Uncovered in Merriweather, page 5
It hadn’t been her fault that Douglas had turned up on their doorstep on Christmas Eve. She had written him a perfectly respectful letter in which she had refused his many offers of matrimony once and for all, thinking that this would be the end of it. But, no! He had not accepted her answer and had recklessly driven all the way to Merriweather from Chicago to confront her. His parents must have been furious! And of course, having no clear plan and nowhere to stay, Douglas had accepted Pops’s invitation to sleep on the couch. Likewise, he had further ruined Christmas by accompanying them to church the next morning and then accepting Mums’s cheery invitation for him to dine with them as well.
Melody had tried her best not to be alone with Douglas, but he had finally found his chance when he spotted her trying to creep up the stairs for a quick nap after their big Christmas dinner.
“There you are, Melody! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” he hissed, rushing up the stairs after her.
Melody reluctantly turned. “Oh, hello, Douglas.” She forced a smile. “I was just going to lie down for a bit. A little too much for dinner.” She patted her stomach.
“Melody! Stop avoiding me! We have to talk!”
Melody bit the inside of her cheek. It was silly to keep running from him. She would just have to be firm, though she thought she had already done that in her letter.
“Oh, alright.” She leaned against the wall. “Go on.”
“Here? On the staircase? Can’t we go somewhere . . . well, private?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the house is rather full.” Melody came down a few steps. “Maybe the pantry? But I think Helenka is in the kitchen preparing something for this evening,” she murmured. “And the back porch is too cold . . .”
“Can’t we go to your room?” he pleaded.
Melody sighed. It was perhaps the only private place left in the house, but she was loath to lead Douglas to her bedroom—not because of the impropriety, though if Mums were to find out, she would be furious (however, if the light snore coming from her room was any indication, Mums was having her own little lie-down). And it wasn’t because Melody feared that Douglas would do anything ungentlemanly—he was, in her mind, akin to a cuddly little kitten—but because she would have nowhere to retreat if the conversation grew uncomfortable. She could hardly waltz out of her own bedroom, leaving him in there alone, if the topic at hand became too heated. Which, she predicted, it might.
“Fine. But we have to be quick. And quiet,” she emphasized. “Mums is right next door.”
Douglas followed her on tiptoe into her room and paused just inside the door, his eyes darting everywhere at once.
Melody leaned against her desk, facing him. “Well?”
Douglas stopped observing the sacred inner sanctuary of his love and gazed at her. Melody quailed under the pain she saw there.
“Why, Melody? Why won’t you marry me?” he begged. “Is it something I did? Something I said? Didn’t say? Didn’t do?”
Melody’s stomach churned, and she closed her eyes briefly, trying to gather strength. “Douglas, it isn’t you. You’re perfectly sweet. Perfectly charming. It’s me. I . . . I’m needed here. And I want to be here, especially with my dad being sick.”
“I can wait! I really can. I’m sorry if I pressured you. I won’t anymore! I promise.”
Melody pinched the bridge of her nose. “Douglas, it’s not that. I . . . I just don’t love you in that way,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Douglas’s face crumpled. “But why? We were so happy back at school. What’s changed?”
Melody didn’t answer.
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” he asked abruptly.
An image of Cal rudely appeared in her mind, but she banished it. “No, Douglas. There’s not.”
“Promise?”
Melody considered. She would not be lying if she answered that there was nothing between her and Cal, because there wasn’t. “No, there’s not, Douglas.”
Douglas put a hand briefly over his eyes. “Can I have my ring back, then?” he asked, lowering his hand. His face was hard now. “It was my grandma’s engagement ring.”
Melody felt suddenly nauseated. This was the other reason she had been dreading this conversation. “Oh, Douglas. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I . . . I had to pawn it. I’m so terribly sorry!”
“Pawn it! Why?” He stared at her incredulously.
Melody pulled her eyes from his and studied the black-and-white celebrity photos she had clipped from Vogue in her younger years and taped to her dormered ceiling. She stared at Clark Gable and then Barbara Stanwyck. Had they ever had these problems? Oh, what had she done?
She returned her gaze to Douglas, her stomach still churning with guilt. “My dad borrowed money from loan sharks to keep the Merc afloat,” she said in a rush, “and I needed cash to pay them off. I tried raising the money by brewing and selling cider, but it wasn’t enough, so I . . . I pawned the ring. I’m so sorry, Douglas.”
Douglas ran his hands through his hair and began to pace in the little space. “Well, where is it? I’ll just have to buy it back. My mother will kill me if I’ve lost it!”
“Melody! Is that you?” Mums called from her room. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one, Mums!” Melody called back.
“Well, be quiet!”
Melody rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Douglas. “Oh, Douglas!” she said in a lowered voice. “It . . . I don’t know how to tell you this, but someone has already bought it.” The fact that it had been Wesley Elton who had purchased it just to thwart her made it all the worse.
“Bought it!” Douglas ran his hands through his hair again. “Who was it? I’ve got to get that ring back.”
“His name is Wesley Elton. He works at the bank. He’s a bit of a crumb, though, so I’m not sure if he’ll sell it back.”
Douglas looked at her with what seemed utter defeat. “Oh, Melody. How could you do this to me?”
For a brief moment, Melody wavered. Almost instantly, however, her resolve returned. She couldn’t possibly marry someone she didn’t truly love. She loved Douglas as a pal, but not as a woman should love her husband. “I’m sorry, Douglas. I . . . I was desperate. I’ll pay you back for the ring. I promise.”
Douglas groaned. “It’s not just the ring, Mel. It’s you. I want you.”
Tears were pooling in her eyes now. “I’m sorry, Douglas,” she repeated. “Truly, I am. We had some fun times. Ones I’ll never forget. But I’m not the girl I was back then. I’ve changed.” She brushed a tear away. “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“It was meant to be! I’ll show you. I’ll wait for you.”
“No, Douglas.” She took his hands. “It’s no use.”
Douglas stared at her for a few more moments and then dashed out of her room and pounded down the stairs. Melody did not immediately follow but stood there trying to collect her thoughts. When she heard the front door bang and his car rumble to a start, however, she ran down the stairs. He couldn’t leave on Christmas Day! But by the time she got to the front porch, his car was already halfway down the street.
Melody knew it had been the right decision, but it still hurt. She had gone over it so many times in her head, tortuously thinking of all she could have, should have said to poor Douglas. Several times she had attempted to write him a letter, but it always ended with her tossing it, unfinished, into the waste basket. Neither had he written to her, apart from a plain white card expressing his sympathy after her father’s death.
Melody let out a deep breath. “His name was Douglas, Fred. You know that. But I don’t see what he has to do with any of this. I’m not going back. You are!”
“Why isn’t there ever any discussion about my future?” Bunny declared. “If there’s college money no one seems to want, why can’t I have it for Julliard? Miss Elliot claims I have a very good chance of getting in, that I have a talent that shouldn’t be wasted.”
“Who the hell is Miss Elliot, and why should you take her word for it?” Fred scoffed.
“Miss Elliot is my piano teacher, which you’d know if you weren’t so self-absorbed, Freddy.”
Fred drained his wineglass. “She probably says that to all her students.”
Bunny stood up. “You know, for once I agree with Melody. You’re a pretentious brat!” she declared and exited in a huff.
“I don’t see why you all have to argue!” Mums moaned as Helenka came in and began clearing the table.
“Pretentious brat, am I?” Freddy hissed to Melody.
Melody gritted her teeth. “I never said that, Freddy.”
Helenka exited with a load of dirty dishes.
“But you think it, don’t you?”
“What does it matter what I think? You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“It is banana pudding for dessert,” Helenka announced to no one in particular as she returned to the dining room, now carrying a silver tray with three bowls of heaping pudding topped with whipped cream and garnished with a cherry. She looked worriedly at Mums, who was already getting to her feet.
“None for me, Helenka. I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”
“Pani,” Helenka urged, setting a bowl at Mums’s place anyway. “Just one bite, no?”
“I’ll have some!” Fred said eagerly, but Helenka was not listening. Having failed at enticing her mistress into dessert, she was now helping Mums out of the room, one arm around her middle.
Fred rose and reached across the table for one of the bowls still sitting on the tray. “I guess I’ll have to help myself. You want some?” He glanced at Melody as he dipped a spoon into the pudding.
“No,” she said, pushing back her chair. “I’m not hungry. I’m going up.”
“I don’t see why you’re so sore, Mel,” he called. “I’m doing this for you, you know. Sacrificing myself for all of you. It’s what Pops would have done.”
Melody paused, her hand on the stair rail. She turned to look at him. “Sacrificing yourself? No one asked you to, Fred. This doesn’t make sense, and you know it. You’re just being pigheaded. And this is not what Pops would have done. He sent for me when he got sick, not you. And there was a reason for that, if you’d only think about it for half a minute.”
With that, she marched up the stairs and shut herself in her room for the rest of the night.
Melody awoke with a jolt the next morning and glanced at the little round alarm clock near her bed. 8:20! She had overslept! She groaned and threw off her covers.
She struggled to get her feet into her slippers but then kicked them off again when she realized she hadn’t time to go down for breakfast. Instead, she went to her closet and pulled on a blouse and her work skirt. Despite having gone to bed early, she hadn’t gotten to sleep until the wee hours, and even then, had slept fitfully. All night, she had tossed and turned, thinking about Freddy’s announcement.
Dressed now, she threw herself onto her vanity stool and began to frantically brush her hair. Her thoughts had run the gamut during the course of the night, going from insisting that she remain in charge of the Merc and demanding that Fred go back to school to capitulating completely and returning to Chicago, if only to watch him fail. But she couldn’t do that, she thought, as she carefully applied some lipstick. As much as she would love to see Fred humbled, she couldn’t bear to let the Merc fail.
But then she had conjured up memories of the balls, the spring tea, dancing at the Aragon, and their rides up Lake Shore Drive in Charlie’s Buick Century or Douglas’s V8 Sport and imagined how wonderfully delicious it would be to step back into her old life—to have her only care be studying for a silly test or advising one of her court on the best way to attract a certain Loyola boy’s attention. What a contrast it would be compared to her daily worries at the Merc about money, not to mention having to order supplies, bargaining with the farmers over the sums she paid them, setting mousetraps, scraping the mold off the cheeses in the case, and dealing with annoying housewives who complained about prices and anything else that occurred to them, such as if the apples or turnips they bought rotted too soon. As if that was her fault! No, she would be all too glad to hand this all off to Fred while she waltzed the night away and watched the sun come up over the lake with her friends.
Downstairs, the dining room was deserted. Helenka had already cleared away breakfast. Melody was tempted to simply dash out the door, but then a thought struck her. Why was she hurrying? Fred was there. He would no doubt have choice words for her when she finally turned up, but would it matter if she took the time to have a cup of coffee? After all, he fancied himself in charge now, so let him handle the morning’s business. His custom these past weeks was to simply lock himself in the office for most of the day, letting Melody handle the daily operations as well as the staff. Well, let him do it. It would be good for him to see what he was really getting into.
She pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, expecting to find Helenka there, but she was not. She must be upstairs already, either making beds or tending to Mums. Helenka had gotten into the bad habit of carrying breakfast up to Mums instead of Mums joining them as she always had. It made Melody sad all over again. Her mother used to be the first one up every day, bright and cheerful, with a long list of to-dos for the day. Now it was a struggle just to get her to come down for dinner. Oh, Pops! Why?
Morosely, Melody poured herself a cup of coffee. Maybe she really should go back to Chicago, she considered. She could return to her gay life at Mundelein and pretend that Mums and Pops were still back here, still alive, still happy. She might even be able to resurrect the old foursome—her and Cynthia and Douglas and Charlie. Maybe she could get Douglas to accept a friendship instead of a love affair, and everything could go back to the way it was—football games and dances and holding court in the grand parlor of Philomena with Mundelein’s most elite and fashionable girls clustered around her. Maybe she could even get a job at a sweetshop or a soda fountain on Saturday afternoons as a way to pay Douglas back for his ring.
Right now, everything went to paying the bills and buying supplies. With the Merc on such a tightrope, she hadn’t dared to pocket any money for herself. But if she had a little side job in Chicago, she could surely keep that money until she had enough to pay Douglas.
She set her empty coffee cup in the sink and went to get her hat and coat. Maybe she should let Fred take over. After all, maybe he wouldn’t fail. Maybe his “sound Harvard business practices” would turn the Merc around more than her farcical ideas would. She wished she could discuss it with Frank, but she could already guess what he would advise: stay the course and be part of Merriweather’s revival.
Melody slipped out of the house and began walking down Ridge. Though there was still a trace of frost on the ground, the trees were beginning to bud, and she could see flowers beginning to poke through the dead autumn leaves against the white picket fences. They cheered her.
As she turned onto High Street, she tried to view Merriweather as an outsider might. It had definite charm, she decided, and felt herself wavering yet again. It wasn’t at all a bad place to live. She had grown used to running the Merc and to, well, to stepping into her father’s shoes. Admittedly, they were big shoes to fill, but she had grown immeasurably in confidence since last fall. She was proud of what she had accomplished so far, and she repeated the retort she had thrown at Freddy last night—that it was her whom Pops had asked to come back and help, not him. She could always come back after she graduated. It wouldn’t be forever, after all. Unless, of course, she met someone in Chicago and fell head over heels.
But that, she mused, was unlikely to happen. No, this was where she belonged, she resolved, and Fred wasn’t going to push her out, as if she had no say in the matter.
When she finally arrived at the Merc, she stood for a moment enjoying the display in the big front window. Her latest window design filled her with not a little pride. Instead of the rakes and shovels and seed packs they normally showcased as part of their “Get Ready for Spring” display, she and Harriet had arranged one that featured a pastel bunting draped across the window with Kate’s baskets assembled on the ground and atop boxes draped with pastel cloth. Artfully arranged throughout were the luxury hats and gloves she had ordered last fall, and at the center of it all was a bicycle!
It was Melody’s latest idea for a product they might stock. There used to be a bicycle shop in town—Brietbach’s—but they had gone out of business shortly after the Crash. Now, if one wanted a bicycle, you had to go all the way to Madison. It had been a stroke of genius on her part, Melody thought proudly.
She pushed open the door, the shop bell tinkling. “Sorry, I’m late!” she cried.
“Oh, hello, Melody!” Harriet was behind the counter, a feather duster in hand. There was no sign, of course, of Fred. “We were getting worried, weren’t we, Mrs. Haufbrau?”
Mrs. Haufbrau merely grunted and returned to looking over the receipt book at the back counter, her favorite task.
“We were just talking about the wedding,” Harriet explained as she returned to jabbing her feather duster between the jars of candy sticks.
“Have you decided on a date?” Melody shed her hat and coat and reached for her apron.
“Oh, yes!” Harriet gushed. “We finally decided late last night. June 11! I’m to be a June bride! Mom thinks it’s a bit too fast, but I don’t. Do you, Melody?”
“Yes, it’s too fast,” Mrs. Haufbrau called without looking up.
“Well, I don’t know.” Melody tied on the apron. “Have you talked to Fr. Eggert? What does he say?”
Harriet glanced nervously at Mrs. Haufbrau. “Well, he says it’s okay as long as . . . as long as, you know.” She blushed.
“People will talk,” Mrs. Haufbrau chirped matter-of-factly, still absorbed in the receipt book.
“Well, anyway.” Harriet’s voice was lower now. “We’ve already gotten so much done. Mom is sewing my dress, and John’s to buy a new suit. His brother, Walter, is to be the best man, and I’m having two of his sisters for bridesmaids.” She looked guiltily at Melody. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you, Melody! I wanted to, you know. Well, actually, I wasn’t sure I should, seeing as you’re my boss. Though I know we’re friends, too! But it was on account of John having so many sisters. Already there’s been hurt feelings. We chose Frances, ‘cause she’s the oldest, and then Irene, ‘cause she’s the next oldest—after Walter. So, you see. You don’t mind, do you, Melody?”
