Chapter Five

Hannah had a new vitality, a new bounce to her step, and she didn’t care who noticed. John had held her hand and hadn’t even gotten angry when she confessed using his name to get Eddie to stop asking her out. She’d been a little wary at work, but the lighting technician had stayed away, as if he accepted she was dating someone else.

As if a cherry had been added to her sundae, today, she and John were having meat with their dinner. He had gotten a half-pound of ground beef, and she fixed spaghetti with meat balls for dinner. She’d cooked all the meat, adding a small onion for flavor, but they’d only be eating half tonight. With the other half in the refrigerator for another night.

In the pocket of her sweater was all the rent money except from Mr. Nolan. Best she could figure, she barely had the five minutes to stop by his apartment. Her hand was raised to knock when John entered the lobby.

“Hey, pretty lady.”

She loved how he’d started greeting her. Working with movie stars all day tended to leave her feeling bland and unexciting. He had a way of brightening the day and making her believe what he said.

“Hey, yourself. I have one more rent to collect, and then we can go up. Dinner is ready.”

“Wonderful. Today was grueling, and I missed lunch. But while I’m thinking about it, I have something to ask you.”

She turned to face him, still wondering how she happened to get such a handsome tenant who was so kind and generous. He had her full attention. “Sure. What is it?”

“I can’t believe my luck,” he started, taking her hand and smiling down into her eyes. “I’m new at Hughes Aircraft, but I’ve been invited to cocktails and dinner at a party my boss is hosting this Saturday—and I can bring a guest. Would you like to join me?”

Her heart thudded, then raced as she reached out to grab his arm. John could have asked anyone, but he’d chosen her.

“Are you kidding?” Joy bubbled up and overflowed in a smile she couldn’t seem to wipe from her face. She didn’t even care that she sounded like a child being offered a special prize. “I can’t believe it. I’ve seen him at the studio, at a distance, but never up close—never so close that I could reach out and touch him,” she added, a giggle slipping out.

“Do you have something to wear to a cocktail party?”

“No…yes,” she amended, thrilled at the memory of her mother’s blue dress hanging in the back of her closet.

Thank you, Mom.

“Wonderful. Now, let’s hurry and get Mr. Nolan’s rent so we can have dinner. I’m starved.” He squeezed her hand just before releasing it.

Hannah turned away and knocked on the apartment door. “Since you missed lunch, you’ll love what we’re having.”

“Come in,” came the muffled call.

John followed her inside. She could well imagine what Mr. Nolan would say about him being with her. He’d already hinted that the new tenant “was cut from a good bolt of cloth.”

The older man’s face lit when he saw them enter. “Why, stars alive. Hannah, honey, I think you latched onto a keeper this time.” Then he added an exaggerated wink.

“Mr. Nolan, you’re a mess.” She glanced over her shoulder before turning back to the man. Thankfully, John was laughing. “Have you met John Staples?”

“Seen him leaving for work in the mornings and spoke to him once.” He reached out to shake. “My mind’s a bit fuzzy. Where did you say you’re from, boy?”

“Mobile, Alabama.”

“Thought I detected the accent,” he announced, cackling when he laughed. “Can spot ’em every time. I’ve always loved the way people talk down in the deep South.”

Hannah smiled over at John, noting his lack of embarrassment. “Um,” she started, turning back to the elderly man. “I’m here for the rent, and we’re in a bit of a rush, but I thought you might find it interesting that John works over at Hughes Aircraft. He designs planes.” She knew the warmth around her neck meant her face had flushed a deep pink—a dead give-away that she saw John as special, and something her tenant wouldn’t miss.

The older man grinned, then turned his gaze toward him. “So he told me when we met. Got us another engineer. Designed and built bridges in my day,” he said, nodding.

Hannah had listened to the man’s stories and knew how proud he was about his accomplishments.

“We’ll have to talk sometime, young man.” He reached out to shake hands again. “Yes, a definite keeper,” he added with another wink in her direction. “Rent payment is over on the counter.”

Hannah picked up the money, then gave the older man a quick wave before leaving with John and heading upstairs. “Isn’t he a card?”

“I can tell he’s fond of you, and I look forward to talking with him one of these days. He’s the kind of man I wish I’d had for a grandfather while growing up. I bet he has a lot of knowledge to share.”

“I’ve known him all my life, and I’ve always seen him as a grandfather. I didn’t have a father or grandparents, so he filled the void.” She unlocked her apartment door and led the way in. “I’ll need about three or four minutes to warm the meal. Why don’t you turn on the radio and relax until it’s ready?”

“I’ll set the table.”

John had talked a bit about his mama, but already, Hannah knew she’d like the woman. Anyone who taught a young man to help out in the kitchen was okay in her book.

“You and your mother look so much alike.”

She glanced around to see him holding the photo, staring intently at it. “Yes. Isn’t she lovely?”

“You look like sisters in this picture.”

“Thank you. Mother said I have my father’s eyes—and the shape of his toes,” she said, laughing softly. “She was very young when she had me, and then with my father being killed in the line of duty, she was left with the huge responsibility of raising me alone.” She struck a match and used it to light the stove’s gas burner under the pot of spaghetti.

“You said there’s no other family, right?”

She shook her head.

“Not even any fellow police officers coming by to help out?”

Again, she shook her head. She’d often wondered why she had no family and why her mother never dated or remarried. The one time she’d asked, the answer had been vague. Something about there being one who came by every so often to check on her after she’d given birth, but then he’d gone into the Army, and she’d never seen him again. She hadn’t asked again until her late teens, and then the answer had been simple and understandable. The love she had for her deceased husband was still strong, and she’d never dishonor him. Her mother’s story would have made a great movie.

John returned the picture to its spot and set the table by the time the green beans and spaghetti were hot.

Very little was said during dinner. Hannah’s mind had been thrust back in time, making it difficult to carry on a regular conversation. There were so many unanswered questions. She knew almost nothing about her extended family. She’d always wondered if the families had been against the marriage or if her mother had gotten pregnant before getting married, so everyone had looked down on her. Now, the answers were buried forever.

Guilt kept John quiet during dinner. Sadie Montgomery had made her fake husband out to be a hero any little girl could be proud to call Daddy—a man totally opposite of the one who gave Hannah life.

He took a long drink of water, keeping his gaze downcast. The situation was only getting worse as time went on. The problem lay in knowing the truth—keeping an important truth from someone was nothing more than lying, and he hated lying to her.

His contempt for Vince grew daily. How could the man treat him like a son one minute and put him in a position to spy on someone the next?

Then reality settled in.

No, I can’t blame him. I agreed to the suggestion. It’s my own fault.

In the middle of berating himself for being stupid, the wall phone out in the hall began to ring.

“Oh, I have to get that. Be right back.”

He watched her dart out the door. Before the third ring, he heard her answer the call.

“Hello? Yes, ma’am. Actually, he’s right here. Please hold on.”

John pushed the chair back and was already standing when she entered the apartment.

“The call is for you. It’s your mother.”

“Thanks.” He stepped into the hall and pulled the door almost closed behind him. “Hi, Mother. How are you?” He pressed the receiver to his ear, trying to hear her over the static on the line.

“Hi, Johnny. I’m fine, but I haven’t heard from you in a month of Sundays. I just needed to know you’re okay way out there in California.”

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m fine. Work is good, and my apartment is great.”

“Are you eating enough?”

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve struck a deal with Hannah, my landlady. I buy some of the food, and she cooks my dinner every night.”

Despite the youthful-sounding Hannah having answered the phone, he knew his mother like the back of his hand. She’d assume the young woman was a neighbor—not the manager of a boardinghouse. No, she’d picture a plump, older lady, and him eating the prepared food in his own apartment—alone.

Now wasn’t the time to enlighten her.

“Oh, I’m relieved to hear that.”

He held the phone, waiting for her to continue, but all he heard was static. “Mother? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m trying to find a good way to ask you about Vince.”

“Vince?” He straightened. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I’ve seen a guy hanging around lately, and I wanted to be sure he has nothing to do with your stepfather checking up on me.”

“I doubt that—not after all these years.” Still, John didn’t like the sound of someone hanging around his mother. He’d have to be sure to call and ask.

“Okay, I won’t worry about it.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry, but I’d keep my eyes open and be careful.”

“That makes sense.”

She was too quiet. This didn’t sound like his mother. “Do you want me to tell you one more time that I’m not working for him?”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

She had a point, but it still saddened him to have her doubt his word. “I work for Howard Hughes. Period.”

He waited, but she remained silent. It didn’t take a genius to realize his mother needed something—needed him. This issue wasn’t going to be settled over the phone. Mr. Hughes had invited him to join a meeting in Atlanta, Georgia, the following week, and if he could arrange to go a day or two early, he could stop off in Alabama and talk with her face-to-face.

With the decision made, his shoulders relaxed. “Mother, I have to fly to Atlanta next week, if I can arrange it, I’ll come for a quick visit. We can talk more then, okay?”

Silence.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’d love to see you. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Talk to you then. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

John stood staring at the box hanging on the wall long after he hung up the receiver. What was going on? Without wasting time, he dialed the operator and gave her the number in New York. It took a few minutes, but after going through their security process, Vince soon came on the line.

“Hey, boy. How’s it going out your way?”

“Hi. I’m fine, but in a hurry, so I’ll get right to the point. First, I’ll be paying my own rent from now on,” he began pointedly. “Second, I need to know if you have someone watching my mother.” His heart thundered, beating numerous times before his stepfather finally spoke.

“I won’t lie to you. Yes, I have someone keeping an eye on her—always have. Why?”

“She knows about it—noticed the guy—and she’s afraid.”

A heavy sigh crossed the line. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t want her frightened.”

“Thanks. I have to go. Talk with you soon.”

“Hey…”

John hung up the phone, not wanting to get into a discussion about Hannah or the rent issue. Did Vince have someone watching him? He stood with his head leaned back against the wall and eyes closed, drawing several deep breaths and releasing them slowly before he turned and entered Hannah’s apartment.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. My mother just wanted to be sure I was okay and eating enough.” He joined her when she laughed.

“Well, I can’t blame her. If I had a son living a couple thousand miles away, I’d probably worry a little bit, too.” She stood to clear the coffee table. “You left the apartment door open, so I couldn’t help but hear you mention the name, Vince. Is that a relative of yours?”

Her question slammed into his chest. He took an extra few moments to pick up his dishes and follow her into the kitchen, giving himself time to decide what to say. “Not really. It’s someone my mother knows.” Liar, liar, liar.

“Will you get to see him when you visit your mother next week?”

“No, he doesn’t live in Alabama.” At least that’s the truth.

She stood absently staring toward the dishes, her hands motionless on the edge of the sink. “You know, I’d love to see this country. I’ve never been outside Los Angeles.”

“I would, too, but I’d want to drive. I flew here from Alabama, so I saw only clouds.” Setting the dishes on the counter, he turned to lean back against the cupboard, casually sticking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Where would you like to visit?”

Hannah ran water into the sink and added detergent, swishing it around to make bubbles before she put the dishes and coffee cups in to soak.

“I’d love to see the Grand Canyon, for one thing, and the East coast. I’m told the shores along the Atlantic Ocean are totally different from the Pacific Ocean shoreline. Have you been to many states?”

“Alabama, Arkansas, New Jersey, New York, and California,” he answered, ticking off fingers of one hand.

“Five states. Goodness, that’s exciting. Oh, I’d love to visit New York, too, and see a show on Broadway.”

“I can understand your interest, but Broadway was adversely affected when the talking movies started.”

“Do you think it’ll kill the stage industry?” She handed him a plate to dry.

“I doubt it. Everyone loves theater. There’s something special about seeing a play where the people act out the show live.”

She tilted her head slightly and stared at him. “It sounds like you enjoy the stage.”

“My mother used to take me before…well, before she left my stepfather and moved back to Mobile.”

She finished washing the rest of the dishes, unplugged the sink, and allowed the soapy water to run down the drain. “Did you get along with your stepdad?”

“Oh yeah.” He set the dried dishes on the cupboard shelf before continuing. “He was always very good to me.”

“What was he like?”

John swallowed. He was digging himself into a hole. “The man is a deep and colorful story that will take a while to tell. Can I get into him another time? I have some blueprints I need to go over this evening.”

He hung the dish towel on the peg near the stove and headed to the door while she trailed behind. Before stepping out into the hall, he turned and smiled down into her upturned face. He couldn’t miss the disappointment in her expressive, blue eyes.

He hesitated, almost changing his mind, but the urge to distance himself from her questions overrode any guilt. “Don’t forget about tomorrow night. Hughes is sending a car at six o’clock to take us to the Beverly Hills Hotel.” Thankfully, her eyes lit up, and a broad smile spread across her face. His shoulders relaxed.

“Oh, John, I’m so excited about the party. I’ve heard about that hotel, even ridden past it, and I’m dying to see inside.”

Her enthusiasm and joy at the outing made him feel good, but going home early meant some long, lonely hours before going to bed. He’d miss listening to her soft voice and seeing her shy smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. She was exciting—but she was Vince’s daughter.

That fact must never be forgotten.

He beat a hasty retreat, glad to be off the hot seat and away from her curiosity about Vince.

At least for the moment.