would like it.”
Staring at her childhood friend, Fannie quietly remarked, “How very kind.”
“He is. I’ve never met any man like him.”
“He’s divinely handsome, the body of a Greek god, I should think. You can’t always tell with baseball uniforms, although you can always see the pot gut.”
“He’s beautiful,” Celeste simply replied.
“You attract beauty and are attracted by it. Always were.”
They chatted about where to start looking, possible costs, and the necessity of a housekeeper.
Both heard the back door open. Louise came in, followed by Juts. Celeste filled in Fannie about Lottie’s nasty gossip.
“The day will come when those Rhodes girls get their comeuppance,” Fannie growled. “Ramelle?” She pointed to the letter.
“She says she’s going to explode if she doesn’t have the baby soon. Curtis will have to build an additional room to the house, she’s so big.”
Fannie sighed. “A miserable feeling, perfectly horrid. Giving birth is also a loathsome process, then the nurse plops the little thing in your arms and you fall in love.” She waved her hand. “I was and remain an adequate mother, not an outstanding one, but I do love my boys and I love them even more as they have made their way in the world. I expect Ramelle will have a nurse, then a governess.”
“Curtis will give her whatever she wants.”
“And you?”
Celeste exhaled through her nose. “I, too, will give her whatever she wants, within reason. I’m not her husband.”
“If you could be, would you?”
A long, long silence followed that.
“No,” Celeste finally answered. “I love her, I always will, but I’m not a husband.”
“Umm.” Fannie understood her old friend. “Well, what are you going to do when she comes here, baby in tow? You wouldn’t be taking them to Baltimore.”
“I’m going to tell her. Not the minute she walks through the door, but I won’t wait overlong. She will forever have my love. I mean that. She’s a wonderful woman and she’s made her choice. I never thought I’d make a choice. I never thought I’d fall in love. I assumed I’d coast along.”
“Love?” Fannie’s eyebrows raised.
“He makes me laugh. He makes me feel. He’s a tender soul—more so than I am. The day may come when he leaves. I don’t know, but I do know only a fool refuses love.”
“Have you told him?”
“In my own way. Yes.”
Fannie smiled. “Celeste, I walked in here saying I didn’t want to be predictable. You’ve beaten me to it.”
Glue woke up, meowed loudly for such a little twerp. Celeste put her by the milk.
“That cat will wind up being bigger than a cannonball,” Fannie mused, then added, “I envy you. I don’t think I will ever fall in love again. I don’t know, Celeste.” She looked at her empty scotch glass. “I have got to stop drinking. It makes me tell the truth.”
Celeste laughed. “You always tell me the truth.”
Before they could argue this point, Louise, trailed by Juts, came outside. Cora followed close behind.
“Mrs. Chalfonte, Mrs. Creighton, you won’t believe what just happened,” Louise breathlessly intoned.
“We’re all ears.” Fannie smiled.
“I was leaving work today and Mr. Grumbacher set a date for Mildred and me to go to Philadelphia. Philadelphia, I can’t believe it!”
“We don’t care about Philadelphia,” Juts prodded. “Tell them what happened at Cadwalder’s.”
“Don’t be pushy.” Louise glared at her little sister then resumed her story with an air of additional gravity. “Pearlie was waiting for me, as he usually does if he can. We walked to Cadwalder’s. The square is just beautiful.” Juts pinched Louise, who smacked her hand away but did speed up her story. “Well, everyone was in there, all the kids from both high schools and people off work. Yashew was there with Lottie and Dimps Jr. was there with Bill Whittier.” Louise made a face. “I don’t know what started it but Lottie threw a malted at Yashew. He ducked and it splatted, right against the wall. Boy, did Mr. Cadwalder come out from behind the counter fast. Lottie was screaming, screaming that Yashew was a big nothing and everyone knew he was running booze because it’s the only way a dumb bunny like him could make money. Pearlie got really mad and walked over to stand by Yashew.” She took a dee
p breath. “So Lottie picks up Dimps’s glass and throws it at Pearlie. At Pearlie! Then she hollers that Pearlie and I stayed together at Immaculata Academy. I ran up and I smacked her face so hard I think people could hear it out on the square. I called her a liar and a bunch of other names.”
Juts, happy to add something, reeled them off. “A tit slinger, a user of men, a gold digger, a dumb broad! Oh, there were more!”
“That’s smooth, Juts.” Louise then continued. “She tried to hit me but I was too fast. Dimps Jr. grabbed me from behind. Ev grabbed her and threw her on the ground. Yashew stepped toward Lottie, I thought he was going to hit her. He called her a liar, said she was stirring the pot, that all the men slept in a room after the fire and we girls did likewise. Then, oh, then he called her a cock tease.”
This created a momentous silence.
“A conspicuous absence of chivalry but the truth.” Celeste felt Glue trying to crawl up her leg so she bent over and picked her up.
“Lottie burst into tears, threw some more dishes and glasses, then ran out. Dimps Jr. followed. Bill Whittier, almost as big as Yashew, tried to push his way over to Yashew and Paul. He was yelling that he’d take him down, let’s go to the alleyway, it went on, and Mr. Cadwalder is trying to get people out of the store. He said he didn’t want anyone to step on the glass and Bill pushed by him to swing at Yashew. Yashew just grabbed his arm, then with his other hand grabbed his throat.”
Juts had to garnish the story again. “He did and Bill’s face turned red and his eyes bugged out and Yashew said—”
Louise put her hand over her sister’s mouth. “ ‘I fought Germans. I’m not fighting kids, and Bill Whittier, you’re sticking your dick in Dimps. You’ll be sorry. You play, you pay.’ Then he dropped him and you won’t believe this! Bill started to cry! Mr. Cadwalder walked him out of the store.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” Fannie genuinely was sorry.
“Pearlie stayed back. He and Yashew are helping Mr. Cadwalder clean up the store.” Louise said this with admiration.
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