by D. L. Koontz
“Telephones,” he offered by way of a gentle correction as he followed her into the room, leaving the door open. “They’re in their infancy so the word is both a noun and a verb.”
She grinned and asked again, “What about telephones?”
“We’ll have to check it out later. When I first started coming here, they only had one at the front desk. Last time I was here, there were several for guests, throughout the facility. Perhaps more, by this time. Conveniences pop up every day in the twenties.”
He set her small bag of clothes on the bed. It was a richly carved double, covered with a blue wool spread that matched the drapes. Other furniture in the room were a nightstand, desk and chair, wardrobe closet about four feet wide, and a low-slung armoire topped by a mirror. Although not grand in Libby’s estimation, it was clean, pleasant, serviceable, and comfortable. The polished wooden floor was covered with an Oriental jewel-tone rug.
“Get settled in,” Davis suggested. “I’m in room 212. I’ll stop back to collect you in about an hour. We’ll tour the place then head into town so you can pick up other things you’ll need. You might want to make a list.” He handed her the massive book.
Libby read the title and smiled. “The Sears, Roebuck Catalog.”
“Thought it might be a good place for you to start learning what is and isn’t available. It won’t have everything, of course. There are many other products on the market. But it’ll give you a good idea.”
“I used to listen to old-timers on TV talk about using pages from the Sears Roebuck catalog for toilet paper during the Depression.”
Davis offered a toothless smile. “Let’s just make sure your investments prevent you from having to resort to that.” He turned to go, but stopped. “And by the way, you’ll notice you have your own bathroom. A luxury for some in this decade.”
Libby smiled. “Lucky me.”
“See you in an hour,” Davis said, stepping into the hallway.
Libby automatically looked at her wrist. No watch. “Wait. I won’t know when an hour has gone by.”
“Ahh, yes, no watch and no cell phone.” He stepped back into the room, crossed to the stand by her bed, and picked up a metal alarm clock. After reading the time on his pocket watch, he cranked the back of the clock to set the time, and returned it to the stand. “Be sure to wind it each day.”
She nodded and mimed a salute. “Right. Wind the clock each day.”
He smiled. “Add a watch to your list. They sell them in town, but they’re rather pricey. Your best bet will be to get one of those ladies’ time pieces that women wear like a necklace.”
“That won’t do for when I go running.”
He rubbed a line between his eyebrows. “Libby, running isn’t yet a popular activity among the ladies. Don’t get me wrong. In large cities you’ll see groups of women getting together to run. But I’m afraid here in the more rural areas, if people see you running they’ll think someone is chasing you.”
Libby dropped on the bed with a frown.
“You might want to take up tennis or golf. And, there’s always swimming. The hotel has an exceptional indoor pool.”
Libby ruled out golf and tennis immediately. Those activities would require another person.
She stood and walked to the small mahogany desk by the room’s only window. On it, she found a fountain pen and one piece of paper. She started a list, saying each item out loud for Davis’s benefit:
Stationery
Pens
Pencils
Watch
Swim suit and cover
Container for toiletries
Toiletries!
She whirled back to face him. “There, I’ve started. See you in an hour. And Davis,” she called before he shut the door, “thank you.”
He tipped his hat and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Libby dropped onto the bed again. Her new life had officially begun.
Chapter Nineteen
1926
Libby’s list of necessities grew quickly.
From the catalog, she learned that the cheapest watch would cost her seventeen dollars and seventy-five cents. Doing a quick calculation of inflation the way Davis had shown her (prompting her to wish again for the convenience of a calculator app on a cell phone), she discovered it would be equivalent to spending two hundred and thirty seven dollars in 2016. With a little more leafing through the pages, she discovered hair dryers were available–metal, of course—but they were large and clunky, weighing in at five pounds. The least expensive one, at four dollars and thirty-five cents, would set her back fifty-eight dollars in 2016. Her only choices in the catalog for a comb and brush were to purchase them in a set with other toiletries, all metal, and mother of pearl. Probably a good idea since she’d need things like a nail file and clippers anyway, but not at the price listed: twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents. She decided its 2016 equivalent, at three hundred and eighteen dollars, was too much to spend. Other items on her list: umbrella, underwear, hankies (because she couldn’t find disposable tissues), and walking shoes. By the time her list was complete, the total came to a whopping one hundred and fifteen dollars and fifty cents (2016 equivalent roughly one thousand, five hundred and forty-six dollars), and she began to appreciate plastic in a way she never had before.
“Better be a second-hand store in town,” she muttered to herself. She couldn’t afford to part with that much money yet.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to find a porter holding a ceramic jug. He looked like the kind, grandfatherly type with a smile that lit his face and a dimple under his lower lip. Several inches shorter than Libby, he had to lift his head to look in her eyes, and she noted that it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
“I heard you’ve had some unfortunate experiences with your luggage, ma’am. Thought I could at least bring you some water. You must be parched after your long trip.”
“How kind of you, Mr...?”
“Oliver Kenton, but please call me Oliver.” He walked to the empty water pitcher atop her dresser and poured the contents of his jug into the pitcher. “Heard you say you’ve been in Australia. Right envious I am, ma’am. Always wanted to see the other side of the world, but I don’t think these old bones could handle the long voyage now.”
“This is such a lovely place, why would you want to leave here anyway?” Libby offered, an effort to be cordial.
“Eh? Oh indeed ma’am.” He pulled a hankie from his left front pocked and wiped the few drops he spilled. Turning to her, he said, “I hope to make it home again one day, but I’m content for now.”
“Home?”
“Yes, ma’am. Vermont. My wife and I lived there our whole lives. Raised a family. I apprenticed as a watchmaker’s assistant, but was never very good at it. So, I taught myself finish work.”
“Finish work?”
“With wood, ma’am. Furniture, bookshelves, tables. That sort.”
Libby liked Oliver. He had an aura of kindness and optimism about him. Foremost, she liked proving to herself that she could successfully communicate and relate to people in this period. “How large is your family?”
“Just Vera and me now.” His smile faded. “Lost our son in the great war. France. A year later the influenza took our daughter.”
Libby felt her stomach clench. “How awful. That must have been very heart-breaking.”
“It was. Terribly lonely for us, for a long time. Didn’t see the point in living. But then we realized that it’s not over ’til God says it’s over. So, we made changes.” While he talked, he straightened her desk chair, pulled the drapes farther open, and yanked another blanket from the wardrobe and placed it on the foot of the bed.
“That’s when you came here?”
“Kept traveling south. When we discovered this place, with its mineral water, we decided to stay a couple months.” He laughed under his breath. “That was six years ago.”
“You both like it
here?”
He nodded. “What’s not to like? People come from all over the country to take the water. Makes for some interesting conversation.” He tilted his head and stared beyond her, a pensive look on his face. “Always wondered if that water could have helped my daughter.” He shook his head, restoring his smile and his focus. “Most people stay for short periods of time. Some all summer. A limited number of guests are here in fall and winter, so most of the hotel closes. No heat, you see. But yes, ma’am, we have all sorts stay. Writers, vaudeville stars, powerful businessmen, senators, several presidents.”
“Presidents?”
“Thomas Jefferson, James Polk, Zachary Taylor, Thaddeus Stevens, several others. James Buchanan made the Springs his summer White House. While he was here, the first trans-Atlantic cable message was sent to his room from Queen Victoria in 1858. In 1855, the hotel also housed the only Supreme Court hearing ever to be held outside of the capital. Some of our more affluent guests have included Henry Ford, Jay Gould, and Henry Wannamaker.” His face reddened. “Sorry, ma’am, I get a little excited about our history.”
Libby liked this man. Remembering the guidance Davis gave her, she said, “Oliver, I’m American. I was born here, as were both my parents. But, due to my extended stay in Australia, I’m afraid I’m a little unfamiliar with the local culture and colloquialisms. Even the routines of life in a place like this. May I pull you aside and ask your advice from time to time?”
He stood taller, a look of pleasure on his face, as though he liked being helpful. Being needed, Libby suspected.
“Definitely, ma’am. You just ask and I’ll help you figure your path.”
“Thank you.”
“I best be getting back to my duties.” He nodded and walked toward the door. After stepping into the hall, he turned and offered again, “Anything. You just ask. If my daughter were alive, I’d like to know that someone would help her if she found herself in a strange place.” He nodded again and left, shutting the door behind him.
Exactly one hour after he’d left, Davis knocked on her door.
The moment Libby saw him, she said, “Did you know you can order a house from the Sears catalog? An entire house!”
“And they’re quite nice too. I’ve seen several.” The distracted look on his face didn’t match his chipper voice.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened? It’s Jarvis isn’t it?”
He held up a quelling palm. “No, all is well in that respect. I’m afraid I can’t stay the night. I got a telegram. I’m needed at work as soon as possible. I’ll probably drive most of the night. These motorcars don’t offer the best when it comes to headlights. What would be a two-hour trip in 2016 is a four-hour trip now, even in bright daylight.”
Libby’s heart sank, but she stifled a visual reaction. Besides his responsibilities, the man had an aura of efficiency and accomplishment, and she’d delayed him enough. “I understand.”
“I’ll still take you into town. Show you how to get there. Help you tote back supplies. But, I’m afraid you’ll have to dine without me tonight.”
Libby took a deep breath, collected her purse, and followed him out the door.
They made a left into the next hallway where Libby saw Rose coming out of a room, a large bundle of sheets in her hand. Rose’s cheek was shiny red like a tomato with wisps of purple outlining the bone.
Libby turned to Davis. “May I have a moment? I want to ask Rose about some girl things before I go shopping.”
“I’ll collect the motorcar and meet you in front.”
The door to the next room was already open, so Libby followed Rose into it. The young maid wore a white pinafore and cap over a black dress uniform, and stopped from her work to curtsey. “You settled in, ma’am?”
“Thank you, I am. Please call me Libby,” she reminded Rose.
The girl looked horrified. “I can’t do that ma’am. You’re a guest and...well...we’re from different worlds. Different classes.”
“No, Rose—” she broke off, remembering that Davis would be waiting. “We’ll discuss this some other time.” She paused. “Are you doing better now?”
Rose stiffened and looked around, a concerned look on her face. “Yes, ma’am, but I’d rather not talk about it if ya don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Libby nodded. Another awkward moment passed as she regrouped her thoughts. “You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?”
“Twenty-one, ma’am.”
“You look much younger than your age. Especially for someone who must have spent time working outdoors on a farm.”
“Thank ye, ma’am.”
“May I ask what you use on your face?” At Rose’s look of surprise, Libby added, “It’s just that I’ve been living in Australia, remember? Things are rather different there. Different customs, different products.” Not to mention that the burgeoning cosmetics industry in this timeframe produced some rather nasty products that were dangerously unsafe.
Rose’s features softened, looking relieved at this blander topic. “Oh, yes, ma’am. Ma taught me to use a mixture of frankincense and whale oil. You can get it at the drug store in town, ya can. Oh, and always wear a hat to block the sun.”
A drug store? Libby felt another spark of joy. She had used frankincense on her face every day back in 2016.
Rose continued. “Ask for Hardin Lochery. He was an apothecary in England. We’re lucky to have him in our little area, we are. I hope he never leaves.” She reached out to knock on the wood doorway trim.
“Hardin Lochery. Got it.”
Libby walked away hoping Hardin was a pleasant person because she might become his best customer.
As Davis turned the motorcar onto Juliana Street, the main drag through Bedford, Libby’s heart thumped. She felt like an interloper on a movie set. The town looked like a colorized version of old black and white pictures that she’d once seen in a book about the Roaring Twenties. Along one side of the street stood the mercantile, and next to it a shoe repair shop with gold lettering on the windows. Farther down was a bank, a municipal building, a dentist’s office, and a church. A barbershop, a haberdashery, and a bicycle shop occupied the opposite side of the street, along with a few other small businesses and two-story homes, most made of brick, although she also spotted a couple wood and stone structures. Behind them were unpainted, unadorned sheds and tiny outhouses (fortunately, most of those appeared to be abandoned), vegetable patches, and clotheslines (everywhere). In front, scattered up and down both sides of the street, were horses and wagons tethered to hitching posts, old trucks, and at least a dozen motorcars parked haphazardly.
What Libby saw changed her earlier impression of Bedford, an assumption that the town had grown up near the mineral springs simply to support the guests and activity there. However, what she saw made her realize the town had evolved regardless of the precious water.
Most of the pedestrians passing by, crossing the street, and wandering from store to store, wore shabbier, duller clothing than the apparel worn at the hotel. The people themselves looked different, too. Their postures and the creases on their faces spoke of harried, harder times than the wealthier set she’d been exposed to that morning. In town, the women’s clothing tended to be longer, and fit looser, as though practicality, not fashion, was foremost on their minds. Several young girls passed by in feedsack dresses. Many of the men and boys wore patched bib overalls, or pants held in place with suspenders or twine.
After she and Davis visited the mercantile where Libby discovered she could buy everything from packaged noodles to bolts, they returned to the car to deposit her purchases.
Davis turned to her. “The telegraph office is several blocks that way. I need to send a message to work. Tell them I’ll return.”
It was none of her business, but Libby couldn’t help asking, “Why don’t you just call...err, telephone them? You said there are telephones at our hotel.”
“There are. And the charge to use them is less than sending
a telegram. But, the problem is privacy. I can tip the young man at the telegraph office to keep mum about my business. I can’t do that on the telephone.” He took her arm and moved closer, dropping his volume. “Remember, telephones are tied to switchboards these days. Those young ladies can get quite bored, so they listen to conversations. One is a county commissioner’s daughter.” He shot her a you-get-my-point look.
“Ahh.” Libby brushed her hand in a go-ahead motion. “I see the drug store down the street. I’ll be there.”
Davis pulled out his pocket watch. “Tell you what, get out that fancy new watch you bought and put it to some use. See that restaurant on the corner?” He pointed beyond the drug store. “Nell’s. I’ll meet you there for lunch at one o’clock.”
Libby grinned. The watch she’d found at the general store cost her two dollars and seventy-five cents, and was anything but fancy. Still, she had bought it because it was certainly better than the prices she’d seen on the finer watches in the catalog. “One it is.”
Bells tinkled as Libby entered the drug store. It was narrow from left to right, but stretched front to back at least sixty or seventy feet. Wood shelves ran the length on both sides, and much to Libby’s delight, the right counter was interrupted midway by a soda fountain. She’d seen them in the movies. Two children sat slurping drinks through straws beside a solitary man, who had parked his cap on the counter.
“Excuse me,” she said to the young man behind the counter. “I’m looking for Hardin Lochery.”
He pointed to a man standing by a multitude of empty glass bottles, toward the back of the store. Around him were the tell-tale signs of an apothecary—dried herbs and flowers dangling from pegs, and on the shelves: jars of oils, orange and lemon peels, bottles of cinnamon and varied beans, glass beakers, flasks, scales, and copious leather-bound books on botany.