She hoped she could catch a direct bus without too much waiting, especially on the homeward trip. Her first concert rehearsal was tonight, and she still had to go over the music. Fortunately, Rev. Baker was dropping it off at their apartment this afternoon, which saved her a trip to the church.
For nearly an hour, she lost herself in the pleasure of baking. It wasn't something she did often or particularly well, but rolling dough and cutting out the cookies brought back joyful memories of helping her mother. Now she had to time the baking so the cookies didn't get too brown. The vintage gas stove that came with the apartment left a lot to be desired, so she'd have to check the oven frequently to be sure nothing burned. She couldn't afford to waste time or ingredients, especially when she wanted nice cookies for Eliot's party.
“What are you doing?” her husband asked in a groggy voice, coming into the kitchen.
“I didn't hear the alarm,” she said. She didn't answer his question because she obviously was making cookies.
“I woke up a few minutes early and turned it off.”
He sat down at the table in his tattered woolen robe, one he'd had long before they met. Louise wished she could afford to get him a new one for Christmas, maybe something spiffy with velvet lapels, but it was out of the question this year. They were putting aside a part of his salary every payday, hoping to save enough for a down payment on a house. They were already outgrowing their tiny two-bedroom apartment, and soon they'd need more space and a yard for Cynthia to play. All they had now was a pad of cement in back of the brownstone. When spring came, Louise expected to spend a lot of time pushing her daughter's buggy back and forth to the nearest park.
“I'll scramble an egg for you as soon as I put this last batch in,” Louise said, peering into the oven to see if a pan was ready to take out.
“No hurry,” Eliot said. “I'll take a bath and shave first so you have more time to finish. Did you get any sleep last night? I must have slept through the feedings.”
“Enough to get by on,” Louise assured him, although she felt bone-weary.
With her small kitchen counter covered with cooling cookies, Louise used her last egg to make her husband's breakfast. Fortunately, she was satisfied with a bowl of corn flakes for herself. In fact, she was too tired to bother with eating, but Eliot would be concerned if she didn't join him for the morning meal. They'd always enjoyed talking over their plans for the day before he had to leave for work.
“I'm going to Wanamaker's to buy material this afternoon,” she said. “Maxine agreed to watch Cynthia. She's the only person I'd trust to watch our baby, at least in Philadelphia.”
Eliot put down his toast and raised his eyebrows. “Is it really necessary to go that far for a piece of cloth?”
Her husband was rarely critical, and Louise knew it was a fair question. The round-trip bus ride and the higher prices at the huge department store were expenses they didn't need, but he didn't understand how important the stocking was.
“I've already checked every place close by. I wouldn't make the trip if I could find something special closer to home,” she said.
“I still think Cynthia could wait until next Christmas,” he said mildly. It was as close to criticism as he ever got.
“It's important to me, as a way to honor my mother,” she said in a quiet voice.
The last thing she wanted was to add to their financial woes, but she was always careful with money. Her parents had lived a frugal life on a minister's pay, but her mother had still managed to carry on the family's Christmas traditions, even when she had two daughters and a third on the way. Louise didn't see how she could do less.
Eliot nodded and said no more, but Louise could sense his concerns.
“I've saved up enough from the birthday money my father gave me,” she said, not adding that she'd also been very frugal in her grocery shopping.
It was an uncomfortable feeling, not being totally honest with Eliot. They both had been forthcoming throughout their courtship and marriage so far, but she had saved her birthday money to spend as she liked. After buying a nice sweater vest for Eliot's Christmas gift, she had a bit left. As tired as she was, she was determined to do the things her mother had done for her daughters.
Her friendly neighbor tapped on the door at exactly 2:00 pm, as promised. Maxine was a young, unmarried nurse who worked different hours every week. Fortunately, she was on the night shift today.
“I can't tell you how much I appreciate this,” Louise said to the pretty dark-haired woman. “I promise not to be gone any longer than necessary.”
“You don't need to hurry back,” her friend said. “I've been dying to spend time with your beautiful daughter. I went into nursing because I love babies, but so far the hospital has me working with adult surgery patients. I'm still hoping for an assignment in the newborn nursery.”
Cynthia made her presence known with a loud wail, making it hard for her mother to leave.
“I'll get her,” Maxine said. “You run along. Baby Cynthia will be fine.”
“I wrote down her schedule and where to find everything.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“And here's the number of her pediatrician, just in case—”
“We'll manage,” Maxine said with a broad smile. “I have a feeling Cynthia will make her needs known.”
“Undoubtedly,” Louise said. As much as Louise wanted to shop for material, she was finding it hard to actually walk out the door. “This is the first time I've left her with anyone but my husband,” she said, forcing a weak smile.
“We'll be right here when you get back.”
After one more loving glance at her daughter, Louise hurried out into the frigid air. The bus stop was only a few blocks away, but she was thoroughly chilled by the time the bus came, spewing out exhaust that made her wrinkle her nose. At least the interior was warm, and she took one of the many worn leather seats available at this time of day. She did hope she wouldn't have to ride home standing and hanging onto one of the straps. Maybe if she hurried with her shopping, she could still beat the after-work crush.
At least she was able to exit the bus close to the store's entrance. Even though the department store had lost some of its early grandeur, she still enjoyed going in through the Grand Court, where a huge bronze eagle had become a city icon. If she weren't in a hurry and strapped for cash, she would've loved to have a hot chocolate in the Crystal Tea Room. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to admire the Renaissance décor or wander the many departments.
She made her way to the yard goods section. The cloth on display didn't disappoint. In fact, there were so many choices, Louise wasn't sure where to look first. She wandered through the rows of fabric displayed on bolts, stopping to admire some especially lovely brocades laced with gold threads. The material was too heavy for Cynthia's stocking, but it was a pleasure to see it.
A whole aisle was devoted to Christmas fabrics, including some quilted patterns, but Louise changed her mind about using one of them when she saw a lovely crimson velvet.
“Isn't this delightful,” a stout woman said as she fingered the fabric that had caught Louise's eye. “But I guess my husband would rather have a nice wool for the robe I'm making him for Christmas.”
Louise was glad the other woman passed up the red velvet. She picked up the bolt to carry it to the long table where clerks cut the cloth to size, but first she needed a different fabric for the lining. She found it as soon as she walked down the next aisle. A beautiful forest-green satin caught her eye, and she knew it would be perfect.
Both fabrics were pricey, but at least matching thread wasn't. Louise had to do some mental arithmetic to be sure she had enough money. Fortunately, she could pay for everything and still have bus money to get home. She waited behind several other customers for her turn, but finally she had exactly the right fabric in a distinctive Wanamaker's shopping bag.
On the bus ride home, she was fortunate to snag a seat. Hugging her purse and her pur
chases against her chest, she felt drowsiness catch up with her. She closed her eyes to rest them for a minute.
The woman in the window seat excused herself and stepped over Louise's feet, doing her a big favor by waking her just blocks from her stop. She hadn't even noticed when the bus stopped for more passengers, and there were a lot of people hanging from straps on the lurching vehicle. She stood and weaved her way through the standing riders, clasping at seat backs to keep her balance, to make sure she didn't miss getting off at the right place.
When she got back to the apartment, Maxine was rocking a contented baby, but she was quick to mention Cynthia's colic.
“She was cranky, but she finally calmed down. At least it gave me an excuse to keep holding her,” Maxine said.
Louise's arms ached to hold her, but first she had to take off her coat and show the beautiful fabric to her friend.
“This is really special,” Maxine agreed. “Will it be hard to sew? I'm not very good at using my mother's machine.”
Louise hadn't given that any thought. She had only thought about making a beautiful Christmas stocking her daughter would always cherish, just as Louise did with the one her mother had made for her.
“I guess I'll have to be very careful with it,” Louise said before profusely thanking her friend.
“Oh, your minister dropped off a folder of music for you,” she said as she surrendered Cynthia and began putting on her coat. “You don't have to thank me. I adore your baby. Call me anytime you need someone to watch her.”
Her friend left, and Cynthia was sleeping contentedly in her crib. Louise's fingers itched to begin sewing, but she'd been gone longer than expected. Eliot would be home soon, and she had to come up with something for his supper before she left for the first concert rehearsal. She frantically checked her refrigerator and cupboard, but the best she could do in a hurry was open a can of tomato soup and make sandwiches. The frosting on the cookies had been drying all afternoon, and she needed to store the decorated cookies in the tin cans she'd saved for that purpose, and she still needed to look over the selections for the concert.
How did her mother make Christmas perfect with so many demands on her time? Louise didn't know, but she was still determined to follow in her footsteps.
Heavy gray clouds hung over the city like smoke from a massive bonfire. Peeking up at the sky from her kitchen window, Louise hoped it wouldn't snow until she got home from the concert rehearsal. Their aging two-door sedan was fine for getting Eliot to and from work, but she didn't trust it when she was driving in bad weather.
“I'm home.” Her husband called out the most welcome words of the day as he came into the apartment. “How are my little women?”
He said the same thing every time he came home, but Louise loved to hear it. And, thankfully, he said it quietly enough not to wake Cynthia, who was finally napping.
“She's sleeping, bless her heart,” Louise said, taking her husband's worn gabardine overcoat and hanging it up for him. He never expected her to wait on him, but she loved doing little things for him.
“How was your day?” he asked, walking to the kitchenette, where she had hastily assembled a meal of canned tomato soup and ham sandwiches on pumpernickel bread.
“Maxine watched Cynthia. She was fussy—the baby, not Maxine—but now she's sleeping soundly. I hope she'll be good for you while I'm at the rehearsal.”
“We'll be fine,” Eliot assured her, knowing she worried every time the baby was out of her sight.
“I bought the most beautiful material,” Louise said, taking the bag off the table to show him.
“Very nice,” he said, hardly glancing at it.
She didn't expect him to share her appreciation of the fabric, but she'd hoped for a little more enthusiasm.
“You don't like it.”
“Of course, I do,” he was quick to say. “I'm just afraid you're taking on too much, especially since you agreed to take over the concert.”
My mother could do more than this, Louise thought, but she didn't want to argue the point with her husband.
Cynthia woke up with indignant howls before they finished dinner, but Eliot volunteered to take care of her so Louise could get ready to leave. Before she could change into her blue wool skirt and white pullover sweater, he had to call on her for help with a bottle.
“The nipple doesn't seem to be working,” he said. He sounded frustrated, and Louise knew it was because their daughter wasn't patient about waiting when she was hungry.
“I sterilized extra,” Louise said. “Just switch them.”
By the time Cynthia was happy with her bottle, Louise had to leave. She would've liked time to do her hair with the curling iron and then put on makeup, but it was more important to get to the church a few minutes early. She always felt more organized if she didn't rush in at the last minute.
Fortunately, the snow held off, although the wind was bitterly cold, cutting through her good navy wool coat and chilling her to the bone. The custodian had left the lights and heat on for the rehearsal, but she kept her coat on until she felt warm.
The comfortable quiet in the sanctuary invited a few moments of silent prayer in a front pew. Louise knew how much she had to be grateful for, especially her loving husband and beautiful new daughter. The words of her prayer came easily, interrupted after a brief interlude by the arrival of the pianist for the concert.
“Louise, I'm so glad you agreed to direct the concert,” Mary Grogan said, vigorously rubbing her slender hands together to warm them.
“It's a privilege and a pleasure,” Louise said. “Thank heavens you're accompanying on the piano.”
She genuinely admired the tall, thin, older woman, although she had a reputation for being eccentric. Louise knew it was mainly due to the way she dressed, which mostly included black, black and more black.
“How do you like the selections?” Mary asked, arranging her music on the piano.
“I'm pleased, especially with ‘Lo, How a Rose ‘ere Blooming.' It's not usually included in Christmas programs.”
“You and I know it's an advent hymn,” Mary said with a smile, “but it's a wonderful addition to the program.
Several choir members came into the church together, and others soon followed. Louise felt a bit intimidated to be directing people who had much more experience than she did, but music had always been very important to her. It had brought Eliot and her together when she was his student, and she couldn't imagine a time when it wasn't a major part of her life.
“I'm sorry Mrs. Taylor was injured in a fall,” Louise said when everyone had arrived. “She has a broken arm, and there's no possibility she'll be able to direct the concert. For those who don't know me, I'm Louise Smith. I'll do my best to carry on, although I don't pretend I can take her place.”
“We're very happy to have you,” a woman named Naomi said, echoed by several other voices.
Once they got into the rehearsal, Louise's nervousness passed. Although she wished there'd been more time to prepare, she was reasonably satisfied with the way things went until one of the sopranos started coughing so hard she couldn't continue. Several other choir members coughed from time to time, and Louise began to worry about the health of the participants. What would happen to the concert if a flu epidemic hit the group?
“We'll follow the schedule Mrs. Taylor made,” Louise said when the rehearsal was over. “I hope you'll all pray to stay healthy. If your throats are a little raspy, you might try hot tea with lemon and honey when you get home. Thank you so much for coming.”
Louise had to wait until everyone left before turning out the lights and locking the side door the choir members used. Mary left with her so they could walk to their cars together. Thankfully the pianist hadn't been coughing during the rehearsal.
“I hope you stay healthy,” Louise said. “I don't think I can direct and play the piano.
“Let's hope you won't have to,” Mary said, unlocking her car, which was parked next to Louis
e's. “And thank you again for taking over.”
Hard pellets of icy snow hit the windshield as Louise drove home, and their snug little apartment had never seemed more welcoming. She came in with her head scarf and coat damp and her fingers stiff from the cold. The heater in their car didn't work very well, but they'd been avoiding a potentially costly trip to the garage.
Eliot was pacing the floor with a sleeping baby, but his face was lined with weariness.
“How did it go?” he asked, gingerly carrying Cynthia to her crib.
“Fine, except a soprano had a coughing fit, and several others seemed to be having trouble too. Fortunately, it's a large choir. We'll be okay if not too many people get sick.”
“I've had a few students down with the flu,” Eliot said. “Hope it's not an epidemic. It's not a good sign the papers have given it a name: Asian flu. Says it hit last it in the late 1950s.”
“How was Cynthia?” Louise shook out her coat before hanging it up.
“She cried most of the evening.”
“You look exhausted. Why don't you go to bed?”
“Good idea. I have one more exam to give in the morning, and I'm not done correcting the last one. Come join me before our precious little soprano wakes up again.”
“I want to cut out the stocking first. If I do a little at a time, it will be done by Christmas,” Louise said.
Eliot sighed, a strong sign of disapproval for him.
“Tomorrow is another day,” he said.
“I won't be long. I'll just lay out the material and pin on the pattern I've already drawn. You go ahead.”
Before he could leave their living area, Cynthia started whimpering, building up to a loud howl before Louise could pick her up.
“When did you last feed her?” she asked.
“When you left. Do you want me to handle this one?”
He sounded so weary Louise didn't even consider his offer.
“No, go to bed. I had a little nap.” She didn't mention it happened by accident on the bus ride home.
Tales from Grace Chapel Inn Page 8