Uncharted Fate (5 page)

"Not really. Everything else is a shot in the dark. Like these." She pointed her pencil to some ads near the bottom. "There are a couple of openings for receptionists. Maybe I could handle something like a receptionist job. I imagine all you’d have to do is sit at a desk in some lobby somewhere and answer the telephone and greet people when they come in. I think I’ll call a couple of these."

Rose wished her luck and left. Anna called the numbers listed and made appointments for the following afternoon, then showered and dressed. After a good deal of consideration, she finally decided on her green herringbone tweed skirt and the white silky blouse with the big bow. She combed her short, blond hair as best she could. Without question, it needed trimming. But she couldn’t afford it. And that was that. She set off.

The first address turned out to be a lawyer’s office. She filled out the application and gave it to the secretary. When the older woman read through it, she looked up and shook her head.

Anna tensed and slid forward to the edge of her chair. "Is there something wrong with my application?"

"It says here you don’t type or file or take dictation."

"Yes, right, but it said the job was for a receptionist, not a secretary."

"It is. The duties also include filing and typing from a Dictaphone. We require a typing speed of 60 words per minute from all applicants."

Anna’s stomach fell. She’d never done anything but hunt and peck to type the occasional term paper. "I have three years of college. Doesn’t that help?"

"I’m sorry. You don’t have the skills we require."

Anna thought of the other interviews she’d lined up for receptionist jobs. Licking her dry lips, she asked, "Ah, do most receptionist jobs require typing and filing?"

"I’m afraid so. You see, with many firms cutting back, most receptionists have to take on some secretarial duties. You might get lucky but I doubt it." She smiled in sympathy. "I’m sorry."

With a sinking feeling, Anna nodded and left. The next address was an accounting firm and she got the same answer there. She was ready to give up but, since she’d already made the appointments, she decided to keep going in case she got lucky.

When the final address turned out to be a plumbing supply store, she thought maybe at last she’d found a place which wouldn’t need a fast typist. She was right, they didn’t. However, they needed someone with bookkeeping experience to take over when everyone else was busy. She hadn’t even handled the family budget at home. She returned to her house, tired and discouraged.

Sunday came, with its fatter paper and expanded ‘help wanted’ section, and Anna opened the evening newspaper to more closely study the ads that didn't run during the week. She wasn’t expecting much.

"Let’s see," she murmured. "There must be something here. ‘AAA, Cab drivers,’ no good. ‘Accountant, experienced,’ nope. ‘Auto Mechanic.’ Yecch, I can’t even fix my own car. ‘Babysitter.’ I could watch kids while their mothers worked, but I bet it would pay next to nothing.”

She kept looking. “‘Bookkeeper,’ no. ‘Bus driver,’ ‘Emergency Medical Technician, must have degree.’ Too bad.” She scanned the rest with mounting frustration. Nurse, Real Estate—experienced only, Respiratory Therapist, Roofer.
What a laugh
. Sales Rep, must be willing to travel. Teacher, Typist.
None of the above.

She threw down the paper in disgust. "Damn it. Everybody wants skills I don’t have or experience I can’t get, or an education I can’t afford. I'm going to try the internet."

Mallory came downstairs when Anna called for her, and explained how to find ‘monster.com’ and others and how to fill out the profiles. Mallory told her that the New York Job Service had a website. Anna appreciated the help, even if her daughter had been a little condescending about her lack of internet skills.

Several hours later she'd found two listings she thought were worth a try. She’d go fill out applications with them tomorrow.

Thinking back to her college days, Anna remembered her wonderful evenings with William Wordsworth and Charles Dickens and William Blake. Fat lot of good they were doing her bank account right now. She should have gone for something more mundane like secretarial school or nursing.

The following week, Mallory came in as she sat dejected at the kitchen table, her chin propped in her palm. Anna looked at the clock and noticed it was five-thirty. Her heart gave its customary flutter.
That time again
.

"Hi," she said. "It’s late. Where’ve you been?"

Mallory shot her a hostile look and dumped her books on the table. "Why? You checking up on me?"

"Yes. You’re not grown up yet, you know." Anna made herself walk casually over to the refrigerator to take out the last three hot dogs for supper. "You usually get home around two-thirty. Did you stay after school for French Club or something?"

"No, I dropped out of my clubs. They were boring." She stood, defiant, in the middle of the kitchen floor, her arms crossed. "Terry Baker and Kevin and I went window shopping after school. Then we hung around downtown."

"Hung around? Hung around where?"

"We all got milkshakes at McDonald’s."

"How did you get a milkshake? You don’t have any money."

"I got some from Terry."

"I don’t like the idea of you borrowing money from other kids to have things like milkshakes. Particularly since you won’t be able to pay her back."

"Terry didn’t lend me money, she gave me money."

"Even worse. Who’s Terry? You never mentioned her before." Anna closed the refrigerator door and faced Mallory, her hands on her hips. "And Kevin? You’ve never mentioned him before, either."

Mallory flipped her hair over her ear with her fingertips in an insouciant gesture. "Oh, I’ve known Terry a long time. I never hung around with her, that’s all. And Kevin is her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Is she in your class? None of your other friends have started going out with boys."

"Lots of girls have boyfriends." Mallory grimaced. "Adrienne and Chris seem terribly dreary lately. They never want to do anything fun. Probably why they don’t have boyfriends. I haven’t seen them in a while. Terry is in my homeroom and I heard her say she was going shopping after school. I asked her if I could go and she said sure."

"I don’t think I like all this much." Anna frowned. "What stores did you go to?"

"Nowhere special. Around downtown." Mallory looked exasperated. "Dad never cross-examined me like this. He trusted me. I was his baby girl." Tears started to gather in her eyes. She blinked them away.

"Downtown? Then you didn’t take the school bus home?" Anna persisted.

"Of course not."

"Then how did you get home?"

"Kevin’s brother’s in high school and he gave me a ride."

Anna’s brewing anger erupted and she strode forward until she was right in front of Mallory. "You rode home in a car with Kevin’s brother? Kevin, who you only met today and his brother, who could have been any kind of weirdo for all you knew?"

"Moth-er. Don’t be Stone Age. Not every man in the world is a rapist." She turned to walk haughtily to her room, but Anna caught her arm.

"Maybe not, young lady. But you know better than to accept rides from strangers. Some of the high school boys who own cars do a lot of joyriding. Next time you let someone give you a ride, make sure you know him well enough to trust him to drive careful and to bring you straight home. You got that?"

"I got it," Mallory sneered. "Loud and clear. Now if you’re through with your lecture, I want to play a CD Terry gave me." She swung her purse onto her shoulder and stalked off to her room, slamming the door.

"God, she’s getting to be a real drag since Dad . . . left," Mallory mumbled to herself as she threw her jacket on the floor.

She plopped herself down on the bed and took the CD out of her purse, peeling the wrapper off. She put it in her stereo, laid down on the bed, slipped on the earphones, and turned up the volume. Closing her eyes, she let the strident base of "Smashing Pumpkins" latest album pound her ears with noise.

With the volume turned up so high, she could close her eyes and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Chapter 4

It was the middle of March and the weather was starting to turn milder. The snow melted, albeit in a messy, ugly manner.

The estate had finally been settled and Anna’s accounts looked, at least for the time being, healthier. The insurance check had arrived three weeks earlier, so she’d been able to pay all her bills and pay off the car and furniture. Reducing her monthly bills to the house payment, heat, utilities, and food did help.

But those were enough to make her realize she’d better find some kind of job, any kind of job, soon. They weren’t eating hot dogs every night anymore. Since she was being thrifty and careful with their money, they weren't eating steak, either.

Anna made forays into the business and industrial world almost daily. She knew the ‘help-wanted’ ads well enough that a mere glance at them every night told her if there was a new job listed. Every time one turned up for which there was a remote possibility she could be hired, she applied for it the next day. Thus far she’d received only a varied list of rejections. Finally, she decided she had no choice except to take Rose’s advice and go to an employment agency downtown.

She had an interview with one this morning and dressed with care in a light blue wool dress. Once there, she filled out the multitude of forms and answered all the interviewer’s questions, just as she'd done dozens of times over the past month. The interviewer listened closely and made notations on the bottom of her application.

Then he flipped through his rotary card file. "I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you right now," he said with a shake of his head.

"Nothing?" Her spirits dropped. "You must have something I could at least apply for. You have hundreds of cards there.”

"No, nothing. You are intelligent and presentable but the fact is, nonetheless, you have no real marketable skills. If you were younger and didn’t have a family, I’d tell you to go back to school. I realize you can’t afford to take that long with the position you're in. Also, if you were younger, we might be able to place you in a job with a training program. Unfortunately such programs usually ask for applicants in their early twenties."

"Couldn’t I try applying to some places, anyway? They might consider me."

"I’m sorry. We can’t. It’s against our policy. If we sent applicants who were unqualified to companies, they’d stop using us. The word would get around that we were unreliable. We have to maintain a good reputation for reliability. It’s the only way we can stay in business."

"It sounds to as if you’re more interested in serving your companies than the individuals who apply to you."

"In this business it’s the same thing. If we don’t keep the corporations happy, we don’t get listings, and if we don’t get listings, we don’t serve anyone." His voice had turned testy and she began to wish she kept her mouth shut. He’d probably never call her now.

"If anything comes up for which you’re qualified," he said, with palpable annoyance, "I’ll let you know right away. Meanwhile, I suggest you keep looking on your own."

Anna’s shoulders sagged in defeat. "Yes, thank you, I will. I have to get a job soon." She'd had about enough of him and stood, glaring at him in anger. "I’ll make it on my own, thank you. Something will turn up soon, I'm sure." Then she stormed out of his office, furious, hurt, and disappointed.

Depressed, Anna wandered around downtown for a while, unwilling to go home and face her empty house in the mood she was in. She saw the sign for Betty’s Diner on Court Street down from the unemployment office, and decided to go in for a cup of coffee.

As she stood aside to let two elderly ladies come through the door, she noticed a small, white card tucked into the window beside the door.
‘Waitress Wanted.’

Anna’s heart skipped a beat. They needed a waitress and the sign didn’t say ‘experienced.’ She looked around her as she stepped into the diner. On the inside it looked like one of those places from a sitcom about the fifties or sixties, what was it,
Happy Days
? Only this was the real thing. They were actually playing oldies, too. She could hear the strains of “Peppermint Twist” coming from a speaker in the ceiling. It might be interesting to work in a place like this.

The diner was slightly run-down, but clean, with a row of red vinyl-covered stools in front of a gray Formica counter, and booths along one wall. Although the décor was less than glamorous, the diner did a good business, especially at lunch. Businessman and shoppers frequented it because they served good, home-style meals at reasonable prices. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was a decent, homey place, and she decided to apply for the job. Her situation was beginning to get desperate and she couldn’t afford to be choosy anymore.

After waiting for five minutes by the cash register for the waitress to get a second to come over, Anna was told the proprietress was in a small office in the rear. She knocked on the doorframe, and a small plump woman with blue-gray hair, probably Betty, looked up from a ledger. "Yes? May I help you, miss?"

Anna smiled, anxious. "I’d like to apply for the waitress job. I saw your sign in the window."

Betty looked at the expensive wool dress Anna wore, hanging below her short, black, fur jacket. The woman started to speak, perhaps to say ‘no.’

Then she looked into Anna’s eyes and something she saw there must have changed her mind. "Come in and sit down, please." She pointed to a black vinyl kitchen chair opposite her overcrowded desk.

Anna sat on the edge of her chair. "I’m afraid I have no experience."

"No doubt." Betty raised one eyebrow and sat back in her chair, chuckling. "I get the feelin’ this is the place where I’m supposed to say, ‘What’s a classy dame like you doin’ in a joint like this?’ Because lady, you don’t look like you need a job at all, let alone a waitress job in a diner."

"I know." Anna shifted in her seat and smoothed the blue wool over her knees. "I was dressed for an interview with an employment agency. The interview fell flat." As Betty raised her other eyebrow, Anna explained, "You see, I’m not really qualified for anything."

Betty shook her head. "This next question has got to be on the list of questions I’m not supposed to ask, nevertheless, my curiosity is killing me, so put an old lady out of her misery, will you? Why do you need a job like this?"

"My husband was killed in a car accident last November. We didn’t have enough insurance and now I have to get a job."

"Poor dear." Betty shook her head in sympathy. "November, you say. He wasn’t the man who was killed by that robber, was he?"

"Yes, he was."

"What an awful thing. It was a cryin’ shame. The guy who’s a criminal is never the guy who gets nailed. It’s always some poor innocent fella with a family." Her eyes were warm and sympathetic. "If you’re applyin’ here, I take it you didn’t have no luck any place else." She held up her hand. "Don’t get me wrong. I love this old place and it’s been my life for a long time, but I got no illusions. We ain’t on Times Square and this ain’t no fancy French restaurant."

"The way the man at the employment office put it," Anna said wryly, "I have no 'marketable skills.' All I have are three years of college with a useless major in English Lit. I’ve been looking for a job for four months. I’m willing to do any sort of work. I know I haven’t got any kind of waitressing experience, but I’m a good cook, and I’ll work hard. I’d learn fast. I’m sure of it."

"I admire your spunk." Betty looked down at her application. "Missus, ah, Lamoreaux, isn’t it?" Anna nodded. "I’ve got no doubt you could handle the job, and if you want it, it’s yours."

"Oh, wonderful." Anna sighed in relief. She’d finally done it. "I’m very grateful."

"I only hope you feel the same way a week from now. Got any problem with starting tomorrow? We’re pretty strapped since we lost a couple people. You’ll work Tuesdays to Saturdays, seven to three. Our biggest crowds are breakfast and lunch."

"I’ll be here." Anna secretly hoped she’d be working during the dinner hour, since that time of day was hardest for her. However, she was so thankful to have a job, she didn’t say anything. "I noticed the waitresses are wearing blue checkered uniforms. Where can I get one?"

Betty stood and turned to open the locker behind her. "I got them here. Like my girls to be all alike. What size do you need?"

"Size twelve."

"Good. I got a nice looking one in your size. Needs washing, though. And here’s a navy apron and cap. Down the street they carry white uniform shoes, like nurses wear. I suggest you get a pair this afternoon. You’ll be on your feet all day and they’ll need lots of support."

"Thanks, I will." She took the clothes and rolled them up in a bundle. "Ah, what does the job pay?"

"Minimum wage plus tips. And if you smile pretty, you get more tips."

"I’ll try." She shifted the bundle into one hand, and reached out for a handshake. "Thank you, Betty, for taking a chance on me."

"No sweat." Betty gripped her hand firmly, her gray head bobbing. "You deserve a break, if you can call this job a break."

"Oh, it is. You have no idea. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven."

Anna purchased a pair of white tie shoes that felt good on her feet, and headed for home. Now that she had the job, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have predicted, six months earlier, she would end up working in Betty’s Diner. As much as she hated to admit it, she was more than a little anxious about how everyone would react to her news.

Rose’s comment said it all. "Betty’s Diner? Oh Anna, what a dive."

Anna bristled. "No, it’s not. It’s a clean, decent place, and they serve good food. I tried some of the better restaurants and none of them would consider hiring me without experience. I have to start somewhere. I need the money."

"But the job won’t pay enough for you to meet all your bills, will it?"

"No. It’s better than nothing, though. I have some of the insurance money left. It’ll pay the difference for a while."

"But what happens when the insurance money runs out? What will you do then?"

"I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe this job will be temporary. The employment agency is continuing to look for something, I think."

"Poor Anna. You’ll be run ragged in there."

"Other people do it. I’m no different from anyone else, and it’s good, honest work."

Rose sighed. "You’re right. You’ve banged your head against the wall since Christmas, trying to find a job. I wish you’d been able to find something better. I want the best for you, Anna. Only the best."

"I’ll be fine." She squeezed Rose’s hand to reassure her.

Rose gave her fingers a return squeeze. "You’ve got a lot of guts. I admire you for what you’re doing."

"I’m just doing what I have to do."

"Still, I’m not sure I’d be as brave in your shoes."

Anna took a deep breath. "I wish I was brave. Right now I’m only scared."

Later, Mallory chose the moment when Anna was coming up the cellar stairs, slipping the clean uniform over her head, to walk into the kitchen from school. "Ugh. What’s that?"

"That," Anna said, trying to look confident and cheerful, "is a uniform."

"Huh. You look like you belong in ‘Mel’s Diner.’"

"No-not Mel’s. ‘Betty’s Diner.’"

"What?" Mallory stood stock-still.

"I got a job at Betty’s Diner on Court Street."

"You’re kidding." Mallory looked at Anna’s face and stepped back. "Mom, tell me this is a joke." She backed away further. "Some of the kids go there after school for fries and Cokes. Tell me you’re not going to be a waitress there."

"I am. But, don’t worry. I only work until 3:00, so I’ll probably be gone before much of the after school crowd shows up."

"Mom. How could you?" Mallory threw out her arms in supplication. "How could you do this to me?"

"I can do it to you," Anna said angrily, "because we are rapidly running out of money and I needed a job—fast. Do you have any idea what the payments are on this house? And the heating bills? And the electric and water bill? Telephone? Taxes? Food? I’ve looked everywhere for four months, and I’m getting desperate. I needed to find something soon or we’ll starve."

"Couldn’t you work in a factory somewhere where no one would see you?"

Anna’s arm swept in an angry arc toward Mallory. "Enough. One more word and you’ll be grounded for a week. You’re not too big to discipline yet, young lady, and won’t be for a long time. You remember that the next time you get out of line."

Mallory’s mouth quivered and she backed toward the door. "Just a minute," Anna said. "I’m not through with you yet."

Her daughter hesitated, clearly torn between her need for open rebellion and the respectful manners that had been inculcated in her over the years. She chose to stay, but half her foot was out the door before Anna even spoke.

"I want you to understand this is a good, honest job. Any job at which you work hard and give your best effort, is never something to be ashamed of. Since your father’s death, it is now my responsibility to feed, clothe, and house this family. If this job at Betty’s makes it possible, I’m grateful to have it. It’s far, far better than nothing at all. You have to accept all this. You have no choice."

Mallory eyes flashed. "You may be able to make me accept it," she said, quivering, "But you can never make me like it." She turned and fled to the sanctuary of her room.

Anna sank onto a chair and leaned back with a shaky sigh to stare the ceiling.

"What’s she mad about now?" Brian asked, sauntering through the kitchen with an apple he’d gotten from the fridge.

Oh no
.
I’m not ready for the other one yet
. Anna sat up and braced herself. "Your sister doesn’t like the job I got."

"You got a job?" Interest sparked in his eyes. He knew Anna had been looking, but he never seriously believed she’d find one. Anna could easily read his thoughts; she was his mother. She was there when he got home from school every day and she baked him cookies. Being an employee someplace didn’t jibe.