Escape From Purgatory

by Scarlet Darkwood - BooksGoSocial Historical Fiction

  “Are you sure you won’t have dinner with Anna and me? She’d love to see you.”

  Calling on every ounce of will to say no, Claire politely declined. “I’d love to see her too, but I hear these pages calling out to me.” She patted the stack.

  “I’ll let you off the hook tonight, but you have to come one day this week.”

  “I promise. And give that sweet darling a hug for me.” Opening the car door and stepping out, she smiled one last time.

  George drove off, leaving Claire alone for the evening. After a light meal for dinner, she showered and settled in bed to review the stack of literature. Taking up each booklet, she familiarized herself with the companies, their products, descriptions, and prices. Way too much to memorize in one night, but she at least had an idea of what products were available. A good ending for her first day at work.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’ve been awfully busy back here. Haven’t seen you on the floor all morning.” Oma had slipped into the break room, Claire had not even glanced up when the door swooshed open.

  “Huh?” She reluctantly turned her eyes away from her scattered papers, catching full force the look peering from a pair of silver-rimmed glasses focused on the table. “Surely you don’t miss me out there. At least you get to wait on customers in peace, make some extra commission for yourself.” Claire smiled at Oma, cringing inside when the lady returned a steely gaze in return.

  Thursday had rolled around, and Claire remembered the expression of dismay clouding Oma’s face Monday evening when she watched the catalogs leave the store. Tuesday and Wednesday had passed without any questions as to why those books left the store. Her absence from the sales floor, tucked back in a room where she labored over paperwork, had been too much for the poor lady.

  “Mind me being nosy and asking what you’re working on?” Oma, in a forced casual tone, pulled her sack lunch out of the refrigerator and sat down at the table.

  Ugh, the dreaded question. “Oh, just some things that George . . . I mean, Mr. Parker asked me to do.”

  “I see.” Oma kept her eyes steady on Claire as she inched out a parcel wrapped in aluminum foil. “Like what kinds of things? Will this mean some new changes for the store?”

  Claire capped the fountain pen she’d been using, laying it easily on the table. She stood up and walked to the refrigerator, pulling out her own lunch before joining Oma.

  “If you’d rather not say, or if Mr. Parker wants to keep it secret, I understand.” The older lady took a dainty bite out of the corner of her sandwich. “Looks like it’s pretty important if he’s letting you use his best fountain pen.”

  “What do you do, watch him all the time? How do you know it’s his best fountain pen?”

  Oma’s face pinked.

  Claire’s voice trailed down a few octaves. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound rude, but it just surprised me.”

  “I remember the day he received that pen. Anita ordered it for him for his birthday.”

  No use fighting this anymore, ducking and running whenever Oma looked like she might engage Claire in any long, meaningful conversation. Claire took a few breaths, steadying the whirl of thoughts in her head. She’d never quite put out of her mind the discussion with George the first afternoon in his office.

  “Oma, the reason I’m not helping on the floor today is because I’m looking through these sales books. Tomorrow, I can help out a little, but I’ll also be talking with everyone throughout the day about product lines they think would be good in this store. Basically, what should stay and what should go.”

  “He’s letting you do that?” Oma’s expression displayed sadness. She stared at the table, chewing longer on her food before swallowing.

  “Look, I sense that something’s bothering you. Let’s talk about it for a minute, clear the air.”

  “I’m fine. I was just wondering, that’s all.” Oma managed a faint smile, eyes averted toward her lunch.

  “Oma, look at me for a second. Please.” Claire took a deep breath, hoping this would all go well.

  The lady glanced up, lips pursed.

  Claire continued. “You struck me from the first day as a responsible person. Of course, I think all of you seem like that. But you’re not head clerk for nothing. You’ve got something on your mind, and I’ve been feeling it for the past few days.”

  Still Oma remained silent.

  Claire rummaged up her coolest, negotiating voice, one she tried to use with Adrian at times before he abandoned her at Hatchie River. “What are your thoughts? What are you afraid might or might not happen?” Claire searched her co-worker’s eyes. “I’m all ears. Let’s figure out what we can do to make this store better and how we can work as a team.”

  “He’s put you in charge, hasn’t he?” The lady sat back in her chair.

  Taken aback, Claire replied, “Well, no, he hasn’t. Why do you think that? And is that what’s been bothering you?”

  Oma sat her lunch on the table, took off her glasses, and rubbed her eyes. Startled, Claire viewed the tears pooling there.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve never said anything to anybody.” Oma sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “When Mrs. Parker died, I hoped that I could move up a little more in the store, help out Mr. Parker with this place like his wife.” Oma displayed a half-hearted grin. “Don’t worry. An old woman like me has no designs on him whatsoever. Here’s the real reason I’ve been worried lately. I thought if I could help him with the business, it would stall him needing someone else on board to take his wife’s place.”

  Claire stared at Oma. “Why on earth would you say that? What was wrong with Anita?” She sank back in her chair, intrigued. “And just for the record, I don’t have designs on Mr. Parker, if that’s what you and everybody are thinking.”

  “Of course not. I wasn’t implying that you were, not that it’s any of our business what you do or don’t do.” Oma frowned, waving off Claire’s comment. Lowering her voice, eyes darting around the room, she continued, “She was—if you’ll permit me—a little hellion. I didn’t like her.”

  With an incredulous look on her face, Claire sat rooted to her seat, mouth opened in amazement. She didn’t quite know what to say. Her co-worker was determined to have her say. Shamefully, Claire wanted to hear all the details. Not so much to engage in gossip, but to learn about her boss, neighbor, and more about his character.

  “Mr. Parker adored her. Thought she could do no wrong. She’d come in here like she owned the place, which unfortunately she did in a way, and criticized everything we did, made snide comments about what we wore, ordered us around to do the most menial things at the worst times. She irritated customers. I know we lost business at times because of her.” Oma hung her head. “I can’t deal with another one like her. I’ll quit and find something else to do with my life if I have to go through all that again.”

  Shaking her head, Claire gazed off a moment across the room. “To listen to George, he has her on quite a pedestal, like you said. Myself, I had always envisioned her as kind and gentle. Able to show good judgement and lead with a certain truth and strength about her.”

  “No. You are kind, and from what I’ve seen so far, you have good judgement and possible leadership qualities. Anita—never!” Oma enunciated her words, poking the top of Claire’s hand gently for added emphasis.

  “Oh, dear.” Claire blinked a few times before eating a small bite of her food. She looked back at Oma. “You’ll never have to worry about me bulldozing my way in. And I’m not his wife, so there’s really no danger of anything.”

  Oma had returned her glasses to their proper place. Her face lightened up considerably. “Men are just fickle. That’s all I can say.”

  Did she dare ask the question? Claire straightened up in her chair. “Oma, did Mr. Parker marry Anita for any reason other than love? I mean, he’s not one to have ulterior motives, is he?”

  Wrinkling her brow, Oma sat back, swallowing a
nother bite before speaking. “I don’t think he has ulterior motives, like you say, but I do think he chooses people he thinks will be beneficial to him.” She gazed at Claire. “I don’t mean any of that in a bad way. I think we all make choices. And he’s really a nice, honest man. He’s been very kind to me.”

  “Are you married, Oma?”

  “I’m a widow. Have been for ten years.”

  “Do you ever want to find someone else?” Claire maintained eye contact with her co-worker.

  “Are you kidding?” Oma grimaced. “Heavens, no. I took care of my husband, loved him dearly, but I don’t care about another one. There’s a certain freedom in being alone. You can make your own decisions, you can have things your way most of the time, and nobody bothers you. Any company I need I get from work and church. That’s plenty good enough for me.”

  The corners of Claire’s mouth turned down as she raised her eyebrows, with more surprise than understanding. Though her experience with Adrian should have soured her desire for any man at this point, the major part of her longed for that old family unit again. She might gain the man one day, but gaining the child seemed elusive at best.

  Oma spoke up after a long silence. “Claire, whatever happens, I’ll stand behind you. Other than keeping my sanity, I still thought it would be kind of fun to get more involved in the store. I enjoy learning about different parts of the business. The truth is, I adore retail. I love coming in every day, waiting on people, learning their likes, dislikes, getting to know them. There’s a personal satisfaction I get from making the sale, making someone happy.”

  “And you know what, Oma, you’ll still get to do those things. We’ll do them together, and the others on the floor will help. This will be an even better department store than before.”

  The mood had lifted, and Claire breathed an inward sigh of relief. Thank goodness this had all been settled. No more walking on tiptoes. The two women finished their lunches and Oma excused herself. Claire tossed her lunch sack away and returned to working on her sheets, her eyes roaming over the titled pages filled with page numbers, names of items, and catalog item codes. Glancing at the stack of remaining catalogs, she grinned and shook her head, relieved at the conversation between her and Oma.

  She’d only reviewed three of them, studying each page, taking notes, check-marking items she thought would be good, starring others requiring more thought. Oma’s advice might be good for those. As she considered certain products, her mind often strayed back to looming. As she rifled through the stack of books, she spied the catalogue containing the looms. She opened the pages and read through the descriptions beneath certain models that struck her fancy.

  Had George ever considered carrying these in the store? And why? Was there a solid customer base for this type of item? She knew one thing. Owning her own loom again would definitely make her happy. Saving up the money to purchase one would prove a daunting challenge. There was probably no way Mitchell could sneak hers out of the house, and getting it here to Knoxville would be expensive. Even in Adrian’s wild state, he’d surely miss a huge item like that. Then there were the colorful threads to choose from. For a few minutes, she daydreamed about seeing her towels, runners, and maybe even a tablecloth lining a shelf in the linens section of the store. Maybe she could add some small wraps for covering up when in bed or sitting outside on a porch when the weather got cool.

  For another few hours, she spent lording over the books, making notations on new sheets of paper. Leona and Ruby came in for their breaks, and she answered their questions like she had with Oma.

  “I think what you’re doing is a great idea.” Ruby smiled, glancing over at the catalogs with interest. When Leona left, she remained at the table with Claire. “We’ll be glad to help too. You’ll find we’re not shy about giving our opinion.” Ruby sat, eying Claire with some consideration.

  “What? Why are you just staring at me like that?” Claire looked up, hand poised over her sheets.

  “Since you’ve come to work here, Mr. Parker looks like he’s fairly floating on air.”

  “Oh?”

  “I hear you live down the street from him. Do you see much of each other?” Ruby asked the question with no consideration for propriety.

  Claire’s cheeks warmed. “He owns the house I’m renting from him. Very good landlord. He doesn’t pry or get snoopy in my business, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her lips spread into an obligatory grin as she blinked a few times, staring hard into Ruby’s face.

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed as she nodded her head lightly, taking in every word. “That little girl of his needs a good mother.”

  It was Claire’s turn to nod. “Yes. Won’t debate you there.” She turned back to her papers, scrawling a few numbers across the line.

  “Have you met her? His daughter?” Ruby poured some tea from her thermos. “I don’t think Anita was all that great of a mother.”

  “Mmm.” Claire kept her eyes on the page.

  Ruby ran her fingers threw her hair and stretched a little in her chair, eyes now focused on the sheets of paper. “She’d bring that little girl here to the store sometimes, on the days she came in to work, if you want to call it that. I swear, she was just short-tempered with her. That woman had no business having kids.”

  Dropping George’s “best fountain pen” onto the table, Claire lifted her head and gazed at Ruby. “Was she as bad as all that?”

  “Did Oma give you her bit?” Ruby eyes held a determined glint.

  The way her lips parted as she gazed at Claire with curiosity gave her an almost sultry look. Too pretty to be in a department store peddling sewing machines. And why on earth had George not tried his luck with her? Claire shook her head, tapping the table with the tips of her fingers. “I’m not sure why, but I’ve heard more about Mr. Parker’s wife today. It’s almost like I’m hearing that a witch has gone.”

  “I think that little song in The Wizard of Oz sums it up pretty good.” Ruby’s lips turned into a smile, lighting up her face even more.

  Grimacing, Claire picked up the pen again. “Far be it for me to judge, but isn’t that a bit harsh? Mr. Parker thought an awful lot of her. She couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “I suspect Oma gave you her two cents worth on that too.”

  “Oma didn’t go into detail, but said she thought very highly of him.”

  “‘What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit.’” Ruby fluttered her lashes.

  “Excuse me?” Claire’s eyes grew wide.

  Ruby fell back in her chair, her face glowing with satisfaction. “Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing. Act five, scene one.”

  “And that’s supposed to mean . . .?”

  “Look, Anita was an attractive woman. She didn’t come from much, but she educated herself in the art of wooing a good man. I think she knew if she wanted anything in life, she had to act the part to get what she wanted. He fell for her like a silly schoolboy.”

  “George seems like . . . Mr. Parker seems like a very nice man from what I’ve experienced so far. If he wants to think he was happy with her, what harm is it? Anita’s gone, so it really doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Claire forced a light smile, hoping the curt tone in her voice didn’t seem too emotional.

  Ruby yawned. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, Mr. Parker is harmless. I just hate to see nice people taken advantage of. That’s all.”

  “Ruby, I’ll just get right to the point. Not meaning to sound rude, but I’m pretty sure all of you have chatted when I’m not around. It’s obvious to me. From what I’ve heard, who could blame you? Strange gal in town, owner seems more cheerful than usual, lost one undesirable person only to think you may have another right behind her—“

  “Oh, no, Claire. Not at all.” Ruby’s face clouded as she gently held Claire’s wrist. “I didn’t mean any of what I said to be taken—“

  “I know exactly what you mean. And you, Oma, and all the rest out there are
saying the same thing. I’m not stupid. I know human nature and how it goes. Trust me on that one, sister.” Claire mentally chided herself for getting riled. She inhaled a deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t come here to create trouble, fight with people, or try to get into a man’s . . .”

  “So why did you come here, Claire? You’ve really said very little about yourself since you’ve started. I’m not gonna lie. The mystery is killing us.” Ruby did that head tilt again.

  “You’re pretty bold, aren’t you Ruby?” Claire mimicked her coworker’s expression.

  “I think you are too.” Ruby’s voice remained calm and even, her expression almost blank. “Again, don’t take that to mean a bad thing. I watch and listen to the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, the way you handle customers. You’re a woman who’s sure of herself.” Ruby’s eyes glittered. “Tell me, then. What brought you to town?”

  Under the table, Claire clenched a fist in one last attempt to keep herself grounded without going off. “Let’s just say sometimes a woman needs a change of pace, and I’ll leave it at that.”

  “Point taken.” Ruby gave a sign of resignation and scooted back the chair, wincing at the loud screeches from the legs grating against the floor. “Again, I’m not here to fight you, either, Claire. But I’m with Oma and the others on this one. I’m hoping to god the atmosphere in this store stays calm and happy. There will either be mutiny or we’re all simply walking out.”

  “Honestly, Ruby, none of you scare me. I’ve known true fear.” Claire relaxed the muscles in her face, staring hard at her co-worker. Her tone rang out just as even and steely as Ruby’s.

  “Oh, I’m not trying to scare you. I just thought it might be helpful for all of us if you understood a little history and what it was like before you came. And I’ll add this.” Ruby patted Claire on the shoulder. “If you can land Mr. Parker, more power to you.”