May 8, 1957
Georgie called last evening. He will be here Friday night. Will spend Saturday and Sunday and go to San Francisco late Sunday afternoon to be there for his class on Monday morning. I have been sprucing the place up and even changed the sheets on the bed in the other bedroom. I borrowed the vacume from school and even washed the windows.
I told Vera and she wants us both to dinner Sunday after church. I asked her to make Swiss steak and she said I could break off my diet for that day because it was a special occasion, so I asked for pecan pie too.
I am excited to see Georgie on an occasion that somebody hasn’t died.
May 11, 1957
Georgie is still asleep so I am having coffee and taking time to write this. We talked ‘til nearly midnight last night. He is so proud of his son. Showed me pictures in his wallet and gave me one he brought along. He is doing well with the bank and said if this training in San Francisco goes well he might be made a vice president. I told him his grandfather would be proud to have another banker in the family.
You’d never believe it but I think he is a lot like me. If he would let himself go a little bit I bet he would be a lot of fun. I worry he doesn’t kick up his heels enough. All work and no play... Who am I to talk about cutting up? I should have been more like him.
It’s a little past nine and I think I hear him stirring. I’m going to take him to the café and show him off to the boys down there and let Walter cook him breakfast.
May 12, 1957
It was sure hard to say good-bye. Georgie left around four o’clock. We had a real good visit. He said Vera was a wonderful woman and he was happy for me. Vera’s Swiss steak would win over anybody. I was up half the night with heartburn, but it was sure good goin’ down.
Georgie said he would send me tickets for the train to come down for a visit before the wedding and we could all come back together. He joked that after I got married Vera would have plenty of money for the both of us. He has a wicked sense of humor when he lets it go. He wants me to see their new house and his bank.
Last night just before bed I gave him my father’s gold watch. Through hell and high water that old Waltham has pulled through. Its ticker is in better shape than mine I expect. George teared up and said he would treasure it as long as he lived and would make sure that Cole gets it when he grows up.
I surely do love that son of mine.
Cole’s eye’s burned and he swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. The rest of the book was blank. He set it down on the cushion beside him and laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. He thought of the photos that Lottie showed him. The faces of people he never met seemed three feet tall as they came across his mind like they were somehow projected onto the ceiling above. Mattie smiling softly into the camera, his grandfather’s devil-may-care grin as he sat proudly next to the woman he loved. Alma’s glare at her children from the porch like Margaret Hamilton’s Almira Gulch, and Mattie’s girls, so loved and so lost to the ones who loved them. Cole closed his eyes and brought his parents’ faces up in his memory. All of the faces, like the wisp of smoke from a candle’s snuffed wick, disappeared as he drifted to sleep with his family’s hazy presence all around him.
TWENTY-SIX
Wednesday morning Cole woke with a start. He had been dreaming. Not a pleasant dream either. He was back in Chicago digging through the shattered rubble of the Classified office at the Sentinel. One by one he turned over the bodies of the victims and they had no faces. Not that the bomb blew them away but more like a tight featureless mask was drawn over their faces, and not that he knew them all, but many worked at the paper as long as he had. He sat up in bed, and began saying the names of the women who worked in that office, but for reasons he didn’t understand he couldn’t remember their faces.
Cole got up and showered. He couldn’t shake the feeling he let the victims down somehow. It was almost three years since he left Chicago. San Francisco was now home and day by day the things that were such an important part of his life for so many years were fading away. Much like the night he came back from Topeka; when as he drifted to sleep, he struggled to play the mental video of his parents. Their faces faded in and out and their images shifted and became other people from other times and places.
It was eight-thirty when Cole sat down at the kitchen table with his toast and mocha. Georgia called the night before. She figured they would arrive about eleven. They were early risers and planned to get on the road right away.
Cole was dying to read a newspaper. Most of the time he was in Orvin he hadn’t thought about it much, but as the time drew closer to going home, and finding himself with little to do, the company of his morning paper was sorely missed. For a news junkie, twenty-eight days of only getting sketches of world events and pop culture from the three minute “Top of the Hour” newscast on the oldies radio station was about as much as he could stand. He determined to call Chuck Waddell later and give him his ideas about a series of articles on his finding Lottie and the story of the notebooks.
He spent the better part of Monday and Tuesday organizing the journals, making notes, and starting an outline of the book that would become the story of George Sage. Cole smiled to think of how he threw away the first three or four outlines. Phrases quickly scribbled before they vanished, drafts of introductions and attempts to summarize ideas for the book, none that worked the way he wanted.
His usual style was to sit down at the keyboard and just start banging away at the story. Outlines and formal structure came after he was well into the “flow” of the piece. This time was different. He was working from someone else’s text, the draft was written. The story was complete, beginning, middle and end.
“Hey, you up?” Ernie’s voice boomed through the front door screen.
“In here!”
“So where’s this aunt of yours?”
“On her way. Be here about noon,” Cole said, as Ernie entered the room. “Have a sit.”
“On my way to get the bread started. Hey, bring them in for lunch! On me,” Ernie offered.
“We just might do that. Thanks.”
“Is that all you’re going to eat? A piece of toast and a cup of coffee for breakfast?”
“Except when I have a fresh bagel from the bakery around the corner from my house,” Cole said, taking a bite of toast.
“You sound homesick.”
“I think I’m getting there.”
“When are you going back?”
“Friday will be thirty days.”
“The hell you say. Already?” Ernie frowned.
“Time flies...” Cole’s voice trailed off.
“So, you’re bringin’ the aunt for lunch, huh?”
“My cousin will be along too.”
“Sure, sure. She single?”
“Always on the make. Single and pretty. Too tall for you though I think,” Cole said not looking up. And black, he thought.
“What? I’m a midget now?” Ernie pushed.
“No, she’s about five ten, eleven maybe.”
“The hell you say. How old is she?”
“What, I’m a matchmaker now?” Cole said mockingly. “Fifty-one, two maybe? Not sure.”
“I’ll reserve a table,” Ernie said standing.
“Was there something you needed? You may be forgetting things in your old age.”
“Nah, I just hadn’t seen you since Sunday and wanted to say hello.” Ernie was already to the kitchen door. “See you at noon,” he said over his shoulder.
Cole got up and unplugged his cell phone from the charger and dialed Chuck Waddell. Three rings and the voice mail message came on. Cole didn’t leave a message. He scrolled down to Erin’s home number; six rings and Jenny’s voice came on asking that you leave a message. He dialed Erin’s cell number; “not in service at this time”. He laid the cell phone back on the counter.
At twelve-fifteen the cell phone buzzed, hummed and vibrated its way toward the edge of the coun
ter. Cole ran from the front room just in time to keep it from hitting the floor. Lottie and Georgia were on the edge of town at the Quickie Mart asking for directions. Cole told them he would meet them in about ten minutes and to sit tight.
When Cole pulled into the parking lot of the Quickie Mart, Georgia was standing, leaning on the back of the car. She was wearing a pair of beige walking shorts and a turquoise tank top. She was thinner than he realized. Her sunglasses were pushed back on top of her head. Cole smiled. “She’s a pretty lady,” he said, turning down the radio.
“Hi! Where’s your mom?” Cole asked, pulling up next to Georgia’s car.
“Buying out the store I expect,” Georgia laughed.
“Did you have a nice drive?”
“Very nice, thank you. I’ve never been this direction before.”
“Hungry?” Cole asked hopefully.
“Starved.”
Cole was about to suggest lunch at Ernie’s when he heard his name coming from in front of the store. “Hello Cole, we made it!”
Lottie was making her way to his window, a small bag in her crossed arms. She looked ten years younger than she did in Topeka. Her hair was done and she was wearing a pale lipstick.
“Picked up a few things. How are you?” Lottie smiled broadly as she reached his window.
“Thrilled to see you again. How about getting a bite of lunch before we head for the house? We can pick the car up later. It will be safe here,” Cole said, getting out to open the door for her.
“Sounds wonderful.”
The sandwich shop was crowded and Ernie was rushing about talking to himself, the customers and the equipment in the kitchen. In the middle of a table near the back corner was a small “Reserved for C. Sage” sign and a vase of fresh cut flowers. Lottie spotted it first and made her way to the table. Georgia and Cole went to order. As they stood in line Cole explained that Ernie was his neighbor and how helpful he was when he came to town.
The man in front of them turned and poked the side of his head with his index finger and asked if the guy behind the counter was “all there”.
Cole laughed and said, “There is no extra charge for the entertainment.” The man wasn’t amused.
“He’s gotten too busy,” Cole whispered to Georgia. “He needs counter help, but nobody passes the Ernie Kappas customer relations test.”
“He keeps this up it won’t matter.” Georgia frowned as she leaned close to Cole. “This is a mighty tough business, poor guy.”
Two Reubens, a Turkey with avocado, a Bacon and Cheddar and a quart of chili later, Cole and Georgia stood at the counter. Ernie greeted Cole a few minutes before with his traditional rigid jerk of his head.
“Ernie, this is my cousin Georgia.”
“Hello,” Georgia offered.
Ernie stood motionless.
Cole broke the silence. “How about a cup of your corn chowder and a half turkey sandwich for my aunt? I’ll have the Reuben. Georgia, what are you going to do?”
“Call a doctor if he don’t breathe soon.”
Ernie blinked several times and with a deeply furrowed brow said, “Half turkey, corn chowder and a Reuben.” He just stared at Georgia.
“I’ll have the Feta Cheese Stuffed Grape Leaves.”
“Got it. Have a seat.” Ernie turned around and put both hands on the counter behind him. His head hung below his shoulders. Cole did not follow Georgia to the table.
“Ernie, you OK?”
Ernie walked into the kitchen and Cole followed without saying a word. Ernie motioned Cole to the corner of the room near the freezers.
“You let me go on and on the other day about not liking blacks and all, and never said you have black folks in your family? I feel like a fool,” Ernie said, in a hoarse whisper.
“First of all, you should feel stupid. You’re a recovering bigot. Secondly, at the time I didn’t even know they were alive. So get over it and fix our food. I been bragging it up.”
“That’s it? You’re just gonna go and eat?” Ernie pleaded.
“What do you want me to do, punch you in the nose? It won’t make them any whiter for you. Get over it.” Cole slapped Ernie hard on the side of his shoulder and left the kitchen.
The place had nearly cleared out. It was a few minutes after one and the lunch crowd was back to work. One couple sat near the windows sipping their drinks and chatting. Lottie leaned over and smelled the flowers. A quiet calm came over the shop.
“Your friend is a strange fella,” Georgia said, fishing for an explanation.
“You’re not quite what he expected,” Cole said with a big grin.
Georgia laughed heartily. “Surprise, surprise!”
Cole got up and went behind the counter. He grabbed three cups and put a scoop of ice in each.
“What would you like to drink ladies?”
“Diet Coke,” replied Georgia.
“Ice tea for me!” Lottie called out.
Cole filled two cups with Diet Coke and one with tea. He got a slice of lemon from the cooler tray.
“Service with a smile,” Lottie said, as Cole set the drinks on the table.
Moments later Ernie came through the swinging kitchen door. He put a cup of steaming soup in front of Lottie and a plate of Stuffed Grape Leaves, rice and salad in front of Georgia. “Be right back,” he said, and hustled back to the kitchen. Moments later he returned with Cole’s Reuben and Lottie’s turkey sandwich.
“Join us!” Cole ordered.
“Yes! Please do join us,” said Lottie sweetly. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Ernie wiped his hands on his apron and looked about the nearly vacant shop. Offering his hand to Lottie he said, “We haven’t officially met. I’m Ernie Kappas; I guess you know this is my place.”
“It is very nice.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Ernie offered his hand to Georgia.
“Nice to meet you.” Georgia smiled. “Cole tells me you didn’t know there was a nigger in the wood pile.”
“Georgia!” Lottie exclaimed sitting bolt upright.
Ernie nearly choked. Cole said something under his breath no one heard and Georgia gave Ernie a big Cheshire cat grin.
“I, uh,” Ernie tried to respond.
“That’s OK Ernie, I never figured Cole for having a Greek friend either.”
“Alright, lunch at last,” Cole said brightly.
Lottie took a spoonful of soup from the cup, blew across it and sipped. “My goodness, Mr. Kappas, this is delicious!” she offered, trying to change the subject.
“Secret family recipe,” Ernie said, nodding his head in respect to Lottie.
“Georgia, honey, you must taste this. My daughter is quite a cook you know.”
“The hell you say.”
Lottie eyes flashed across at Ernie, and Georgia smiled at her mother’s reaction.
“Let’s have a taste,” Georgia said, reaching out to take a spoonful of the soup. She rolled the soup around in her mouth and closed her eyes and smacked her lips quietly. “So Ernie, which is the secret ingredient, the cumin or the marjoram?” Georgia opened her eyes and gave Ernie a sweet smile.
Ernie threw his head back and laughed with unbridled delight. “Will you marry me?”
It was Cole’s turn to nearly choke. He looked at Ernie who was blushing beet red.
“How did you do that? You are amazing.” Ernie was gushing with admiration.
“Mama told you I was a cook.” Georgia smiled shyly. Her reaction was not lost on her mother who sat silently watching the sudden strange chemistry between her daughter and this rough hairy man in the stained apron.
Cole leaned back and listened as his friend Ernie began telling Georgia how long he wanted to have a shop, and how Cole showed him that anyone can have their dreams come true if they only believe in themselves. Cole sat in amazement at the wisdom he was credited for and things he couldn’t remember ever saying. As Ernie spoke, Georgia sat eating but never taking her eyes
off him. As Cole stole a glance at Lottie she winked at him.
“So tell me about your cooking,” Ernie said.
Georgia began by complimenting Ernie on the grape leaves, the salad dressing and how fluffy the rice was. She told of getting the job in the diner where she always took lunch breaks. Recipes, stories of regular customers and her ideas on how her boss could improve things flowed. Even when Lottie excused herself to go to the washroom, the only reaction was an “uh-huh” from Georgia.
The rattle of ice in Cole’s cup came at a pause in Georgia’s story. Ernie and Georgia both looked at him and then Lottie’s empty seat.
“Where’s Mama?”
“Restroom.”
“Sandwich OK?” Ernie asked.
There was an uneasy silence. Georgia self-consciously picked at the last small piece of meat sticking out from under a grape leaf. The sound of Lottie’s steps came across the room. “I think I’ll wash my hands,” Georgia said slipping out of her chair.
“Yakkity, yakkity yak,” Cole said, turning his head to the side and giving Ernie a “what’s that all about” look.
“Nice lady.”
“For a black woman,” Cole said.
“You never let up do you?”
“Just keeping track.” Cole smiled. “You might just be smarter than you look.”
“The hell you say. Well let me tell you something ‘Mr. San Francisco, I know more than everybody else’. I can...”
“If I didn’t know better I say you boys were having words,” Lottie said, taking her seat.
“No ma’am!” Ernie said standing. “We were just having a friendly...”
“Ernie and I like to compare notes on how life’s highway is never what we think it is going to be. Ernie was just about to tell me that I seem to always know more than he does. Isn’t that right Ern’?”
“Ma’am, your nephew is a real pain in the... I mean to say he...”
“Do you think she’s pretty Ernie?” Lottie said, coming to his rescue.
“Who? I mean yes. I think she...”
Cole Dust Cole Page 37
