“Okay,” Anna replied in a resigned tone. She hugged Claire one last time before following Edna’s lead down the hall.
The housekeeper came back in a few minutes. “I think I got her settled in for a bit. At least until you two get through dinner.”
“Do you think she liked the purse?” Claire looked from George to Edna.
Everyone broke out laughing.
“I think you got a winner, there, Mrs. Wright,” Edna said, looking down the hall. “I need to do some last-minute things in the kitchen, and then you two will be ready.”
“Are you sure Anna can’t at least eat with us?” Claire sat on the sofa next to George.
“I had Edna give her an early dinner. Tonight, I want it to be just the two of us.”
As much as Claire enjoyed times with Anna, she had to admit that dining alone with George would be romantic.
“Are you as excited about tonight as I am?” George cupped Claire’s hand in his.
“I’ve been dreaming of it. I’m sure you’ve been there lots of times, haven’t you?”
“Anita and I would go whenever we got a chance. She loved the theater.” George stared off ahead, thoughtful.
“Adrian and I did our fair share of parties and theaters too. He always adored fine dining and a chance to go out for an evening.”
“And you wearing one of his fine hats.” George grinned at her.
“Yes, I always got compliments on them.” Claire chuckled. “Do you know one night when he and I were at dinner, a woman made such a fuss over one style I was wearing, that she bought it from me, right off my head. Didn’t matter that I’d already worn it. She just had to have it, she told me.”
George laughed. “I don’t doubt that for one minute.” He glanced in earnest at Claire. “Would you like one of his hats from the store?”
“Oh, heavens, no! I can purchase some shiny hair clips or a nice tortoise shell comb, if I want it.”
“Or you can take one of the hats from England. Just got in some of those the other day.”
Claire didn’t want to look too closely at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him gazing at her, almost like he was memorizing every inch of her face. His thumb grazed over the top of her hand.
Edna slipped into the living room. “Dinner is ready.” Her smile spread across her face. She took great pride in her cooking. “I’ve made roasted quail, some fluffy potatoes with cream mixed in, and some steamed butter carrots. And for dessert, I have my trademark cake, a seven-layer apple spice cake.”
“Goodness, that sounds delicious.” Claire smiled at the older lady. “You must have been busy all day.”
“That’s what I live for, Mrs. Wright.”
“Maybe I can talk Edna into preparing more of her trademark meals and desserts, and you can join me in enjoying them.” George rubbed his hand down Claire’s back, pausing just a little to adjust the pearls at the back of her neck. Claire sensed the heat infusing her face.
“I’d love nothing better. It’s nice to let someone prepare the meals for a change.”
The kind housekeeper ushered George and Claire into the dining room, where candles glowed between two plates. A small crystal bowl held several brilliant dark red roses.
“How pretty. And I love the tablecloth.”
“Just one of several I had in a collection. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He spoke the words as if he’d picked out the collection himself instead of Anita. Glistening china held fresh food hot from the stove. Beside each plate a linen napkin displayed shiny sterling silver. A crystal goblet had been filled with a brilliant burgundy wine.
“Mrs. Wright, you do take some drink, don’t you?” Edna looked at her. “I just assumed, but I know some ladies are adamant against alcohol.”
“I take wine, Edna. I’m not one for all these religious rules all of the time.” She suddenly regretted what she’d just said. What would George think? “I mean, I believe in moderation.” She sat down embarrassed.
“No need for making apologies, Claire. We know exactly what you mean. We’ll just keep it between us three.” George smiled, while Edna nodded in agreement.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Mrs. Wright. My grandmother kept a small flask hidden in her pantry. Whenever I stayed with her, I’d see her take a small sip from it every morning. One day she caught me looking at her, and she said, ‘Honey, we never talk about this. We don’t want the church ladies knowing. It’s just a little pick-me-upper I take every day.” At that story, all three broke out laughing.
“I definitely understand your grandmother,” said Claire laughing.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I’m going to check on Anna.” Edna turned and left.
“Mrs. Wright, please feel free to start eating.” George held out a hand toward her plate.
Claire couldn’t help but detect a certain pained expression in George’s tone when he stated her married name, as if the sound of it now struck a certain chord of irritation. Come to think of it, she’d experienced some relief when he didn’t talk more about the tablecloths. In some small way, she was getting a little tired of Anita too. The fact that Anita wasn’t totally enamored with her daughter still bothered her. George may have his fond memories of her, but like the others, she found the woman rather cold.
“Something on your mind?” George had put his fork down, his eyes intent on hers.
“No. Why?”
“You seem like you’re thinking of something.”
“I was just thinking about Anna and how she reacted to the fur purse. She was so cute.” Claire aimed a forkful of carrots into her mouth.
“That was a nice gift. Really, you didn’t need to do that, but thank you.”
“I wish she could come with us tonight.”
George sipped some of his wine. “I’m glad it’s just us.”
Chapter Twenty
The Bijou teemed with people strolling leisurely over the flowered carpet, ladies wearing their furs and best jewelry. Off to the sides, groups of gentlemen chatted, their laughter chiming in with the ladies, who also congregated. As women passed, a new scent of the latest cologne filled Claire’s nostrils. She’d doused herself with the fancy French scent George had given her. As she and George slipped deeper into the lobby of the theater, she caught bits and pieces of conversation regarding the war in Europe. She wished for one night people would leave politics and the war at home, and not sully such a spectacular place with negative talk.
At least the women still showed interest in fashion and homemaking advice. She wished she knew these people or had acquired a more intimate group of friends. Since her arrival in Knoxville, her focus had turned down a narrow path, pretty much shutting out everyone and everything else that didn’t involve the store or George Parker and his daughter. Maybe I need to start going to church. She made a mental note to ask George about his church the next time she thought of it.
“George, over here,” called out an older gentleman with a neatly groomed mustache. Claire at once recognized the hat style he wore. One of Adrian’s styles.
“Mr. Pemberton, how are you?” With an out-stretched hand, George smiled and made his way to the man. At once they shook hands.
“And who’s this lovely lady with you?” Pemberton’s eyes twinkled as he offered his hand also to Claire.
“This is Miriam Woodsworth, my newest store employee. She just moved here not long ago.” George smiled, landing a pointed look at Claire. He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder.
“Just moved here?” The man’s face turned a more focused gaze at Claire. “Where did you live before you came here?”
“Ash Grove, not far from Memphis.” Claire smiled, following George’s lead and hoping Pemberton wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“A little ways away from here, but Tennessee still. Did you happen to ride that beauty of a train, The Tennessean?”
“I did,” said Claire, smiling. “And it was a beauty. Had everything a body could want.”
&n
bsp; “I’ve ridden it once during my travels.”
George added, “Mr. Pemberton represents the upper end line of men’s suits we carry in the store. Keeps us supplied. Has a good eye for style, don’t you, Warren?”
“I try my darnedest. Old George is picky, but I guess you’ve figured that out by now, haven’t you, Miss. Woodsworth? Or is it Mrs.?” He looked at George.
“I’m married.” Claire forced an uncomfortable smile. She saw the rise of Pemberton’s eyebrow. The heat rose in her face.
“Claire has added a new line to the store. She does looming. Got beautiful towels and runners now.” George shifted to the other foot. Claire noted he seemed as uncomfortable with the question.
“You don’t say,” said Pemberton. “That’s wonderful. I’ll have to send Emily over to see them.”
“Warren, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to mosey on. Hope you enjoy the show.” George bowed his head and pulled Claire along with him.
“Good,” George mumbled in Claire’s ear, “we needed to get away. And thanks for playing along.”
“Thank you.”
“The more we keep things to ourselves, the better off we’ll be. That’s what I say.” George tipped his head, politely acknowledging a young lady as she passed.
“All things aside, he seems like a nice man.”
“He’s one of the best acquaintances I have. A fine, upright human being. You don’t get much better than Warren Pemberton.
“I agree with him. You have high standards.”
“A mark of a good man is how high his standards are. Once you stop striving for perfection, you can just crawl in a corner and let lift pass you by. Because it just won’t matter anymore.”
Claire relaxed as she and George mingled into the crowd. His hand had found hers, and she basked in warmth that flowed over her. She’d nearly forgotten the excitement of going out, dressing up, and being with someone she cared about. And George had turned into someone she more than cared about. He was turning into someone she might actually love. She turned her face for a brief glimpse at the man beside her.
His suit was impeccable. Probably one of Warren Pemberton’s collection. Like Warren, he also wore one of Adrian’s fine hats. Only now did full appreciation for Adrian’s talent hit her, the realization cementing itself so strongly into her soul that it would never leave no matter what happened. And what would happen once Adrian couldn’t make the hats anymore? What would happen to Mitchell if the business shut down? This was something else she wanted to discuss with her brother-in-law.
George ushered Claire in the direction of the theater. “Let’s find our seats. Show’s about to start.”
When they entered, she gazed all around. The massive room held three levels of box seating on each side. When she turned around for a quick view, two balcony levels loomed behind her. A maroon curtain covered the stage. Hushed tones filled the room with a soft buzzing sound. Conversations continued between new groups of people or just among couples. She and George made their way slowly down the aisle to the main floor, where they ended up on the tenth row from the stage. They squeezed their way into their seats, next to an older man and woman. The woman wore a set of huge white pearls. In her hand, she clutched a shiny pair of mother of pearl opera glasses. She shifted closer to the male beside her as Claire sat down. Off on the far left hand side, Pemberton threw up his hand with an amiable wave, which George returned, accompanied with a smile.
“Oma got us great tickets, didn’t she?” Claire smiled at George.
“I’ll say. This is just as good as front row seats, if you ask me.” He settled himself easily into the chair, letting out a sigh when he’d positioned himself in a comfortable position.
The house lights flickered. All talking came to a quick end. Over the loudspeaker, a voice announced the following:
Ladies and gentlemen, from Lindsay and Crouse’s adaptation of stories by Clarence Day, Jr, the Bijou Theater proudly presents “Life With Father,” starring Dorothy Gish and Louis Calhern.”
As the room darkened, the orchestra struck the first chords of music. The curtains drew apart, revealing a large stage slowly illuminating to full light. The play started. Claire sat, eyes riveted on the stage as she absorbed every move, word, and scene. For all her attempts to remain totally focused, she and George chuckling at the humor demonstrated by a brilliant cast of characters, her mind still wandered at times. She wondered if she’d had a family and Adrian had kept a sane mind, would they be a lot like the Day family on stage? Would Claire have pampered Adrian while trying to make him feel like man of the house? That she would never know.
Somehow, she didn’t quite see George like the character Mr. Day. George had a certain strictness about him, which still permeated through kindness and his moments of humor. He also held women in higher regard, especially her. Most likely he did the same with Anita. The more she thought about it, she wasn’t like Vinnie, the seemingly frivolous happy-go-lucky stage wife, the one who really held the family together.
In many ways, she was glad. Constant use of cunning and wit exhausted her. She was a straight-shooter, wanting a husband who saw marriage as a partnership of equals. She knew in 1941 this ideal was not the norm. With Adrian, she’d gotten lucky, just like George felt about Anita.
Her reminiscing came to an end when George interlaced his fingers through hers. She always liked it when he rubbed his thumb over her hand. There was something about the gesture that held a more intimate, heart-felt emotion to it. Together they sat, arms and fingers entwined, until the play ended.
They followed the crowd back to the lobby, where Pemberton stood waiting near the door leading outside the Bijou. His wife stood next to him, watching as he flagged down George and Claire.
“That was a terrific show, wasn’t it?” He grinned.
“We had a wonderful time, didn’t we?” George motioned to Claire.
“Loved Dorothy Gish,” said Claire. “I thought she made the whole show.”
“Men don’t know it, but it’s really we women who run the show.” Emily winked at Claire and extended her hand. “I’m Emily, by the way. And Warren told me that you have some towels you’ve loomed in George’s store?”
“Yes. They haven’t been out too long, so it’s a new product line.”
“How talented you are,” Emily remarked. “I’ve never tried looming before, but I admire people who do that kind of work.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what my talent is.”
“Your talent it taking care of me.” Warren chuckled, wrapping his wife in a warm, brief hug.
“That does take talent!” Emily chuckled along with everyone else in the small group, and then glanced around. “Claire, Warren says you just moved here. Do you and your husband live near George or in town somewhere?”
Warren’s eyes remained steadfast on the ground. Claire sensed George tensing up next to her, and the heat found its way to her cheeks again.
“I’m staying in one of George’s houses,” Claire answered, forcing an obligatory smile on her face.
“Oh, is it the one that he and Anita used to live in?” Emily’s eyes lit up. “I just love that house. Holston River Road is just so beautiful out there with all that green countryside.”
Warren spoke up, “Emily, sweetheart, I think we need to head on back home. I think Claire and George are pretty tired.” He offered his hand to George for a quick handshake. “Sir, I’ll see you at the store. I have some fine collections to show you the next time I come in.”
“Looking forward to it, Warren. Emily, so nice to see you again.”
Managing a polite wave to Emily, Claire smiled back as the couple turned and headed out the door.
“You okay?” George wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulder.
“Humans are just so inquisitive, aren’t they?”
“They are. I hear bears are the same way. At least, that’s what I’ve heard my hunter customers tell me when they come into the store for regular clothes.”
“Not much. Just as curious, and just as ornery at times.” He laughed and hugged her tighter. “Let’s get on out of here before someone else sees us.”
As Claire and George stepped outside the theater doors, someone quickly moved into the shadows undetected. Ruby watched as the couple made their way to George’s car.
***
George pulled into the driveway of the house, and stepped out of the car. He headed over to Claire’s door, offering his hand for assistance as she stepped out.
“Did you want to come in for a quick cup of coffee and a piece of cake? I made it yesterday. Maybe just as a quick treat?”
His face lit up. “I’d love nothing better. You get the cake ready, and I’ll make the coffee. Sound like a deal?”
“Let’s do it.”
Claire opened the door to the greeting of Buzzie and Moo, with Buzzie slinking up next to her leg, while Moo sniffed out George.
“Well, hello there, kitties. Claire takes such good care of you, doesn’t she?” His voice changed into cooing adoration at the two cats, both deciding they wanted littles scratches behind the ears and on the top of their heads.
In the kitchen, Claire pulled out the Chemex coffee maker and placed it on the counter.
“They keep you company, don’t they?” George sauntered into the kitchen, taking up the kettle resting on the stove and filling it with water.
“Yes, they do. Never a dull moment with those two around.”
Several minutes later, both of them had found their seats at the tiny table, complete with cups of hot coffee and fresh chocolate cake.
“This is delicious.” George closed his eyes and smiled after swallowing down a bite of the cake.
“You get to enjoy everything Edna makes. I adore her cooking.”
“Don’t kid yourself, my dear. She’s no better than you are.”
Escape From Purgatory Page 23