The Coach House

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The Coach House Page 23

by Florence Osmund


  “Sure. What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. The other day…you just looked kinda…I don’t know, like maybe you needed help or something.”

  “No. No. Nothing like that.” Marie bit her lower lip through a forced smile.

  The two women engaged in small talk while they ate, Marie taking a cautious liking to Karen. The more Karen talked, the more Marie realized just how small Atchison was. Not that she had any reservations about living in a small town, at least no more than living in a big one.

  Marie walked with Karen back to her shop. An OUT TO LUNCH sign hung on the door. Before Karen could unlock the shop, Marie’s creative instincts kicked in. She took Karen by the arm and faced the display window.

  “Karen, you said business was slow, right?” Karen nodded. “How many people do you think you draw in with this window display?”

  Karen appraised the window. “Probably no one. It’s…”

  Before she could finish the sentence, one of the arms on the lone mannequin fell to the floor on its own. The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  “Look, I have experience with window displays. Why don’t you let me fix this? With just a few props and a little imagination, I can make it look first-class.” Karen didn’t say anything. “You want to project a good first impression, right?” Karen nodded. “Well, the right window will entice new people to come in, and it will show your current customers your new items, like the ones you were unpacking yesterday. What do you say?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. You’re on. But I can’t pay you much.”

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to pay me anything. It’s on me.”

  Karen grimaced. “How about it if you do the first one for free, and if you change it up once a month, I’ll give you a discount on anything you buy in my store?”

  “Karen, if things work out for me here, you have yourself a deal.” She extended her hand for a shake. “Now, what kind of props do you have so I can get to work?”

  The back room where the props were was a disorganized mess, the type of condition that made Marie cringe. For the next hour and a half, Marie busily went to work, humming while she made the limited number of props work for the window. “Okay, Karen. You can come look now.”

  Bright green faux grass covered the entire floor of the display. Two mannequins were dressed in red, white, and blue outfits in readiness for the upcoming Memorial Day holiday. An American flag stood up in the corner next to an American Flyer wagon. On one end Marie had strategically placed a variety of children’s clothes and on the wagon a boy doll dressed in a military uniform. A variety of ceramic bunnies, squirrels, and chipmunks were scattered on the grass floor.

  “I can’t believe it. This window has never looked so good. You’re a miracle worker, Marie. How can I thank you?”

  “No need to thank me. Just wish me luck in finding an apartment.” She told her about the coach house.

  “Sounds like the Edwards house on Third Street. Nice people. Julia comes in here every once in a while.”

  “So you know them?”

  “I told you, dear. I know everyone in this town.” Her smile was genuine. “Stop in to let me know how everything turns out. Or if you need help with anything. I know it’s not easy starting over in a new town.”

  “Okay. And by the way, check out your new back room. Maybe you’ll be able to find things back there now!”

  A smartly dressed middle-aged woman entered the store. “Hey, I like your new window, Karen! Where can I find that red sweater that’s on the mannequin?” she asked.

  * * *

  The next day Marie walked to the driver’s license bureau where she was told by the stone-faced man behind the counter she needed a birth certificate in order to apply for a new driver’s license under her maiden name. Her face dropped. “Will a Social Security card do?”

  “Yep.”

  She handed him her card.

  “Fill out this form. Then come back here in three days and go to that window over there.”

  She left the bureau thinking the boorish man behind the counter reminded her of the conductor on the train to Libertyville—probably wanting to be someplace else.

  “Hello, Mrs. Edwards?”

  “Yes, it is. Who’s calling please?”

  “My name is Marie Costa. I’m new in town, and Rita from Rita’s Bed & Breakfast told me you might have an apartment for rent.”

  “Yes, I know Rita well. We do have a rental apartment, but we’re in the middle of fixing it up. Nothing major, but we’re really not ready to rent it yet.”

  “Well, I hope I’m not being too pushy, Mrs. Edwards, but I wonder if I could see it even if it’s not ready. I’m currently renting a room from Rita, and I’m anxious to find something, well, more suitable.”

  Julia hesitated. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. But I can’t make any promises to you. My husband Wayne will want to meet you as well, and he’s at work right now.”

  “I understand. When would it be convenient for me to come by?”

  “I suppose you could come right now if you want. I have two little ones at home, and one of them needs a nap, so I don’t have much time.”

  “I can be there in ten minutes.”

  The coach house was set back twenty-five yards behind the main house, and like the main house, painted bright white with a red roof. The three-story main house was more spectacular than she had anticipated, like something out of a fairy tale, a third floor cupola adding to its stately appearance. Golden yellow and blazing red tulips stood tall in front of the hedge that framed the lower face of the porch. Marie breathed in the sweet smell of lilacs that lined the driveway.

  The coach house was equally majestic. On the ground floor were three garage doors. On the second floor, above the garages and across the entire width of the structure, were solid windows. The massive columns supporting the canopy of the second floor covered the apron of driveway in front of the garages. Candy pink geraniums had been planted in wrought-iron pot-holders secured to the wood columns and in the decorative cement flowerpot next to a wooden and wrought-iron bench. The fully bloomed magnolia tree near the side door was almost as tall as the coach house itself.

  Julia Edwards greeted Marie at the front door of the main house. She held an infant in her arms. A toddler stood by her side. A dark-haired slim woman in her thirties, Julia wore high heels and a frilly white apron over her cheerful flowered dress.

  “You must be Marie. Please come in. This is Wayne Jr.” Julia placed her hand on the toddler’s head. “And this little one is Frannie.”

  “Well, hello, Wayne, Jr.” Marie stooped to his level. “And how are you?”

  “Fine,” he murmured behind his mother’s dress.

  Marie stood up to admire the infant. “What a beautiful little girl. How old is she?”

  “Five months, and Wayne here is three and a half.” She led the way through her house to the back door.

  “You have such a lovely home, Mrs. Edwards. I can’t wait to see the coach house.”

  “Keep in mind that it’s all torn apart right now, so you might have to use your imagination in order to picture how it could be.” She led the way out the back door toward the coach house with Wayne Jr. following close behind.

  Tall pines and impeccably manicured bushes had been planted along the perimeter of the property with massive flower beds in front.

  “Your flowers are beautiful.”

  Julia’s face lit up. “Well, I do like to garden,” she explained, leading Marie up the stairs to the apartment. “The house was built in 1906, and this building was originally used for the horses and carriages on the ground level and the stablemen stayed up here with the hay. It was converted to garages a couple years before we bought it.”

  The door at the top of the stairs opened up directly into the kitchen. Marie instantly knew she was going to like this place.

  “We’re going to put down new linoleum in here and
paint the cabinets. “It’s small, but functional. The appliances are fairly new. They were bought when we purchased the property.”

  A wall of bookcases on the top half and cabinets on the bottom flanked the large, combination living room/dining room. Paint cans, drop cloths, and tools were scattered everywhere, but Marie could see beyond the mess. “Is that a door to a porch?”

  “Yes, the porch runs the whole width of the building. It’s rather pleasant out there when the weather’s nice. You can peek out there if you want. Wayne put some of the furniture out there while he’s painting.”

  The porch faced east, and the strong sunlight that poured through the side windows cast a comforting veil on the space, even with the amount of furniture stored there. “What does your husband do, Mrs. Edwards?”

  “He owns a service station here in town. It’s called Eddie’s. You may have seen it on Main Street.”

  “Why, yes, I walked past it just yesterday.”

  Julia continued the tour. “Here’s the bathroom. It’s small, but it has everything you need. There are two bedrooms. This one is the smaller of the two.”

  Marie went in the bedroom and looked out the window at the backyard. “Is this your property back here as well?” she asked, looking at the vast lawn and flower beds.

  “Yes, the property in back actually extends across the backs of the next two houses. It’s an odd-shaped lot, but we like it. It will be such a nice place for the kids to play when they get a little older.”

  “What’s that?” Marie asked, pointing to a steel grey out building with an escape hatch on the top.

  “That, believe it or not, is a bomb shelter. My husband bought it… without my knowledge of course. Got a deal on it after the war ended and hauled it back there. He’s always bringing things home that we really don’t need. And that is one of them.” She made a face. “Hopefully, the ivy I planted around it will camouflage it someday.”

  Julia led Marie to the second bedroom. “Though you can’t tell with all the furniture piled in here, this bedroom is pretty good size. It has a nice big closet, too. Although, it looks like we can’t get to it right now.”

  Marie’s eyes widened. “So the apartment comes furnished?”

  “It does if you want. The last tenants left it all behind and told us to do whatever we wanted with it. He got transferred oversees, and they couldn’t take it with them. It’s in pretty good condition.”

  Frannie grew fussy, and Wayne Jr. started to get into things. “Well, I know you’ve got your hands full with the kids, Mrs. Edwards, and I don’t want to keep you any longer. I just want you to know I am very interested in renting this apartment from you. May I ask how much the rent is?”

  “I’ll have to discuss that with Wayne when he gets home tonight. I can call you tomorrow with that information if you like.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a phone in my room, but I could call you if that would be okay.” Marie followed Julia down the stairs.

  “That would be fine.” She tried to comfort Frannie who was now crying. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Call anytime. I’m up before dawn.”

  Marie walked up the driveway toward the street, then turned around and waved. “Bye Wayne.” The toddler shyly waved back and followed his mother into the house.

  Marie tried to contain her excitement as she walked back to Main Street. Before she went back to the confines of her room, she stopped in a coffee shop and picked up a sandwich to go. This is a good day. This is a very good day.

  CHAPTER 18

  Karen

  Things fell into place. Susan Anderson at Southern Bell Telephone offered Marie the operator job. Marie began rearranging furniture in Rita’s B&B room by room. And Julia Edwards promised her the coach house apartment as soon as Wayne finished the modest remodeling work at a rent that Marie could afford given her new job.

  While it wasn’t in Marie’s immediate plan, she and Karen become fast friends when she realized the connection she felt with Karen was one she desperately needed.

  Guilt over the Lillian Strauss incident stayed with her. Marie figured the woman had gotten over the trauma of having her house broken into by now, but she still felt remorseful about having caused it. She thought about the consequences of going back to Chicago and turning herself in. On one hand, it would be the right thing to do, the right thing as far as the police were concerned and the right thing for Lillian. Not to mention the right thing for Marie’s conscious. On the other hand, it would mean going back to deal with Richard because once the police knew it was her, Richard would know as well, and she had no idea what he was thinking or what he would do to her if he found her.

  She considered sending an apology letter to Lillian, anonymous of course, and a few dollars to fix the damaged window but feared the risk of such a letter would tie her to the break-in, and she could be arrested and charged for breaking and entering, damage to someone else’s property and theft. She kept reminding herself that she wasn’t the type of person who would do those things…but she did do them. What would I want to happen if I were in the woman’s shoes? Would a letter make any difference? She thought about the condition of the Strauss house and the fact that Lillian had apparently been hiding somewhere in it for the eight or nine hours Marie was there.

  Good or bad choice, she decided to remain silent. She hoped in time she could forgive herself for what happened, but she wasn’t sure if she would ever live without some level of guilt. She went back and forth in her mind just how she felt about the unfortunate situation, reminding herself that she, too, was a victim. She thought about how she could have done things differently. She knew she hadn’t been thinking rationally at the time, but that was no excuse. Did I make the best decision I could have at the time given the whole situation? But everyone makes mistakes. And I was scared. Guilt, fear, and confusion were a merciless combination of emotions for Marie to endure.

  It had been almost a month since she abandoned her position and people she cared for at Marshall Field’s. She couldn’t imagine what they must think of her. She waffled back and forth numerous times in her mind whether or not to contact Mr. Bakersfield. It would be characteristic of Richard to question him about her whereabouts, and the last thing she wanted to do was put Mr. Bakersfield in that position. On the other hand, she wanted to explain what happened. After wavering one way then the other whether to contact him, she decided it was the right thing to do.

  The call went as well as could be expected. She told Mr. Bakersfield she fled from a volatile situation without opportunity to prepare for it. She told him she was in a safe place and was about to start a new life for herself. Marie apologized profusely for letting them down and told him if there was any way she could make it up to them she would, but given the circumstances, she felt compelled to stay away from her former life.

  Mr. Bakersfield asked if she was okay. Marie told him she was. He wished her well and then asked, “If your husband calls here again, what should I tell him?”

  “He’s called you?”

  “Yes, several times. I told him I hadn’t had any contact with you since the day before you left on vacation and didn’t know where you were.”

  “If you would please continue telling him that, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  * * *

  “Today’s the day, Karen. Today, I get the keys to my new home. God, I can’t wait to get settled in. Just having a kitchen again will be so nice. You’ve got to come see it. It’s so perfect.”

  “Need any help moving in?”

  Marie laughed. “Well, let’s see. I can probably fit everything I own into two shopping bags. Thanks, but I think I can manage.”

  “Well, we’ll have to celebrate when you get settled. You’ll let me know if you need anything, right? Like the first time you go grocery shopping and you need everything. How are you going to manage that without a car?”

  Marie hadn’t thought that far ahead and was pleasantly surprised that Karen had. “I might just take you up on
that. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Looks like I’m taking you shopping. Pick you up at noon?”

  “You are wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Marie walked to the Edwards’s home, her new home. She was greeted by Julia, Wayne Jr., and Frannie. Julia handed her two keys. “This one is for the outside door, and this one is for the kitchen door. And if you ever get locked out, we have duplicates here.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Edwards.” She exited the main house through the back door. “I know I’m going to be very happy here.”

  “Please call me Julia. And we’re happy to have you as a tenant, Marie. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, you hear?”

  “I won’t. Thanks.” Marie walked the short distance to her newfound retreat and inhaled the delightful aroma of the flowers. She climbed the stairs, opened the kitchen door, and stood there for a long minute. “A blank canvas, that’s what this is,” she said, stepping in. “In more ways than one.” She locked the door. The sound of the dead bolt clicking in its chamber gave her the sense of security she so desperately needed.

  The kitchen sparkled with its fresh coat of paint and new linoleum floor. Crisp white curtains hung on the window overlooking the backyard. The furniture left behind by the previous tenant was contemporary and tasteful. A plate of cookies was on the dining room table with a note that read, “Welcome to your new home. Julia.”

  Marie sat in one of the white wicker chairs on the sun porch while she munched on a cookie. The porch furniture, upholstered in a green flowered toile fabric, had a refreshing look and feel about it, like a tropical resort. Plantation-style windows framed the three walls that formed the long narrow enclosure, allowing ample light to come in during the day and cool gentle breezes in the evening.

  The spare bedroom was bare except for a twin bed and small desk. The master bedroom was furnished with a double bed, dresser, two nightstands, and a sitting area. Marie floated through the apartment several times, taking in everything before she sat down at the dining room table to make a shopping list. It was hard to curb her excitement and keep the list to just the essentials, but she did.

 

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