The Coach House (32 page)

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Authors: Florence Osmund

Tags: #General, #Fiction

BOOK: The Coach House
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“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 acceptable 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?”

“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.

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