Twenty

So this was what it felt like to have one’s future completely outside their control. Art wrestled with the eighty-pound weight that dogged his steps. Most days he could leave it outside the door when he came home. Today, it followed him inside.

The sight of Josie and Cassandra working a puzzle on the table eased the burden.

“How was your day?” Josie’s smile warmed his heart.

“Another day at the office.”

Cassandra looked up, puzzle piece held in one hand. “Dad used to say that all the time. Before the war.”

Art rumpled her curls. “He’ll say it again after the British sweep the Germans back behind their borders.”

She frowned at him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” When did she become a little adult? “Anyway, I’m starved. What will you ladies prepare?”

“Grilled cheese and soup. Simple is the order of the day.” Josie pushed back from the table but laid another piece in the puzzle as she stood. “I think this may yet shape into something. Cassandra, what’s your guess?”

Cassandra eyed the misshapen image. So many gaps remained, Art wondered that she even attempted to determine how it would look.

“The Statute of Liberty?”

Art studied the lines of blues and slashes of gray. Maybe she had it.

“Great guess. I told you we’d get there.” Josie pulled the puzzle box lid from under her chair. “Maybe this will help us after all.”

“Will you help me, Art?” Cassandra’s soft brown eyes pleaded with him.

How could he say no?

He settled at the table and watched her a moment.

“You have to do more than watch.”

“Of course. But you have to show me the box. I can’t do it without a picture. Not the prize puzzle-maker you are.”

She laughed and pulled it from under the table. “Don’t show me.”

“All right.” He studied the photo of the Statute of Liberty and groaned. The colors were so similar. “I have to warn you, I’m terrible at puzzles. Always mess them up.”

“How?” She looked as if she didn’t believe him.

“Putting the wrong pieces together. My mother always accused me of forcing pieces to match that weren’t supposed to.” He picked up a red piece and crammed it next to a light blue one.

“Now I see.” Cassandra separated the pieces. “Maybe you should watch.”

Josie’s soft chuckle tickled his ear. He looked up to find her standing next to his chair with a plate of food. “Here are some appetizers for the puzzle-piecers.”

“Thanks. I think Cassandra’s right.” He jammed another couple of pieces together. “My role may be to cheer her on.”

“No. I think you should sort them all by color.” A mischievous light filled Cassandra’s eyes. As he considered the mishmash of pieces, he understood why. It would take someone a year to sort the tiny pieces into the correct piles.

He tweaked her nose, and she squealed.

❧

“So what’s with the old man?” Stan rolled his chair closer to Art’s desk.

Art tried to ignore Stan and the fact Grandfather strolled the halls of E. K. Fine’s Piano Company again today. Didn’t he have a dozen other companies to run?

“Didn’t mean to get you all worked up with that question.” Stan put his hand up, palm out, in front of him. “I’ll head on back to my desk. My ledgers.” His chair wheels squeaked in protest.

After a deep breath, Art pinched his nose and tried to think. He grabbed his mug and took a gulp, then sputtered as the steamy bitter liquid burned his tongue and throat.

Charlie glanced up from the work spread on top of his desk. “You okay?”

Art shook his head as he tried to breathe. Charlie jumped up to help, and Art held up a hand to stop him. “Scorched my mouth.”

“All right?”

“I will be.” Art set the mug down and watched Grandfather enter the office. “Why do you think he’s here again?”

“Determining whether you’re ready for more.”

Stan snorted. “And pianos are perfectly matched to his investment strategy.”

“I don’t know. Grandfather usually leaves tours to others.” But his grandson didn’t work at other companies.

“Here comes the big cheese.” Stan sounded a little too chipper. What did he have up his sleeve?

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Grandfather’s gaze stopped on Art and a faint smile tweaked his face. Art felt Charlie watching him with questions growing by the moment. Grandfather allowed E.K. to introduce him to a few employees. He stopped at Art’s desk. “Art. How are Josie and Cassandra?”

“Fine, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be back after the tour.”

It took effort to force his thoughts to the task the company paid him to do, but he eventually marshaled his mind to the streams of data. Soon he was immersed in the numbers, sorting out and anticipating problems.

A shadow fell over his desk and he looked up. Grandfather stood over him.

“I’d like a word with you.” While phrased as a request, Grandfather left no question this was not an offer Art could avoid.

“I can take a short break.”

Grandfather leaned on his cane a bit as they walked down the hall and into a vacant office. “Sit.”

Art sank on the edge of a chair as Grandfather stood over him. “My sources have told me about the projects you’re working on. You’ve done well, but you could do more.”

“I haven’t been here a year.” Art clamped his mouth shut.

“Art, you have the potential to be more than a bookkeeper, but you have to think and act like a manager.”

Art wiped a hand over his face. “I expect that will take time. I know I’m new. I’m learning all I can and hope to be promoted in time.”

“Humor me. Show me what you can do. Not everyone is willing to work. But that’s what’s needed to stand out from everyone else.” Grandfather leaned forward. “You got that fancy college education. Put it to work. And not simply by making sure numbers are in the correct column. There’s much more you could do.”

Art caught the challenge in his grandfather’s eyes. “All right. What do you expect?”

“To see how far you’ll push yourself. How hard you’ll work. Instincts. . .they can’t be taught.”

Art couldn’t make heads or tails out of the innuendo Grandfather expected him to understand. But he saw the challenge and was ready to tackle it. He’d work hard, show Grandfather what he’d learned. And some day, he’d move up.

❧

Josie looked at the invitation. With a flick of her wrist, she added a flower to the corner. There. Now it looked perfect.

She’d grown tired of the feeling she couldn’t help Art with his job, so she’d decided to do something about it. Charlie’s wife, Diane, had jumped in to help her compile a list of the wives of the managers and others in Art’s department. Josie thought a tea would serve as an opportunity to get to know them and learn more about the company. While Art had worked there for almost a year, Josie didn’t know much about it at all. Now, family owned the company.

She looked at the stack of envelopes and felt excited. She’d loved helping Mama with faculty parties. She should have done this before.

Cassandra and her new friend from school, Ruth, helped her bake cookies and tarts the day before the tea. By the time they finished, Cassandra and Ruth were covered in flour, and the kitchen rang with laughter. The day of the tea, Josie spent the morning making petite egg salad sandwiches. Cucumber would have finished the table, but the season had passed. When Diane arrived an hour before the event, she arranged the treats artfully on plates.

The table didn’t look right without Mama’s Wedgwood china, but her simple dishes would have to do. Hopefully, the women would come for the chance to get out of the house and meet others rather than to inspect her possessions.

As the clock ticked closer to two o’clock, the butterflies took up residence in her stomach. She pressed a hand against it and moaned.

“Are you okay, Josie?” Diane looked at her, brow crinkled.

“I will be once everybody gets here.”

“Even if it’s a few, it will be a great start. No one’s done anything like this before.”

“Leave it to me to lead the way.” Ugh, nausea boiled in her throat.

A light knock echoed off the door. Josie hurried to open it. A prim-looking woman in a broad-banded hat stood on the landing. “Are you Mrs. Miller?”

Josephine smiled and extended her hand. “I am. Please come in.” The woman handed over her raincoat. Josie took it and gestured to her petite friend. “This is Diane Sloan.”

“Pleased to meet you both.” Her gray curls bobbed against the back of her neck.

Josephine opened her mouth to ask who the first woman was, when heels clicked against the stairs. She turned to find a haggard-looking woman huffing to the top of the stairs. “Stars and garters, you should warn a soul about how many stairs there are to climb.” She leaned against the doorframe and fanned her face. “I’ll think twice about coming again.”

The first woman waved a hand in the air as if brushing a snowflake from her nose. “Don’t worry about Melanie. She tends toward the dramatic.”

“Josie, this fine woman is Mrs. Jonathan Allen.” Diane smiled sweetly at the gray-haired woman. “And Melanie is Mrs. Josiah Trumble.”

Melanie frowned at Mrs. Allen. “If I tend on the dramatic, she lands toward the cold side of things.”

Josie gasped. Had Melanie really insulted her guest? This tea time would implode before it even got underway. She closed her mouth and gestured toward the sitting area. If the verbal sparring continued like this, the apartment wasn’t big enough to contain everyone. “Why don’t you have a seat? Can I take anyone else’s coat?”

With the ease of a woman fully content in her own skin, Diane settled nerves and eased the conversation into politer veins while Josie pulled the teakettle toward the hotter part of the stove. Three more women joined them in time for the tea and treats. While the women filled their plates, Josie pulled Diane to the side.

“Remind me how each woman fits into the company.”

“Mrs. Allen is the wife of the vice president. Mr. Allen is a second cousin to the Fine family. Mrs. Trumble’s husband is new. He may have come with the new buyer.” Diane spoke discretely, smiling serenely the entire time. “Then there’s our husbands.”

“I think I know what they do.”

“Your challenge will be to keep Mrs. Allen happy. Rumor has it, she has the ear of her husband, and he does as he’s told.”

Josie threw a lemon tea cookie and tiny biscuit sandwich on her plate. The spicy mustard tickled her taste buds, and she hoped it did the same for the others. Quiet murmurs filled the edges of the room as the women enjoyed the snacks. After a bit, the women focused on Josie.

“Why did you invite us over?” Mrs. Allen’s tone was light, but an edge carved through the air between them.

“I thought it would be nice to meet all of you. Our husbands work together, after all.” A series of blank faces stared back at her. Was it so hard to believe she wanted to meet them? Diane gestured for her to continue. Josie swallowed. She had a good idea. Doris had loved it and encouraged her to take on the project. Surely, these women would agree.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melanie squinted at her.

“What? Um, no. Actually, I had an idea.” Several women leaned away from her as if to get as far from her as possible. Josie cleared her throat. “A church in this part of town provides relief to many of the city’s poor.” A couple of the ladies wrinkled their noses. “Many children receive help through meals. But I thought it would be wonderful if we helped by taking on the project of ensuring each of those children receives a Christmas present and stocking.”

Mrs. Allen snorted. “That’s their parents’ responsibility.”

“Not if the parents don’t have jobs.”

A younger woman raised her hand. “I actually think it’s a good idea. It would be fun to shop for children.”

“And whose money will you use?” Mrs. Allen looked down her nose at the woman. “It doesn’t sprout from the ground.”

Josie tried to smile around the lump in her throat. “Art and I could contribute a bit, and I think others would, too.”

Diane brought a plate of cookies around. “I’ve already talked to several friends from my church who would like to contribute. The children won’t expect anything extravagant, after all.”

“You may waste your time if you choose. However, I have other ways to waste my time.” Mrs. Allen stood, back ramrod straight. “I’ll take my wrap.”

Josie scurried to get it for her, then watched in shock as she swept from the apartment. In quick succession, the others left. She stared after them. “What just happened?”