Marie followed suit and ate her breakfast in silence with the others. When she was done, she exited the dining room, went out the front door, and walked around to the back of the house. She sat on one of several benches in the middle of a flower bed. The morning air was rich with the fragrance of the flowers and birds singing. She closed her eyes, and for a brief moment, the peacefulness caused her to falsely feel carefree.
“May I join you?” the older man from the breakfast table asked.
Marie opened her eyes. “Yes, of course.”
“I’m Earl Jennings.” He reached for her hand, then raised it up to his lips and kissed it. “And you are?”
“Marie Costa.” The man had incredibly warm eyes.
“You looked uncomfortable at the breakfast table.”
“I just wondered why no one was talking.”
“One of Rita’s house rules. No talking during breakfast. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you that before you checked in.”
“No, she didn’t mention that.” Marie found his quaintness intriguing. “Do you know why?”
“No. Just one of her eccentricities, I suppose. She has many of them.” He leaned back on the bench and stretched out his legs. “I’ve been coming here for twelve years, back in the day when her husband was still alive. She was eccentric then, too.” His smile was sincere and contagious. “How long will you be staying here, Miss Costa?”
“Until I find something more permanent, I suppose. Rita gave me a lead on something yesterday that I need to follow up on.”
“She knows this town, and you can trust her with anything she tells you. I’ll say that for her.”
“How often do you come here, Mr. Jennings?”
“Twice a year. One week each time. Once in the winter on the anniversary of my wife’s death, and the other this time of year when all the spring flowers and trees are in bloom. It’s a nice little town. I love coming back here.”
“Where do you live?”
“Kansas City. I have a law practice there.”
“What kind of law do you practice, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Criminal law. I have two other partners. Not that you would ever need our services, but here’s my card.” Jennings, Piper, and Much, it read.
“Must be an interesting business.”
“It can be. Right now I’m representing a young man who innocently got mixed up with the Chicago Outfit. Didn’t know who was dealing with and before he knew it he was knee deep in labor racketeering.”
Marie’s heart fluttered. “The Chicago Outfit is in Kansas City?”
“Oh, yes. They’re in many other cities besides Chicago.”
“I didn’t know that.”
His face lit up. “Ever hear of Nick Civella?”
“No. I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, he’s the top guy in Kansas City. Was very tight with Capone.”
“I see.” Marie’s heart sank halfway to her knees. She thought she had gotten far enough away from all that. “I find this all very fascinating, Mr. Jennings. What other towns are there Chicago Outfit members?”
“Oh, I’m not sure of that. Certainly Milwaukee and Madison. But I’ve heard they’re as far away as California.”
The two spoke for another half hour before Marie excused herself. She could have stayed much longer in the garden with Mr. Jennings, but income and housing were more pressing.
CHAPTER 17
The Coach House
Marie sat on the love seat in her room and stared out the window, not focused on anything in particular. First Libertyville and now Atchison. Two opportune places to start over but too close for comfort. How far did she have to go to get completely away from him? She pictured herself hiding in some remote town in the hills of Nowheresville, living in a ramshackle of a house, going into town in some sort of hideous disguise only when she needed supplies, talking to no one. She laughed out loud at her own preposterous thoughts…hoping that’s all they were.
Atchison, Kansas. She took her newspaper to the bench in front of the local pharmacy and looked at the want ads. The initial $500 she had left was dwindling fast, and it didn’t help matters that she had given her potential Chicago landlord seventy dollars of it for the first month’s rent. Seventy dollars was a lot of money.
The want ads were a small section, and nothing stood out. Only the telephone operator position at the local phone company, Southwestern Bell, made sense. She pictured rows of operators sitting in one big room in the bowels of some old building, mere voices on the other end of a phone line, otherwise hidden from the rest of the world. Suddenly, it sounded perfect.
She walked down the street until she found a phone booth. She was promptly put through to the Personnel Department. After a brief conversation, she was invited to come in for an interview the following day. She headed down Main Street to find a clothing store.
She stopped in Modern Woman but quickly left after finding nothing moderately priced. While she was used to fine clothes with Richard, she couldn’t justify spending the little money she had that way. She walked another block. Kay’s store window display was sparse and didn’t give much of an indication of its merchandise. In fact, based on what was in the window, it appeared that the store might even be in the process of going out of business. Marie went in for a closer look.
“Hi. Be with you in a minute,” Marie heard a woman say from behind a curtain at the back of the store. She was browsing through a rack of dresses when the sales clerk approached her. “Hi. Sorry about that. I was in the back room unpacking a new shipment of kid’s clothes. Can I help you find anything?”
The slightly overweight woman who emerged from the back of the store was close to Marie’s age. Her over-coiffed dishwater blond hair was the kind of style that could only be preserved for more than one day by sleeping standing up. Her smile was warm and welcoming.
“Do you have any suits?”
“No, afraid I don’t. What’s the occasion?”
“I have a job interview.”
“Hmm. Come look at these.” She led Marie to a rack of dresses with coordinating jackets.
Marie glanced at the woman’s outfit—pale green pants with elastic around the waist, tucked in drab beige blouse and sensible brown shoes— not what one would expect from someone who worked in a woman’s clothing store.
“These might do,” the woman said. Marie tried on three dresses.
“I’ll take this one,” she said after coming out of the dressing room.
“I’m Karen, by the way. I own this shop.” She rang up the dress. “That’ll be $9.33.” She proceeded to package the dress. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. New in town?”
Marie handed her a ten. “Yes, I am,” she said without looking up. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share much personal information with a complete stranger.
“Well, I hope you find our little town to your liking. It’s really a great place. Lived here my whole life. Married my high school sweetheart in fact, but he died two years ago from…well, ugh, he had many problems. Great schools, nice shopping, very friendly people. I’ll probably never leave here. Some might find it boring, but I find it comforting. Where are you from?”
Marie patiently listened to the woman’s well-meaning small talk. “Chicago,” she replied.
“That’s nice. Such a big city. Not like this little town. Where’s your interview?”
Marie hesitated. She’s being awfully nosey. “Southwestern Bell.” She wanted desperately to leave but didn’t want to seem rude.
“Are you meeting with Susan Anderson?”
“Why yes. How did you know?”
“‘Cause I know everything and everyone in this town,” Karen boasted. “I’ve known Susan for years. She’s my neighbor. Does all the hiring for Ma Bell.”
Marie smiled a polite smile. In spite of Karen’s outgoing personality and apparent good heartedness, Marie was uneasy with the small-town mindset where it was considered acce
ptable to know everyone’s business. “Can you point me in the direction of a shoe store?”
“Sure. Miller’s is in the next block, across the street. And if you’re looking for a bargain, Swank’s is having a good sale right now. Two blocks down in the other direction, this side of the street.”
She thanked Karen for her help and left the store.
As Marie readied herself for bed that night, she took a long look at herself in the mirror. While all the wounds were healed, she still didn’t look like herself. In fact, the longer she stared at herself, the more she wondered who the woman was in the mirror. She swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
Her dream that night was still vivid in her mind when she awoke the next morning, drenched in sweat.
Men with guns invaded her room at the B&B. People she had no reason to mistrust were there as well. Arturo and Beatrix. Juanita. And Karen, the clothing store owner. They all had rage in their eyes. They approached her, and then they laughed hard in her face when they got close. Richard was telling her, “Laugh or we’ll blow your fucking head off!” More laughter. He walked toward her with a machine gun pointed at her head. “Laugh or run you stupid bitch!”
* * *
It was a three-block walk to the phone company. She had given substantial thought as to whether or not to assume an alias for her new life, making it that much more difficult for Richard to find her. Torn between focusing on the past and how to run from it and focusing on the future and how to get to it, she decided to stay with her real name. It was, after all, one of the few things she had left of her mother.
Just as she suspected, the phone company was in an older unassuming building one block off Main Street. She hesitated a brief moment, thinking she should really be on her way to her job at Field’s—where she belonged.
Marie entered the front door and, within minutes, the receptionist introduced her to Susan Anderson. “Come in, Miss Costa. Please have a seat,” she said with a warm smile from behind her desk. Somewhere in her forties, she wore a simple shirtwaist dress, her ash blonde hair styled in a pageboy. “So tell me, how much do you know about this job?”
Marie’s stomach fluttered. “Well, to be honest, I don’t know very much at all, only what I read in your advertisement. But it sounds interesting.” She was suddenly embarrassed that she came to the interview so ill-prepared. It wasn’t like her.
“Before I tell you about the job, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
“Okay. I’ll be twenty-three next month, and I have a college degree in interior design. Those jobs are very hard to find, especially in small towns like this, so I’m looking for something I can do full-time, and then maybe I can do freelance design work in the evenings or on weekends, you know, just to keep my hands in it.” Marie didn’t like the way she answered Susan’s question, but it was too late. The words were out.
“What skills do you have other than interior design?”
“Well, in college, I took several general business courses. I have a good understanding of accounting. I also took speech and technical writing classes. The general management course I took included things like planning, organizing, leading others, and controlling expenses. Of course, I had to learn to type in order to write the many papers that were assigned.” Now fully aware she was botching the interview, Marie shifted her weight and, for a long second, looked past the woman who held her immediate fate in her hands. “I maintained a 4.0 grade point average all through college,” she offered as a last resort.
“What work experience have you had, Marie?” Susan asked with an expressionless face.
“The first job I had after college was dressing the windows and in-store displays at Marshall Field’s in Chicago.” Susan’s stoic expression didn’t change as the conversation continued. “I worked my way up to store manager.”
“That’s impressive, but why do you want this job?” she asked, bluntly.
Marie leaned forward and rested her forearms on Susan’s desk. “Because I desperately need it, Miss Anderson.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “I just moved here from Chicago. I’m living in B&B. I need to find a permanent place to live, and I can’t do that without a job.”
“Well, thank you. That’s the first relevant answer you’ve given me so far. How do you think you’ll be at answering 500 phone calls a day from people looking for a particular phone number, half of whom don’t even know how to spell the person’s name?”
“All I can tell you is I’m a quick learner, and when I make a commitment to do something, I do it. You can depend on me, I promise you that.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. The people at Marshall Field’s thought they could depend on her, and look what happened.
Susan took a long moment to look directly into Marie’s face. “Look, I like you, and I’m willing to give you a chance in this position.” She smiled. “To be honest with you, I would much rather have to train someone who is going to be dependable than hire an experienced operator who can’t make it to work on time or is out sick every other week. The job pays seventy-five cents an hour. Here’s a pamphlet on the benefits. Are you interested?”
“Yes. When can I start?”
“There are a few formalities we need to go through before I can put you on the payroll. First you need to fill out this application. And I’ll need your driver’s license for identification.”
Marie handed over her license.
Miss Anderson looked at it and then up at Marie. “This says Marchetti.”
“Yes, I know. That’s my married name.”
“So why did you tell my receptionist your last name was Costa?”
“That’s my maiden name.”
“So are you’re married or single?”
“I’m legally married…but I’m no longer with my husband.”
Miss Anderson looked directly at Marie for several seconds without blinking. “Then I’ll need a birth certificate or some other identification that shows your maiden name.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have one. I’ll have to send in for a duplicate.”
Susan stared at her for several seconds. “Okay, Marie. You need to come clean with me. What’s going on?”
“Miss Anderson, I’m going to be very honest with you, and all I ask is that you treat this conversation as confidential. I left an unsafe situation in Chicago to come here to start a new life for myself. I left in a hurry, with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I can get a duplicate birth certificate, but that’s going to take time. I really need this job. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”
“I don’t know what type of situation you left in Chicago, and I don’t want to know. But the fact remains, I can’t put you on our payroll without proper identification. I either need a birth certificate or a driver’s license with your maiden name on it. Or if you want to continue using your married name, I can accept your current driver’s license. It’s up to you. If you’re serious about this job, I’ll give you a week.”
“Thank you, Miss Anderson. I appreciate your understanding of my situation. I’ll be in touch within a week.”
“Okay, Marie. And, by the way, our conversation won’t leave this room. I promise.”
“Thank you so much.”
On her way home Marie decided she would get a new driver’s license. Using Marchetti wasn’t consistent with starting over.
She looked for a place to grab a quick sandwich before going back to her room and found an old Victorian house that had been converted to a bookstore on one side and a café on the other. She headed up the walk leading to the cafe and heard a familiar voice.
“Hi! How’d the interview go?” Karen from Kay’s clothing store walked briskly to catch up to her. “Did you get the job?”
The gray and brown plaid dress Karen wore could not have been any less flattering. Marie gave her a faint smile. “It went well. I just need to provide a few documents before I start.” She entered the café with
Karen. There was no way to avoid it.
“That dress looks great on you, by the way. Want to share a table?”
Marie hesitated before answering and hoped Karen didn’t take offense. “Sure.”
Karen led the way into the restaurant, her gait quick and energetic. The quaint little cafe, called Lulu’s, was furnished to match the architecture of the house.
One of the waitresses put her arm around Karen. “Karen! How are you? We haven’t seen you in so long. Have you been cheating on me by going somewhere else for lunch?”
Marie was unable to place the woman’s accent.
“Lulu, you know I wouldn’t cheat on you,” Karen said with a smile. “Actually, I’ve been bringing my lunch from home lately. Trying to save some money. Business has been slow.”
“Well you and your friend have a seat over there. I’ll be with you in a minute,” Lulu said as she whisked herself away to the kitchen.
Karen and Marie sat down at the designated table and looked at the menu. “You know, I don’t even know your name,” Karen said with a warm smile.
“It’s Marie.” She extended her hand.
“I hope I didn’t annoy you too much when you came in my shop the other day. I’m a talker, in case you haven’t figured that out already, and I’m afraid I went on and on about myself, probably about things you didn’t even want to know. You have to just stop me when I do that. One of my bad habits.”
“I wasn’t annoyed at all, Karen.” It was hard not to like her. “Urn.,, actually, I should apologize for my behavior when I was in your shop. I’m usually not that unfriendly.”
“No need to apologize. We all have our off days. I know I do.”
“I just came into town, and well, I have a lot on my mind.”
“Where are you staying, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“At Rita’s B&B. Temporarily, of course.”
Karen held Marie’s gaze a little long. “This may be none of my business, but are you okay?”
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