Saturday afternoon, July 12, 1947
By the time I reached Gimbels department store on Plankinton Avenue, my headache was almost gone. I rode the narrow wooden escalator to Men’s Furnishings on the third floor and stopped at the first glass counter, where a perky blonde stood, wearing a dark green jacket and matching skirt. She had a pink carnation in her lapel that matched her lips. Her name tag read “A. Quinn.”
She looked up at me and smiled as I approached. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I bought a pair of gold cufflinks in the shape of stars last week. I left them here to be engraved, and they were supposed to be ready today.”
“Yes, of course. Do you have your claim ticket?”
I took my wallet out of my suit jacket pocket and handed her the cardboard ticket. “Here you are, Miss Quinn.”
“And the name, sir?”
“Barrington. Heath Barrington.”
“One moment, please.” She smiled politely once more and went through a doorway. She returned with a small, shiny black box, which she set on the counter. Then, as if opening Tut’s tomb, she carefully opened the shiny box and set the cufflinks gingerly on the black velvet cloth she’d laid out. “Here you are, Mr. Barrington. Please take a moment to make sure everything is correct.”
I picked up one of the gold stars and looked at it closely. In script were the tiny words, “you’re a star in my eyes.” I set it back down, then picked up the other, which read in equally tiny script, “A.K. & H.B.” Satisfied, I set it back down, too.
“Yes, those are perfect. Nice job.”
“We here at Gimbels always strive to make our customers happy, Mr. Barrington. Would you like these gift wrapped?”
“Yes, please.”
“Certainly.” She returned them to the shiny black box, referred once more to the claim ticket, and said, “The balance due is two dollars and eleven cents, sir,” as a severe woman in a green organdy cloche hat and matching suit marched up to the counter next to me.
“I’m here to pick up my watch, Agatha,” the woman said, totally ignoring me.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Christie. I’ll be with you shortly,” the clerk said. “I just have to finish up with this gentleman.”
“I’m in a hurry. I’m lunching with my old friend Miss Crowley,” the severe woman said, impatiently drumming her gloved fingers atop the glass case as a middle-aged, thinly built man stepped behind the counter. He was dressed in black trousers and a sport coat the same color and style as Miss Quinn’s, with a white carnation in his lapel. He smelled of gardenias. “I’m back from my break, Miss Quinn.”
“Oh good, Mr. Collins. Would you please attend to Mrs. Christie? She’s picking up a watch she had repaired. It’s under the name Julia Christie.”
The thin man turned to the woman. “Certainly. I can take care of you, madam. Do you have your claim ticket?” His voice was a bit high and his overall appearance and mannerisms just a touch feminine, I noticed. He was not wearing a wedding ring, but he sported a large diamond on the ring finger of his right hand. His nails were shiny with clear polish.
“No, thank you. I’ll wait for Miss Quinn.” Her voice was cold and surprisingly harsh.
The man raised his thin eyebrows. “As you wish, madam.” He shrugged and moved on to the other side of the work area as I handed Miss Quinn a five-dollar bill.
“I’m almost finished here, Mrs. Christie,” the girl said as she counted out my change and gave me my receipt.
“I’ll wait. I’m in a hurry, as I said, but I can’t stand those kind of people.”
I turned to the woman then and addressed her. “What kind of people, madam?”
She looked up at me, surprised. “His kind of people.” She nodded in the direction of the male clerk. “They’re not right. My husband is a doctor, so I should know. Homosexuals are revolting.” She hissed her words like a fat snake would.
I smiled sweetly down at her. “Not yet, Mrs. Christie, but they will someday.”
Miss Quinn suppressed a giggle as I turned back to her. “Just take your purchase and your receipt to Gift Wrapping on the fifth floor. They’ll take good care of you, Mr. Barrington. Thank you for shopping at Gimbels.” She gave me that smile again. I smiled back and headed off to the fifth floor, leaving the severe Mrs. Christie looking positively baffled and annoyed.
Once the cufflinks were gift wrapped and securely in my pocket, it was time for lunch. Gimbels has a lovely little restaurant called the Forum on the street level, so I took the marble staircase down and had a turkey club on rye with a cream soda, the lunch special for eighty-nine cents. I also downed three or four glasses of water, which helped a lot. I went back up to the third floor and did a little shopping for myself, settling on some new underwear and a snazzy green and ivory polka dot tie. It was almost three thirty before I finally got back to my apartment, and I was feeling nearly like my old self. I put my new things away, discarded the wrappings, and gave my aunt Verbina a call.
“Verbina Partridge speaking.”
“It’s Heath, Auntie.”
“Oh, hello, dear. How nice to hear from you.”
“Thanks. Mother called earlier.”
“She was most annoyed about this whole thing with the theater. I’m so sorry I mentioned it, Heath.”
“It’s all right. I straightened things out. I’m taking her tomorrow.”
“Well, good. She’s my only sister, you know. I offered to let her go in my place tonight, but she’s such a martyr, and she kept making that clicking sound with her teeth. I find that quite irritating.”
I laughed. “I agree. Drives me batty. What time should I pick you up tonight?”
“Are we doing dinner first?”
“We could. I was planning on grabbing something at the diner and then picking you up, but we could go to the China Cupboard in your building.”
“I’m there much too often. Let’s go to the Circle Room in the Hotel LaSalle. Nat King Cole recorded there last year, you know. I just love him.”
“So do I. All right, the Circle Room it is. The show starts at seven, so why don’t we eat at five thirty?”
“All right, I’ll make reservations. Pick me up at five fifteen.”
“Yes, ma’am. By the way, Alan was wondering if you’d like to go for coffee after the show.”
“Oh, he was, was he?”
“Yes, Aunt ’Bina. He’d like to meet you.”
“Well, I should very much like to meet him, too. I’d say it’s high time.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“A firm yes.”
“You’ll like him, Auntie.”
“He’s special to you, Heath, and that’s enough for me.”
“Thanks, Verbina. Truly.”
“Of course, my darling. Now I must run. I want to go down to Mary’s apartment and borrow some of her new perfume for tonight. I’ll see you soon, dear.”
“Bye, Auntie.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I hung up the phone. I had just about an hour before I had to leave again, so I had a quick shave, then settled in to peruse a few chapters in my book on Ancient Greece, with illustrations.