A black cloud hovers over Peggy at her kitchen table as she stares at the taps. Backed into a corner, she has considered selling the house, but this house, shoddily constructed as it was, is the place where she and Jack had built their dreams. Though they had such a brief time together, there are still memories: the laughter when he got wet paint on his nose redoing the trim in the living room; the time she burnt the chicken when his parents came for dinner; Tommy had been born here and taken his first steps into Jack's outstretched arms.
Despite hard feelings her father and the role he may have played in Jack's death, Peggy is her father's daughter. She understands the differences between assets and revenue, liabilities and expenses. Her house is her only asset. The money from the sale would need to be spent on rent and would eventually run out, leaving her penniless again. Selling the house might buy her time, but it isn't a long-term solution to her problems any more than marrying the grocer is.
She rereads her mother’s comments about the advertisement. Peggy is glad she placed a newspaper ad for lodgers. Desperate times call for desperate measures; there are precious few options open for a woman on her own. She may be backed into a corner, but she is going to come out fighting.
And, of course, there’s the added benefit of her mother shuddering when Peggy becomes an official landlady. How old do you get before you stop enjoying tweaking your mother’s nose?
Peggy considerers phoning the plumber for a return trip, but she remembers he has also sent a past due notice. She drums her fingers against the tabletop, plotting. She could postpone buying a new shirt and jacket for Tommy, which would help a bit. She could also get the butcher to give her soup bones again. Those savings might pay off the existing plumbing bill. Then she could ask the plumber to come again, on credit. Around and around we go, like the carousel at the fair.
Judgement glares at her in the form of her mother’s letter. There’s no way I’ll ask her for help. And I’m not selling my house. And I’m certainly not going to marry Howard. She knows independence and financial security rides on the success of this afternoon’s interviews with potential lodgers.
Chapter 4
W hat forces a single mother of a young child to become a business woman? To open her home to strangers? Money? Security? Stubbornness? Pride? Or is it an inner drive, perhaps not even acknowledged, to enter the world of commerce? Setting up shop as a landlady. For Peggy, it is all of those and more.
In the 1920s, women are becoming resourceful, discovering new confidence. Peggy’s plans exceed her address. It scares her and excites her. Without her vision and ingenuity, it would be easy to drift back to the privileged life she had run from. She is caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, her mother being the Rock of Gibraltar.
The parade begins promptly at two. Peggy meets each potential lodger in her living room, its formality setting the proper tone.
Peggy loves this room. It is cool and serene, with as much elegance as she and Jack could afford. From the gold-striped Empire couch that her mother had grudgingly given her, to the mantle with its shiny brass carriage clock that sits beside the framed photo of she and Jack on their wedding day, the living room is a showpiece for Peggy’s aspirations. The fact that the furniture is strategically placed over the worn spots of a threadbare Aubusson rug is something she deliberately pushes from her mind.
Peggy sits stiffly. Throughout the afternoon, she has been conscious of not letting her spine touch the back of the chair. It was the way she was raised. It’s important to her that the applicants understand what kind of house they might be living in, and the expectations she will have of any occupant.
To make ends meet, she needs three lodgers, but most of the applicants she’s interviewed are too coarse or too loud. Worse, one leered in a manner suggesting he’d want more than room and board in the arrangement.
She rejects a trolley car driver, two mill workers, and a pastor. She’s accepted a bookkeeper and a teacher; good influences on Tommy, not to mention their steady income providing on-time rent payments. Two down, one to go. One last chance to get this right. My kingdom for another schoolteacher.
The last applicant is a young police officer. There is a scrubbed earnestness in his sharply pressed uniform; a sense of pride in the way he holds his cap. Yet, Peggy hesitates, considering whether it’s wise to open her home to someone in the thick of the violence and mayhem that’s developing in the city. Her mother has always warned her about inviting trouble to her door. Oh, why couldn’t you have been an English teacher, Mr. Policeman?
She taps the handful of reference letters he’s handed her. “Constable Kelly, your people are Irish, are they?”
"Yes, Mrs. Barnes. And please, call me Joe.” Usually a confident young man, Joe is feeling awkward sitting in front of this stiff woman in her stiff living room.
Determined to remain a disciplined interviewer, Peggy looks at him over the top of the papers. “Oh, I don’t think so. Please continue, Constable Kelly,” she says, emphasising his title and name with a clipped tone.
"Yes, ma'am. We're originally from Kilkenny. Me family has always worked the coal mines there. But then me mam and da' came to Ardmore, back in '95, I think it was. I was born and raised in Ardmore. That's a little ways up on the Main Line, ma’am. Me da' works in the Smedley-Mehl Coal and Lumberyard there. I guess you could say we've always been in coal.” Joe turns his police cap in his hands.
“And your duties as a policeman. Do you often come into contact with criminals, Constable Kelly?” Peggy asks.
Joe’s laughter echoes around the room. “Well ma’am, it's kind of hard to be a policeman and not come in contact with criminals.” He chuckles again, but stops when he sees she hasn’t intended it as a joke.
I’ve already got an accountant and a math teacher. Do I need a police officer? Is that wise? Maybe if I wait to put out another advertisement, there might be a geography teacher in the next batch. Sheesh, what am I thinking? I can’t wait.
Joe takes a deep breath and tries again. "I'm honored to have been chosen to be part of Enforcement Unit Number One with the Philadelphia Police. Colonel Butler handpicked me himself, ma'am. We both believe strongly in upholding the law. He says that laws are what civilize us and that he aims to enforce the laws, even if it tears him apart. He said that to a newspaper reporter. Did you happen to read it?”
Joe leans forward, a missionary full of enthusiasm for his subject.
“Colonel Butler says, if we don’t have laws, that we can’t have a civil society. And ma’am, I’d say right now, in Philadelphia, that’s pretty much true. With people not respecting and obeying the laws, we don’t rightly have a civilized society. At least, that’s what the colonel says. And it all starts out harmlessly enough. I mean, who doesn’t like to have a swig of beer every now and then?”
“Constable Kelly, let me assure you that this is a dry household,” says Peggy, her hands folded primly in her lap.
“Of course, ma'am, I'd expect nothing less from such a fine, upstanding lady like yourself. But like I was saying, it starts out with a beer. If you're already breaking the law to enjoy the beer, it's not that hard to have another. And if you have more than one or two illegal beers, and are feeling full of yourself, then maybe you'll go over to that fellow who's been annoying you and punch him right in the nose. And before you know it, there are blotto drunks brawling in the street, speakeasies, and professional skirts standing on every corner.”
“Oh my, Constable Kelly.”
“Sorry ma’am, I forget me-self and me good manners, spending so much time with the lads and all. Coppers can be a rough lot, you know. Living here would be good for me, I think. It will remind me of why I’m working with Colonel Butler.”
Peggy hears a lot of Jack’s passion in Joe Kelly’s words. Jack wasn’t a teacher or an accountant, and Jack was decent, driven, committed. Jack was her everything. “And are you comfortable with the rent, Constable?”
“Well, it is a bit of a st
retch, ma’am, what with me having to give them pols, I mean them politicians at City Hall, their due. It works out to one day a month from me pay to keep this job. But don’t get me wrong. I love being a cop, and Colonel Butler is a fine man. It’s a privilege to work with him. So, yes ma’am, I will pay the rent. Every month.”
“I've been reading about Colonel Butler's exploits. The newspaper’s photo shows him striking quite the figure, with a scarlet cape and all that gold braid. He seems to be pretty determined to rid our city of the bootleggers and speakeasies.”
“He is very determined. And successful, too. Did you know that Philadelphia had twelve-hundred saloons at the beginning of the year and we’ve already managed to close almost a thousand of them? Although I guess some of them was joints closed more than once, but still, a grand number. The colonel has only been on the job a couple of weeks. We’ve been working day and night at it. You know, ma’am, I was in his office when he hired me for the First, and he has two Medals of Honor, a Distinguished Service Cross, and a bunch more medals I don’t even know the name of. He’s a real war hero. The most decorated Marine in America, they say.”
Peggy sees the hero-worship shining in his eyes. “Certainly commendable, but it all may be a bit more… more active than I was looking for in a lodger. I have an impressionable young son. I’m not sure exposure to all that front line action would be a good thing.”
Joe looks crestfallen. “I understand, ma’am. I do. It’s just I’m sleeping on me pal’s couch, and there are a lot of us in the house. I’d been hoping to find a place a bit more quiet, the kind of place that me mam would like. She’s not happy with me living here in the city. She’d rather I went back to Ardmore and work the coal with me da’.”
Peggy weighs the looming plumbing bill against the consequences of adjusting her strict criteria that she was relying on to protect her from any risks. But there was something about the young policeman. It’s important to keep to high standards, but then, Jack hadn’t worn a suit and tie every day.
Peggy says, “I suppose it would be like me doing my part to make our city safe again.” This whole boarding-house effort is a risk. What’s one more? In for a penny, in for a pound.
Peggy taps the edges of the papers against her knee, aligning them neatly.
“All right. I'm pleased to say that you can stay here, Constable Kelly, but on probation only, mind. Three months and then we'll evaluate whether the arrangement is working out.” She rises and reaches to shake Joe’s hand. “I’ll accept a deposit now, and your rooms are ready if you want to bring your things around first thing in the morning. I expect that, unless you're working a shift at the police station, you'll be sitting at my dinner table tomorrow at seven sharp.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And when you arrive in the morning, please have the rest of the first month’s rent with you.”
“Yes, ma’am, and thank you, ma’am.”
Joe is still smiling and nodding when the front door bangs open and Tommy, all noise and action, roars into the house. He comes to an abrupt halt when he spies the policeman in the living room with his mother. He turns and tries to make a hasty retreat down the hall.
Peggy calls after him. “Tommy dear, please come in and meet Constable Kelly.”
His slow, small steps are not missed on his mother.
“Now,” says Peggy.
Tommy takes two more steps into the room. Peggy goes over and leads him to where Joe is standing. His shoulders remain hunched.
“Constable Kelly, this is my son, Tommy.”
“Tommy, this is Constable Kelly. He’s going to be staying with us as a lodger.”
Joe extends his hand. “Hello, Tommy. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to living here.”
Tommy’s shoulders relax. “Oh, I get it now. Staying with us. You’re going to be one of Mother’s lodgers.” Tommy focuses on the constable’s badge that Joe has pinned to his chest. “That’s swell. Nice to meet you, sir.”
Joe keeps a firm hold on his hand. "Nice to meet you, too. Say, you must be, what, six?”
“Almost seven, sir.”
“Big enough, eh? You and I should have a chat about the neighborhood, young man. I'm sure you'd be able to fill me in on all kinds of things.”
“Umm, yes sir.”
“Soon, now. All right?”
“Yes, sir,” says Tommy, backing out the door.
“Young boys tend to see and hear things adults may not notice,” Joe says.
“I'm sure that you're right, Constable. However, I should tell you that my son does not spend much time with the neighborhood children because of his school homework. He's very clever and hoping to go to Boys’ Central High School in a few years,” says Peggy.
Peggy does a quick calculation the moment Joe is out the door. She’ll put the teacher in the room beside her bedroom at the front of the house; the young policeman can take the room at the top of the stairs next to Tommy’s; the accountant had seemed eager to get the tiny room off the kitchen. With the policeman’s hours, she had a moment’s doubt about the room assignment, but a policeman closest to Tommy felt right.
With three lodgers and their first months’ rent payments, she’ll be able to pay the outstanding plumbing bill, and put some money on account at the grocer. She hurries to pull on her hat and gloves. She’ll go over to Howard’s grocery store to use his phone and call the plumber for tomorrow morning, and while she’s there she’ll get a chop for Tommy’s supper.
Mother and Father will be furious when I see them Thursday, but I'll have a cake to serve, and water to make coffee. With a satisfied smile, Peggy busily makes a mental list of groceries and other items she needs to buy now that she has an income.
Chapter 5
P eggy’s mattress hasn’t felt this comfortable for years. She stretches, a grin on her face. For the first time in ages, it feels like the curtains have been flung open and sunshine is pouring through the windows. What a difference a day makes. From desperation to landlady in less than twenty-four hours. It is exhilarating to face all comers and emerge victorious.
And that good feeling carries through the day. “Don’t slam the—,” Peggy laughs over Tommy’s energy, and celebrates her own, enjoying washing the dishes in hot, sudsy water. There is something so very satisfying about cleanliness and order.
She drains the water and starts to dry the dishes in the rack next to the sink. Whatever was wrong with the taps can’t be that hard to fix… it only took him a few minutes, for goodness sake. All that money, but at least the water is running again. Peggy has a satisfied smile as she puts the cutlery away.
The plumber had almost not come this morning, not until she had promised to have the money from the previous bill ready for him before he started the work. And she had had to promise to pay him for today’s job before he left. Those days are behind me, now that I'm a landlady.
With the rent money, she’d also been able to put a little down at the grocery store, as well. Howard had been flustered when she handed him the funds to put on her account, and how he’d hemmed and hawed about accepting it. Fortunately, he’d not mentioned the proposal. And neither had she. She wasn’t going to be beholden to anyone if she could help it. Feeling flush, she’d indulged and bought a small bag of sweets for Tommy.
The tapping at the back door is so light she mistakes it for her own sounds of putting dishes away. Peggy rarely gets visitors; none of her foreign neighbors mix with her, or she with them. She’d envied Jack’s innate ability to mix with all people. The tenants had moved in this morning before they headed off to work, but all have keys. The plumber had come and gone. Perhaps he’d forgotten something? And, if this was her mother, she’d use the front door.
Peggy dries her hands on the dish towel and opens the door to a short, round woman, her head wrapped in a floral scarf. “Yes, can I help you?”
The woman twists the ends of the headscarf. “Missus Barnes, sorry to bother, but my boy, Oskar, h
e no home last night or night before. You see him?”
“Oh, Mrs. Leszek, isn’t it?” The Pole from down the street. Tommy’s friend’s mother. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t. Perhaps Oskar is at school?” Peggy blocks the doorway.
“No Missus, I go there first thing,” says Mrs. Leszek.
“Well, I don't know where he is. I’ll ask Tommy when he gets home from school.”
Mrs. Leszek steps onto the threshold, preventing Peggy from shutting the door. “Maybe, Missus, you could help me look for Oskar? Please?”
Peggy pushes against the door, preventing her neighbor from further entry. Her mother has trained her not to mix. She’s made a point of not getting to know her neighbors too well. But this woman needs assistance. The angel on her shoulder pulls one way, the devil the other; Peggy’s emotions swing between the two.
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