Chapter Three: Kennedy Elementary School
“Those photographs along that wall are from the days when the building was a school,” Brian said, nodding his head to their left. “One of nearly every headmaster and principal.”
“They don’t look very happy,” Sue said.
“Is anyone ever happy at school?” Brian said with a laugh.
“I loved school,” Ellen said.
“I bet you did,” he replied.
Ellen wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and she didn’t ask.
Brian added, “Around here, we say not to run in the halls because you might spill your beer.”
Sue and Tanya laughed. Ellen was still ruminating over his last comment.
Brian led them past the gymnasium, which had been rented for the evening by a local high school for their prom, to the Boiler Room—a brick, industrial restaurant and bar filled with pipes and eclectic art work and people. Open stairs led down to a lower level, and elaborate pipework took the place of railing. It wasn’t a big room, but the height made it feel enormous, and there were so many interesting things to look at, including a bronze bust of a jester wearing a many-pointed hat. Across from it was a life-size statue of an African tribal woman.
“This is my favorite room in the joint,” Brian said from where they peered through the doorway. “When you’re hungry for dinner, I recommend the Cajun Tots and Hammerhead Cheesesteak Sandwich.”
Sue beamed. “Those sound delicious. I love trying new things.”
“And check out the bends in the pipes. Some of them have faces painted on them.”
“How different,” Tanya said.
As they continued down the hall, past a Detention Bar and Honors Bar, Sue asked, “I guess you send the naughty customers to the Detention Bar.”
“That would be you, Sue,” Tanya said.
Brian chuckled. “They send themselves there. We play opera in the Honors Bar, for the more sophisticated clientele.”
Across the hall, a sign read, “Brewery.”
“That’s where all the magic happens,” Brian said. “When you’re ready, I’d love for you to try our sampler—my treat. All six of our hand-crafted beers on one platter.”
“I suppose, if you’re going to twist our arms,” Sue teased.
Brian laughed again. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you?”
With her quick wit, Sue replied, “Unfortunately, people aren’t usually referring to my sense of humor when they say that about me.”
That made them all laugh.
Then Brian said, “The Cypress Room is another restaurant and bar where we play reggae music and offer an extensive list of international rum. There’s more interesting pipe structures and colorful light fixtures to look at. I wouldn’t eat dinner there because the menu is limited to things like pizza, sandwiches, and burgers—all good, but not if you’re looking for something different.”
Tanya pointed to another rectangular signage jutting from the next doorway. “What’s the Courtyard Restaurant?”
Through the windows, Ellen saw a beautiful courtyard with covered tables and decorative lights. “I think I would rather eat out there.”
“It’s cold outside,” Sue said. “Remember?”
“Those people don’t seem to mind,” Ellen said of those already sitting around tables.
“We have space heaters and a huge fireplace to keep it nice,” Brian said. “You can also eat inside the Courtyard Restaurant, in what used to be the school cafeteria. Let me show you.”
They followed him inside. Colorful paper lanterns and painted glass fixtures hung from the ceiling. Though it was twice the size of the Boiler Room, the single level and wooden booths made it feel more intimate, like a cozy pub. A huge wall of windows looked out onto the Courtyard, where dusk had settled, and colorful lights made it look festive.
“If you eat here,” Brian said, “I recommend the salmon. You can’t beat it.”
“I’m getting hungry,” Sue said.
From the Courtyard Restaurant, Brian showed them two empty meeting rooms, with original chalkboards and windows, and a small library before taking them to the lobby of the movie theater.
“It’s not your typical movie theater,” Brian said. “It was once the school auditorium. I’d show it to you, but there’s a film playing.”
“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt,” Tanya said.
“That’s not the problem,” Brian said. “People go in and out during the entire showing. You just can’t see worth beans.”
“We can check it out in between showings,” Sue said. “But just out of curiosity, how many people can you get in there?”
“About a hundred,” Brian said. “It’s mostly couches, so more can squeeze in, if there’s a lot of kids.”
“Kids?” Ellen asked. “In a bar?”
“Families come to the matinees and eat pizza while they watch.”
“How fun,” Tanya said. “How much are the tickets?”
“Guests of the hotel get free admission,” Brian said.
“What’s showing?” Sue asked.
Brian turned to the chalkboard along one wall of the lobby, where people stood in line at the concession stand.
“Isn’t It Romantic,” Ellen read.
“I’ve been wanting to see that,” Tanya said. “I like that actress.”
“Me, too,” Sue said.
Brian smiled. “Sounds like a date.”
Ellen arched a brow, unintentionally.
“I meant, er, for the three of you,” he quickly added, his cheeks turning pink.
Ellen dropped his arm, pretending to dig for something in her purse. Then she pulled out her readers, slipped them on, and studied a mural on the wall opposite the chalkboard.
“There are better murals in the hall outside,” Brian said. “I’ll show you.”
Sue had dropped Brian’s arm by now, too, and the three friends followed their guide through the theater lobby to another hall. Just outside was a creepy faux puppet show window with moldings trimming the mural and an inscription on a ribbon reading, “Educating tomorrow’s leaders.” Then past an antique water fountain was a much larger mural trimmed with ornate moldings. In the painting, a boy and girl were holding Olympic torches and bearing the burden of a globe on their shoulders between them. A scrolling banner at their feet read, “Passing on the torch of knowledge.”
“That’s original,” Brian said. “As are the items in this display cabinet, salvaged during the renovation.”
“This is so cool,” Ellen said beside him as she looked over an embellished pointer and several documents and photographs from 1915-1970.
As Ellen continued down the hall, she realized they had made a square and were heading back to the main entrance. Windows to the Courtyard Restaurant were now to their left, and big wooden doors with transom windows were on their right. Brian said the doors led to hotel rooms.
“You’ll be staying on the other end of the building,” he said. “Follow me. There’s more to see.”
They followed him up a ramp, past the front entrance, to another bank of windows on their left overlooking a second courtyard. There was a pool below, bricked off from the courtyard beyond it, and there were two couples sitting in it.
“They must be freezing,” Ellen said.
“It’s heated,” Brian said. “I hope you brought your suit.”
Ellen had, hoping to soak her knee in a hot tub. It had been bothering her lately. But she didn’t say this to Brian. Instead, she looked past the pool to the courtyard, where high schoolers stood around in their prom clothes. Ellen could hear the music coming faintly from the gym.
“You won’t be able to hear the music in your room,” Brian assured Ellen, as if he’d read her mind. “You’re staying next to me in the rooms with the best privacy, in the southwest wing. Right this way.”
They passed another interesting mural that had a creepy vibe, like the puppet show mural. This painting depicted the front of the school with a maypole and children holding the ribbons. The faces of the children were strange. Their eyes seemed to follow Ellen as she walked by.
Brian took them around a corner to their right, where there was a door leading out to the front of the school, precisely where the maypole children had been depicted in the mural.
“This is our own private entrance,” Brian said. “You can use your key card to get in and out.”
Ellen’s eyes were drawn to the painting beside the door. It depicted a gorgeous purple iris in water color, its petals shimmering in cascades of pinks and whites. Less obvious was a dragonfly perched on one of the petals. The dragonfly’s translucent wings blended with the texture of the flower. Even less obvious was a second dragonfly in the shadow of the petal. “I know that artist. That’s one of my favorite paintings.”
“Small world,” Sue said.
“It’s one of my favorites, too,” Brian said. “That’s why I keep it here, outside my room, so I pass it coming and going. How do you know the artist?”
“I used to teach art at a university in San Antonio,” Ellen said.
“Ellen’s an artist, too,” Sue said.
“And very talented,” Tanya added.
“Thank you,” Ellen said to Tanya. “Anyway, I managed to get Brenda Hudson, the artist, to give my students a lecture on her water color technique. That’s when I fell in love with this painting, when she told us the story behind it. Do you know it?”
“Do you mean the story about the second dragonfly?” he asked.
Ellen nodded, pleased that he knew it.
“Yes.” He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and averted his gray eyes, as though haunted by a memory.
Ellen decided not to pry and, instead, asked, “So which of these rooms is ours?”
There were two doors, each with two sets of numbers.
Brian took one of the key cards and opened the first of them. “This door leads to your rooms.” He handed the key to Sue. “Yours opens 128.” He handed another to Tanya. “Yours opens 129.”
Ellen peeked through the first doorway into a small vestibule leading to the two other doors. A long chalkboard covered the wall opposite them.
“Each classroom was converted into two rooms,” Brian explained. “You have your own bathroom and closet, and there’s an adjoining door, if you want to use it. This extra hall insulates the rooms from the noise coming from the bars and restaurants.”
“Clever,” Sue said.
Ellen followed Tanya into her room. There was a queen-size bed with a mural on the headboard of a schoolhouse on a hill. A wall of windows looked out onto a beautifully landscaped garden, barely visible in the dusk. Tanya’s luggage was parked in front of a closet.
“That closet was where the students hung their cloaks and lunch bags,” Brian said from the doorway. “You’ll find the original pegs inside.”
“How fun,” Tanya said, opening one of the closet doors. It had a chalkboard on the outside of it, too, that Brian said was also original.
Ellen had to admit that the place was superbly done, full of character and interesting art. She left Tanya’s room to check out Sue’s, which was similar in design with a different mural on the headboard and writing on the wallpaper boarder overhead.
“What do you think?” Ellen asked her.
“It’s quaint,” Sue said. “Have you seen yours yet?”
“Hers is this way,” Brian said from the doorway.
Ellen followed the billionaire out into the hall, past the painting they both liked, to another door. He unlocked it, revealing another small vestibule with a long chalkboard on one side and two more doors on the other.
“Here’s your key,” he said handing over the card.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. He was standing too close.
“What time do you ladies want to head over to the carriage house tomorrow?” he asked as she went to her door.
“How does nine o’clock sound?”
“Nine o’clock sounds fine,” he said. “I’ll tell Kirk to be ready.”
“Goodbye, then,” she said.
“Goodbye, Ellen,” Brian said.
Just as Ellen closed the door behind her, she received a text from Sue asking her to open the first door, so she and Tanya could check out her room.
“Look at that mural,” Tanya said as she went to Ellen’s king-size bed with its beautifully painted dome-shaped headboard. “Oh, I like yours better than mine.”
It was an old, leafless tree with the image of an old wizard forming the trunk. The black branches stood out against a colorful backdrop, the colors of a sunset. Along the inside of the dome was an inscription.
Sue sat on the bed and read: “Here’s to it, and here’s from it, and here’s to it again. If you ever get to it then don’t do it, you may never get to it again.”
“Good words to live by,” Tanya said.
“True,” Ellen said, thinking of Paul. “Life is short.”
Sue turned to Ellen. “Is it just me, or did I sense some chemistry passing between you and Brian?”
Ellen’s mouth fell open.
“Sue!” Tanya chastised. “It’s too soon.”
Ellen covered her heart with her hand. “Tanya’s right. It’s too soon.”
“Well, Brian doesn’t know that,” Sue said. “Now that you’ve lost so much weight…”
“I haven’t lost that much,” Ellen said, though she hadn’t weighed herself lately. She and Paul had lost some together doing a low-carb diet, and then, after he passed, she lost her appetite.
“Yes, you have,” Tanya said. “You look good.”
“I have at least another thirty to go,” Ellen said.
“I wish I could say the same,” Sue said. “So, stop complaining and accept a compliment for once in your life.”
“Okay,” Ellen said, “but only if you stop allowing your imagination to run wild.”
“Fine,” Sue said. “But you have to admit that he’s a good-looking man.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “Are we going to eat dinner now, or what?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Sue stood up. “Let’s go.”
“The Courtyard Restaurant?” Tanya asked, following Ellen from the room.
“Sounds good to me,” Sue said. “Let’s go.”
As they were leaving their table after a satisfying meal, Sue said, “It’s only seven o’clock. It would be a shame to spend the rest of the evening cooped up in our rooms.”
“But they’re interesting rooms,” Tanya pointed out.
Sue led them from the restaurant. “I have an idea! Let’s take a cab to Voodoo Doughnut! When I Googled things that you must do and see in Portland, that came up highly recommended.”
“They have one in Austin,” Tanya said.
Sue furled her brows. “Really? I didn’t know that. Did you, Ellen?”
Ellen shook her head. She’d never heard of the place.
“They supposedly have the biggest selection of doughnuts in the world,” Sue said. “Why don’t we go anyway? How often do we make it up to Austin? I can’t even remember the last time I went. Besides, it would be nice to have something in the room in case we get hungry for a snack before bedtime.”
“I’m tired,” Tanya said. “You two go on without me.”
Sue turned her expectant face up to Ellen. “What do you say, Ellen?”
“Sure. I’ll go with you.”
“Save me a half, will you?” Tanya asked.
“A half?” Sue repeated. “I think I’ll bring you a whole one.”
“No, don’t do that. I don’t need that much. Just a bite. My pants are getting a little tight.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. She hated it when thin people complained about their weight.
“I’ll bring you a whole one,” Sue said again. “And you can throw away what you don’t want.”
“I don’t like to waste food.”
Ellen sighed. “I’ll split one with you, Tanya. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks. Goodnight. See you at eight for breakfast.”
As Ellen and Sue headed for the lobby without Tanya, Sue said, “It almost sounds like all we ever do is eat.”
Ellen laughed. “That sounds about right.”
“I’ll call a cab.”
“Even though Brian said Kirk was on standby?” Ellen asked.
“Oh. I’d forgotten!” Sue said. “Do you think he hangs out in the limo all evening?”
“Let’s just call a cab,” Ellen said. “I don’t want to bother him.”
When they arrived at the cute little pink doughnut shop fifteen minutes later, they were surprised to find a line snaking from the door and down the sidewalk.
“Those must be some really good doughnuts in there,” Ellen said, “for this many people to be waiting to buy some.”
Sue leaned over the front seat and handed cash to the cabbie. “You better not wait for us after all. This may take a while.”
They found the end of the line, behind a white-haired older man in old sweats, a tattered coat, socks, and sandals. The old man smiled at them, revealing two missing front teeth.
“Have you eaten here before?” Sue asked the old man in her friendly way.
“Who’s asking?” the man asked.
“Huh? Sue. My name’s Sue.”
“Why do you care if I’ve eaten here before?”
Ellen caught a whiff of the man’s body odor and wished the wind would change directions.
“I was just wondering if the doughnuts are worth the wait,” Sue explained.
“Oh, yes,” the old man said. “Yes, they are. I eat here every day.”
Sue turned back to Ellen. “See? I told you they were good.”
Ellen wondered if eating there every day was the reason the man was missing teeth.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” the old man said to Sue. “You have to be careful around here.”
“That’s good to know,” Ellen said. “Thanks for the warning.”
“People keep disappearing,” the man said. “I don’t know if it’s the Russians or the Chinese taking them.”
Ellen and Sue exchanged looks. Without saying so aloud, they both knew what the other was thinking: It was just their luck to be stuck behind a crazy man for the next half hour—or however long it would be before they could buy their doughnuts.
“I tried to tell the folks at the Blanchet House, but they don’t believe me,” the man said.
“Did you say Blanshay House?” Sue asked.
“Yes. It’s spelled B-L-A-N-C-H-E-T, but it’s pronounced like the French say it.”
“Oh, I see,” Sue said.
“It’s a homeless shelter,” the man explained. “I saw one man—a young, strapping lad, too—fall right through the ground behind the Blanchet House, right in front of me. He was there one minute and gone the next!”
“Sounds like it could be aliens,” Sue said.
Ellen elbowed Sue and whispered, “Don’t egg him on.”
“Could be, but I don’t think so,” the man said. “I think it’s the Chinese. Or maybe the Russians.”
Sue, who seemed more amused than annoyed, asked, “Why do you think it’s the Chinese or the Russians?”
“They need more slave labor in the sweat shops,” the man said. “Too many of their own people are getting educated and moving to America, so the bosses come here and steal the poor and the homeless. I know of three men who’ve gone missing over the past six months. They were all staying at the Blanchet House.”
“Wouldn’t the police be notified?” Sue asked.
“No one knows they’re gone,” the man said. “They didn’t have no family. The Blanchet case workers can’t always follow their whereabouts. But those men aren’t out here on the streets no more. They ain’t at the Blanchet. Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know,” Sue said.
“Of course, you don’t,” the man said. “None of us do, but I think it was the Chinese. Or maybe the Russians.” Then the man added, “When a billionaire goes missing, the whole town cares. No one cares about the homeless. We’re dispensable.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ellen said, not knowing what else to say. She wondered if the old man was referring to Mike McManius.
Sue reached into her purse and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. She held it out to the old man. “Can I give you this?”
“Thank you,” the old man said. “That’s almost a month’s worth of doughnuts.”
The only cash Ellen had on hand were two twenties, so she handed them over. “Maybe this is enough for a couple of stays at a Motel Six.”
“I won’t waste it on that,” he said. “I like my spot, you see. This here, this will buy me some new socks and a better jacket. Thank you both.”
Ellen was glad when the line moved, and they could now see into the doughnut shop through the big front window. Every kind of doughnut in every kind of color and flavor was on display.
“What a variety,” Sue said. “How will we choose?”
“You could always get one of everything,” Ellen suggested.
“But there’s at least fifty different kinds.”
By the time they had made it through the door, to the line inside, they had figured out their order. Just before it was his turn to be waited on, the old man turned to Sue and Ellen and said, “Be careful in this part of town, this close to the waterfront. Sometimes visitors go missing too. The homeless and the tourists are the ones who fall through the ground and are never seen again.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Sue said.
They watched as the man went to the counter and took out two one-dollar bills and a handful of coins and gave it to the girl behind the counter.
“You want your usual, Sam?” the girl behind the counter asked.
“Yes, please,” the old man said.
Ellen and Sue watched as the girl put a maple and bacon eclair into a sack and handed it over to Sam.
“See you tomorrow,” the girl behind the counter said.
“I sure hope so,” Sam said. Then he glanced back at Sue and Ellen and added, “If the Chinese don’t take me.”
The old man left. Ellen and Sue approached the counter and gave the girl their order.
They hadn’t made it very far in the cab ride back to Kennedy School before they decided they should try one of the doughnuts. They split a Memphis Mafia—a lump of fried dough with banana chunks and cinnamon covered in glaze, drizzled in chocolate and peanut butter, with peanuts and chocolate chips on top. It was so good, that they decided to split another kind.
“I want to taste the apple fritter,” Ellen said.
By the time they reached Kennedy School, they’d split four doughnuts. Ellen felt sick.
They each carried their pink Voodoo Doughnut box through the lobby toward their rooms.
“Goodnight,” Sue said at her door.
“Goodnight.”
Ellen got ready for bed but found herself unable to sleep—probably because her stomach was full, and her blood was hyped up with sugar. Since it was only nine, she slipped on her old bathing suit, robe, and slippers and headed to the soaking pool.
From the hallway, she looked down into the courtyard and was pleased to find the pool empty, though the prom was still going on, and teenagers hung out on the other side of the brick wall separating the pool from the larger courtyard. Ellen used her key to open the secure gate into a locker-room, where she hung up her robe and slipped out of her slippers. As she headed to the door to the pool, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Her old bathing suit hung on her, stretched out from the thirty extra pounds she’d lost. Although she was thinner, she wasn’t happy with the way she looked. Sue had to be crazy to think that someone as handsome as Brian McManius had felt any kind of chemistry with Ellen.
She thought of Paul and wiped a tear from her cheek as she headed to the pool.
It was chilly outside until she stepped into the warm salt water and eased onto a tiled bench along the inside edge of the pool. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let herself relax. She thought of the two couples she had seen in the pool earlier. They hadn’t been young, probably close to her age, and yet they had held each other in their arms like young people. Ellen had been jealous of the gleam in their eyes as they’d flirted with and fawned over one another. She and Paul hadn’t been like that since, well, never.
She forced tears back, reminding herself that they’d had a solid marriage and had raised three wonderful kids together. Not all relationships were the same. They had loved each other and had showed it in their commitment to their family. They cooked for each other, did chores around the house for each other, and took care of one another when the other was sick. They’d been there for each other over the nearly thirty years they’d been married.
But Ellen couldn’t deny the fact that there had been times when she wondered what it would have been like to have married someone who had been crazy about her. Paul had respected, admired, and treasured her, but he had never been head-over-heels, crazy, madly, and desperately in love with her, even though she had felt that way about him, in the beginning.
She’d told herself that the kind of love she was imagining was fiction—the stuff one read about in romance novels. But, every so often, she couldn’t tell the lie from the truth. Were the stories lying to her? Or was she lying to herself?
Ellen was startled when someone said her name. She opened her eyes to see Brian McManius dipping his foot into the water. He wore navy trunks and nothing else. His chest and shoulders were nicely built, as were his legs. She was relieved that he had a bit of a belly on him. It made her feel less self-conscious.
“Told ya it was nice, didn’t I?” he said as he sat on the bench beside her, his bright gray eyes shining.
She nodded. “It’s heavenly. You have quite an operation here, Brian. I’m impressed.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I thought you’d be a tough one to please.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, surprised.
“I don’t know exactly,” he said looking away. “Maybe it’s because you carry around a holier-than-thou attitude.”
Ellen’s jaw dropped as her cheeks enflamed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Now don’t get all worked up into a tizzy,” he said. “I meant no offense.”
“Yes, you most certainly did.”
“Then that makes us even,” he said as he met her glare with his smoldering gray eyes.