CHAPTER SIX WELL Eleanor

The next morning, Eleanor tucked a copy of Our Nig: Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, by Harriet E. Wilson, into the front compartment of her envelope purse. Mrs. Porter had leant her a first edition, published in 1859, with the directive of caring for the book like she would a newborn. Nadine was still in bed with her satin sleep mask pulled over her eyes, and Eleanor tried not to trip over her mess of clothes on the floor and close the door behind her as quietly as possible. As she passed the dormitory’s front desk, the freshman girl monitoring the door called out to her.

“Quarles. This came for you.” She extended her hand.

Eleanor unfolded the paper as she continued outside. It was a letter from the bursar’s office directing her to stop in today before the office closed at noon. The detour would make her late for her shift at the library, but she didn’t have a choice.

The bursar’s office was on the first floor of the Administration Building on the north side of campus. When Eleanor arrived, a man with a jet-black mustache and square shoulders reiterated what she already knew: the remainder of her tuition was past due.

“Would you be able to make a payment today?” He tapped his ink pen.

“No, sir. What other options do I have?”

“Shall I inform your parents?”

“No, please don’t.” Eleanor did not want her parents working themselves even harder on her account. She quickly calculated how much was in her bank account, and what she had under the mattress in her room. It wasn’t a quarter of what she needed.

“Can I work for it?”

He pushed his bifocal glasses up his thin nose and took a closer look at her file. “I see that you already have a job at the library. We aren’t at liberty to give students more than twenty-five hours of work release. You’re already at your max.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

The man leaned back in his seat and looked Eleanor over. He sighed before flipping through a binder until he found a business card.

“Would you be willing to take a job off campus?”

“Yes. Anything. I’ll do what needs to be done.” She gripped the counter.

“Are you familiar with Ware’s?”

Ware’s was the city’s first Negro-owned and -operated department store. Nadine shopped there. Eleanor had accompanied her once when she was looking for a dress to wear to Homecoming. It was by far the classiest shopping experience in D.C., and Eleanor had been wowed by the racks of high-end fashion and the finest selection of accessories she had ever laid eyes on.

“Yes, of course.”

The man handed her a business card. “Ask for Gloria, and tell her I sent you. She’s looking to hire a new counter girl. Once you have secured the job, come back so that we can put you on a payment plan to pay off the semester. It will need to be paid in full before you register for winter classes, no exception.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go on and make Howard proud.”

Eleanor had no idea how she was going to work a second job, all while archiving the collection with Mrs. Porter and keeping her grades up, but she would have to find a way. As a child, Eleanor had been lulled to sleep by the sound of wooden spoons whipping against metal bowls, and the smell of butter, sugar and vanilla bubbling through her house as her mother baked through the night. Then with little sleep, she’d drive up and down Route 10 selling her savory cakes and flaky pies to save for Eleanor’s college education. The least Eleanor could do was handle this.

The stop put her ten minutes late for her shift, and she apologized to the clerk she was relieving. Slipping her bag under the circulation desk, she decided to start with shelving books. Saturdays were always slow, and since it was Mrs. Porter’s day off, she’d have time to write her essay arguing how the novel Our Nig was a response to Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Preparing her application for Alpha Beta Chi had Eleanor behind, but if she could get a few thoughts down while she was at work, she’d make a dent in catching up.

Eleanor arranged the books on the cart by subject and then section. The feel of the textbooks in her hand, and the syrupy, musky smell that came from the pages as she rolled the cart across the carpet, grounded her. One of the things she liked about working in the library was that everything had a proper place. Eleanor had always felt most at ease when things were categorized, neat and organized.

A telephone ringing at the circulation desk interrupted her trance, and she hurried over to answer it. She was in the middle of helping the patron over the phone when she glanced up to see William Pride, and that glorious back, sitting at his usual table in his regular chair.

He must have sensed her presence, because he turned his head slightly, and when he saw her, he dropped his pencil, pushed back his seat and stood. Eleanor cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, watching as he moved in a loose turtleneck, perfectly starched pants and polished wing-tip shoes.

She put up a finger to signal that she’d be right with him, and then jotted down the patron’s book request.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll check the shelves and give you a call right back. So long.” She hung up and turned her face to William. “Did you need some help?”

“Are you all right?” He leaned his elbows on the counter.

“What do you mean?”

“You left in such a rush last night. I never thanked you for the dance.”

“I had to. My frock was soaked from Greta’s drink,” Eleanor said, immediately regretting mentioning her name. She hoped she didn’t sound bitter or jealous.

His jet-black eyes softened. “I looked for you.”

Eleanor remembered. “I didn’t give you back your handkerchief. I’m planning to wash it by hand.”

He waved away her words. “Give it to me on Friday. I have an extra ticket to the Lincoln Theatre. Would you like to be my guest?”

“Me?” Her eyes fluttered.

“Don’t tell me you have to study either.” He tilted his smooth chin, and Eleanor pictured her lips pressed against the tip of it.

“I believe I’m free,” she said, smiling.

William pushed a piece of paper toward her, instructing her to write down her dorm information. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”


A few days later, Nadine unrolled a curler from the front of her hair. She sat on the edge of her bed in a satin slip watching Eleanor with a look of shock. “William Pride asked you out?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“When did this happen?”

“Saturday. And I was able to get a pass to leave all by myself.” Eleanor stood looking at the dresses on her side of the closet.

“I went to Dunbar High with his younger brother, Theodore—Teddy. He was in my biology class and so easy on the eyes,” Nadine chuckled. “I’m surprised you said yes—you never say yes to anything other than an extra shift at the library.”

“Ha ha ha. It’s just one little date.”

“The Lincoln Theatre is a big date, Ohio. Those tickets aren’t easy to come by.” Nadine stamped out her cigarette and walked to where Eleanor stood at the closet. “What are you wearing? You know William Pride is studying to be a doctor.”

Eleanor pulled out her pine-green dress with the Peter Pan collar. It was the nicest one she owned, sewn by the hands of her mother’s best friend. She hadn’t worn it much, and instead had saved it for a special occasion. The last time she put it on was for the ABCs interest meeting, and remembering their rejection put a frown on her lips. Nadine interrupted her thoughts by taking the dress from her and hanging it back in the closet.

“While it’s a darling dress, Ohio, you said William Pride and the Lincoln.”

“So?”

“A girl going out on the town with a handsome doctor-to-be needs something slightly more sophisticated.” Nadine rummaged around until she held a royal-purple swing frock with cap sleeves and a fitted bodice. It was even more beautiful than the last one Eleanor had borrowed.

Eleanor’s face reddened. “I don’t need you dressing me. You see what happened to the last frock you lent me.” She thought about the ruined dress at the back of her closet. With her tuition payment past due, she had no idea when she’d have the extra money to carry it to the dry cleaners. But Nadine brushed her comment aside.

“You know fashion is my forte. Besides, William Pride is a big fish. We need to pull out all the stops so that you can reel him in.”

“Who said anything about reeling anyone in? He’s just being polite. A penance for his good friend Greta Hepburn spilling pop all over me. We practically bathed together,” Eleanor mocked Greta’s shrill voice, and Nadine tipped over from laughing.

“I doubt that he’s thinking about her, Ohio. Like I said, tickets to the Lincoln don’t come easy. If they were such good friends, why didn’t he invite her?” With both hands, she presented the sparkling frock.

Eleanor knew she would be daft not to take it. Sighing, she slipped into the dress. Then allowed Nadine to brush pink blush onto her cheeks. When she looked in the mirror, a giddiness came over her that she couldn’t deny.

“There. You are as stunning as Lena Horne in Stormy Weather.” Nadine beamed.

Members of the opposite sex were not permitted past the front lounge in the girl’s dormitory, so when William arrived to pick Eleanor up, a junior who lived down the hall knocked to let her know.

“Last looks.” She faced Nadine, tugging at the petticoat under her frock, making sure everything was smooth and in place. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m meeting a gentleman caller later to go to the shake show at the Cave.” She shimmied her shoulders.

“Isn’t that after curfew?”

“Don’t worry about me. You just enjoy yourself, Ohio. I’ll be back by morning.” She gave Eleanor one of her wicked grins.

Even after rooming together all last year, Eleanor couldn’t figure out how Nadine got away with breaking all the rules, while never paying the consequences. When Eleanor turned the corner into the lounge, she noticed two girls pretending to read on the sofa, but their eyes kept floating up at William.

He stood by the fireplace, wearing a tailored navy suit. A stingy brim fedora centered on his head, with a slight tilt forward, lending him an air of mystery. When he moved to greet her, she inhaled that same mysterious scent. She decided it was more bergamot than bark.

“You look lovely.” He took her gloved hand and kissed it, sending tingles up her wrist. “Shall we?”

Eleanor linked her arm around his steady bicep, happy with herself for listening to Nadine’s dressing advice. Outside, the sun had set, stripping the warmth of the fall day with it, but as Eleanor walked next to William, her skin felt humid. She loosened the top button of her coat. Passing men said hello to William, and he shook a few hands as they walked through the yard.

“You seem to know a lot of people,” she commented.

“I lived in that dormitory right over there.” He pointed, then reached into his pocket for the key.

Eleanor didn’t know much about cars, but his, parked beneath a red maple tree, was far nicer than the badly corroded Chevy that her father drove. Inside, the car was still warm from his ride over, and as Eleanor settled in, she realized that she could stretch her feet forward without them sinking through rusty holes in the sheet metal like they had in the old Chevy. In William’s car, even the floor mats were plush. She folded her hands so she wouldn’t fidget. Being this close to Mr. Back, alone on a date, was making her more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room filled with rocking chairs.

“So where did you say you were from?” William switched gears and merged into traffic. The engine revved softly, and it felt like the wheels barely touched the street.

“Ohio. Not far from Cleveland” was the best way to explain Elyria, which most people had never heard of. “You?” Eleanor asked, not wanting to reveal that she already knew he was from D.C.

“Born and bred right here in the nation’s capital.”

Eleanor watched the city pass her by through the window. She loved how vibrant and pulsing D.C. was in comparison to the drab, industrial town of Elyria. “It must have been nice growing up in such a thriving city, with everything right at your fingertips.”

“Hard to say since it’s all I know. You must be from a small town.”

“Tiny is more like it.”

“Well, sweet people usually come out of tight communities.” William winked, and his attention made her feel gushy all over.

He circled the block a few times, and then found a parking space on 12th Street at the corner of T. The theater was a brick building, with “Lincoln” spelled out brightly in lights. The white billboard held the names of several upcoming acts. Pictures of past performers, including Pearl Bailey, Ella Fitzgerald, Cab Calloway and Duke Ellington, were posted in oversized frames along the wall around the entrance. While they stood in line, Eleanor watched the crowd of well-groomed men and stylish women chat excitedly as they waited their turn to enter. William produced two tickets from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed them to the usher. They walked through a second set of doors, and her heels sank into the thick burgundy carpet. The usher stopped at the third row.

“How is this?” William turned to her.

Eleanor looked up at the wide stage. She could almost touch it. She had never sat so close to a performance. In fact, she’d hardly been to any performances at all, outside of the Christmas shows in her church’s basement back home.

“It’s perfect,” she said with a smile. It really was.

Once they were comfortable with soft drinks, the heavy velvet curtains rolled back, and a man dressed in a black suit wearing a top hat crossed the stage. He entertained the audience with his impressions of movie stars and politicians. Once he had the crowd fired up, he paused from his antics and introduced the main event.

“All the way from Newark, New Jersey. She’s been called Sassy, the Divine One, one of the greatest voices in the business, I give you Miss Sarah Vaughan.”

The crowd burst into applause. Eleanor could not believe her eyes as Sarah Vaughan pranced across the stage in a gold, beaded, slim-fitted dress that dazzled under the lights. Then Sarah put her mouth to the microphone, declaring in a tiny voice, “I must apologize in advance. This morning I came down with a cold. So, we will just see what happens.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Then out of her mouth came a voice so voluptuous, it embraced Eleanor with every leap and swoop. Vaughan sang every song that Eleanor had heard over the radio, and then a few more. It wasn’t until she took her final bow and disappeared behind the curtains that Eleanor felt like she could breathe again.

“That was magnificent.” She turned to William, touching her hand to her chest. “The best I’ve ever seen. Thank you.”

His eyes glistened. “It’s my pleasure. You seem as big a fan as I am.”

William reached for Eleanor’s hand to help her from her seat, and she felt warmed by his touch. They poured out of the theater toward the exit sign. Some patrons turned right for the front door, but William guided Eleanor left, and then down another set of stairs that led to a ballroom. A five-piece band was onstage playing a familiar tune.

“Care to dance, baby?”

Eleanor nodded, liking the way baby sounded on his lips. They walked to the center of the room, stopping under a twinkling silver ball. When he reached for her, their bodies collided with a familiarity that both delighted and surprised her. William moved like a man who was comfortable in his skin, and Eleanor swung her hips to match his tempo. Then the music slowed to a soft whine, and William stepped even closer. With her right hand in his, he pulled her to his chest. Eleanor could feel his heart racing against the swell of her breasts, and when she relaxed her forehead against his cheek, she had never felt so complete.

They stayed like that. Her hand tucked inside his, hips sighing against each other’s, until the world went still. Eleanor didn’t even hear the music, only the sound of William’s ragged breath against her ear. When she finally opened her eyes, and caught the clock over his shoulder, the silent spell was broken.

“I need to go. Curfew.”


William raced down U Street, and they hustled back through the yard.

“I’ll be right out.” Eleanor tossed him her best smile, hoping that he’d be okay with waiting for her.

In the lobby, her dorm matron looked up from her crossword puzzle. “Just in the nick of time.” She tapped her watch.

“May I have a few extra minutes to thank my gentleman caller?”

“Don’t stay too long and appear desperate for his attention.” Her voice was stern.

Outside, William leaned against the metal railing with his hat in his hand. He was so breathtaking in his suit and overcoat that Eleanor could hardly stand to look at him full on.

“My dorm matron runs things like a martinet. That woman is way too serious.” She met him at the bottom of the stairs. “I bet they don’t even pay her well.”

William laughed at her joke. “Well, I’m glad I got the princess back to the castle on time.”

“If only my dorm matron was as sweet as a real queen.” Eleanor batted her eyes and then remembered. “You must want your handkerchief back. I can run and—”

“I’ll get it next time.” William’s eyes locked with hers and blood rushed to her temples. He wanted there to be a next time.

“You up for that?”

“Only if you promise to watch the clock. Otherwise, I’ll be expelled from the kingdom, and we can’t have that.” She giggled, loving the way his face honeyed into a smile.

“Tomorrow then?”

Eleanor bit her bottom lip, for she wanted to say yes, but she was starting her new job at the department store.

“I work a full shift at Ware’s,” she explained.

“So, I can pick you up from work then?”

“Really?”

“After standing on your feet all day, I can’t have you out there waiting on a bus, baby,” he said smiling, and she noticed a dimple on his left cheek.

“Well.” Eleanor gazed up at him. “Until then.”

William leaned his face toward hers, kissing her cheek. His lips marked her skin. What she wouldn’t have given for the nerve to grab his chin and kiss him right.

“Good night.”

Eleanor could feel him watching the curve of her behind as she walked up the stairs, and after months of staring at his back in the library, it made her giddy that it was his turn to take in her backside. When she reached her room, she slid open her top drawer for his handkerchief. It still smelled faintly of bergamot, and she draped it across her pillow.