Shattered Glass Page 13

  I, of course, had no idea what a house model was, but it reminded me that I had not adhered to Grady’s constant admonishments to keep my guard up with strangers.

  In the course of our time together, Miss Zelda pretty much learned everything there was to know about me. I also knew that she had a daughter who, now that she was married and lived in a place called Oakville, thought that she was too good for a mother who “schlepped shmatas.” Needless to say, she was touched when I told her all about how I thought I was Jewish for a minute, had bought a fake Star of David, read Exodus and still wanted to go to a Jewish church one day.

  “Synagogue,” she corrected. “But you’re more Jewish than my Sophie. She’s a knife in the heart, that one.” Miss Zelda put my stockings, a slip, the perfumes and my dress into a very fancy garment bag, shaking her head the whole time. She also gave me 12 percent off everything because she said that it was all going on sale in two weeks. And she hugged me too. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy!”

  Strangers were wonderful people! Grady was dead wrong on this one. I floated out of Simpson’s, clutching my purchases and bolstered by hugs.

  All the way to the subway, I daydreamed in minute detail about how irresistible I’d look in my new outfit, all freshly perfumed, lipstick on and hair just so. I imagined a thousand different scenarios where my “lucky guy” boldly took me in his arms and kissed me at great length and with great passion. He would put his head here and I’d tilt my head there…or no, farther back, maybe, or to the side a little? Where would our arms go? Should my right hand reach for his neck or rest on his shoulder? What do you do with your left hand? Should I lick my lips first, or was that gross? Were we standing, sitting, leaning?

  There sure were a lot of serious mechanics to consider in one’s first kiss.

  “You Don’t Own Me”

  (LESLEY GORE)

  I DIDN’T HAVE enough time to get to 75 Hazelton before my shift, so I lugged all my goodies to the club. Instead of setting up our tables, Rachel oohed and aahed over my purchases. She had never seen anything as pretty as the L’Air du Temps bottle either, so I gave her one. When I dug out the dress and held it against me, she started to cry.

  “You’ll look real nice, Toni,” Ethan said. Where had he come from?

  “She’s going to a real swell party on Sunday night.” Rachel sniffled.

  “Oh,” he said. And with that oh we were back to the Cold War. “Big Bob wants to see you in his office, Toni.”

  Uh-oh. I didn’t have a single pleasant memory of being asked into anyone’s office. I was never one of the girls that Mrs. Hazelton or Miss Webster had asked in for a pleasant heart-to-heart over a cup of tea. And, let’s face it, I was still recovering from my last visit to Mrs. Hazelton’s office. I combed my transgression memory box and came up empty. What had I done? My panic was in full bloom by the time I got to the office.

  Big Bob’s door was open, and he was on the phone. As soon as he saw me, he waved me in. “Here she is now…yeah, you too. Behave yourself and get out of there, hear.” He handed me the telephone and mouthed, “It’s Scarlet Sue. You only got a minute.”

  Oh my god, the letter. I hadn’t read her letter.

  “Miss O’Reilly? Hello? It’s Toni here.”

  “Hiya, toots. Look, I’ve been tying myself in knots ever since I sent the letter. You got it, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Well, I had.

  “So, I been thinking about it, and I apologize. It probably came out too stone-hard. I ain’t good with words on paper.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “The facts about the fire. I only got it all second and thirdhand, you know? I looked for youse everywhere, really I did, kid, but the cops nailed me practically the minute I got over the border, see? It was a short one that time, but by the time I got released, the trail was colder than a brass toilet seat.”

  Fire? “The fire on the Noronic?”

  “What? No, the one in your the basement flat!”

  “Excuse me?” Dear God in heaven, how many fires were there?

  Big Bob hurriedly brought around a chair and then excused himself.

  It was a good thing I was sitting.

  “The basement fire where you and Hally had been living.”

  I started to get up and then wisely sat back down.

  There was a long exhalation at the other end of the phone.

  “You didn’t read the letter, did ya?”

  I sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am. No, I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. See, I’m not very…I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, take off your hair shirt, sweetie. You’ve got a lot to chew on. It’s right smart to dole things out in little pieces, so you don’t end up choking on it going down.”

  I nodded at the phone.

  “Toni, you there? Smiling Sam here is breathing down my neck even though I ain’t ever blown my nickel on anyone before.”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was getting well and truly tired of not knowing what people were talking about.

  “Toni!”

  “I’m here, Miss O’Reilly, sorry.”

  “Quit apologizing, and that’s a life tip, toots. I’m the one who feels like a dog. Hally was my best friend. Do you want to know now, or do you want to read the letter?”

  Did I? Was my mother alive? Did I?

  “Yes, I want to know. I mean, please tell me.”

  “Go to hell, Sam, the kid wants to know.”

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  “Yeah, he’s gone back to pacing and growling. So, here’s the goods as far as I got ’em. Okay, so I was away when it happened, in Buffalo on, uh, business.”

  “Do you mean when the fire happened?”

  “Yeah. You girls had moved while I was gone. Finding rent was always a problem.”

  “And me? Was I a problem?”

  “Sure. Oh, not like you was a brat or anything. It’s just that landlords weren’t keen on taking on single ladies with a little kid.” Then I heard her grumble, “I’d kill for a smoke, Sam. I’ll make it up to you later.” There was mumbling, then the sound of a cigarette being lit and inhaled. “So, the way I heard it, when I couldn’t find youse anywhere, was that there was a fire in one of the basement flats over there in the village, maybe yours, maybe not. And then, honey, the trail went dead. There was a ton of fires in those days, and I mean a ton, see?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “The places were run-down, and sometimes they blew because of bad wiring and sometimes the owners helped it along because of the insurance money. I’m not the only con in the city, kid, but I wouldn’t touch that kind of scam. Too dirty.”

  Huh? There was a piece of me that still believed I had a monster for a mother. There might have been things that drove her to it, I knew that now, but I had a mother who had harmed her own child. “Did she set the fire? My mother, I mean.”

  “Halina? What? No! I mean, what do I know, but no! Why would she do something like that? She got down a bit at times, and those pills didn’t help, but she wasn’t nuts and she wouldn’t do it for some money scheme. I ought to know. I tried to bring her in on the side with my little cons, and she wouldn’t go near ’em.”

  There was a muffled “You don’t own me, Sam, so give me a another minute, will ya?” and then she said, “She’d never risk anything happening to you, kid. You were the only reason she was living.”

  But that memory, that nightmare. I knew I had that right. I knew it was my mother. I could recall the smell of my own fear. I wasn’t wrong about that. Scarlet Sue had been away, after all. Things change; people change.

  “When was this—the fire?”

  “Well, I left right before Christmas ’49, and I got back sometime in the spring.”

  I stood up again and stayed standing. “I have a hospital-release thingy that says I got out in April. So it’s got to be a fire that happened between the beginning of January and the end of April.”

  “Yeah, it
’s not much. Like I said, there were a lot of fires back then. It may not even have made the papers. Sorry, it’s all I got.”

  “No, no, that’s good, Miss O’Reilly.”

  “Auntie Sue.”

  “Yes, thank you, Auntie Sue. I have a genius librarian friend, and I’m sure he’ll help.”

  “Good. And…kid?”

  “Yes, uh, Auntie Sue?”

  “I don’t want to see you down here anymore. This is no place for a girl like you.”

  “But I’d…”

  “Even Sam is nodding his head. You got a question, write me. I don’t want to see your face here. In fact, I’ll refuse to see you, got it?”

  “But you’re all I’ve got, and now that I’ve found—”

  “I mean it! You don’t know what you don’t know, and you’re not gonna learn it visiting me. Not if I can help it. You got it or not?”

  Big Bob had returned. He was leaning against the doorway and pretending to survey the back of the stage.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I promise I won’t try to visit you again.”

  “Okay then.” Her voice was softer, more resigned now. “I’m due to get out before the end of the year, and if I behave myself I may actually do it this time. And kid, I will do it this time because of you. Stay at the Lady Grady’s and keep out of trouble.” Then there was muttering and cursing. “Right. Smiling Sam has put his foot down. Gotta go.”

  “Thank you so much for making the effort and tracking me down. It means so much, I can’t tell you how much…”

  But the line was dead.

  Big Bob walked in and put the telephone back on its receiver. “She’s a pistol, that one. I’d pay attention to whatever she has to say.”

  “Another fire!” I stood there. “There was another fire with my mom and me in a basement flat. I’m supposed to find out about another fire! I mean, come on!” I wanted to kick something, throw something. “No way.” I shook my head. “I’m done. No more.”

  .

  “Suspicion”

  (TERRY STAFFORD)

  HANDS. MY HANDS? No. But someone’s hands grab me hard, grip tight, hurt me. Lift me. I struggle. I scream. The hands shove me into piercing glass shards, over and over. “Stay still!” I can’t breathe. Little and big pieces stick into me. Others cut me again and again and…smoke chokes me, smothers me. “No, Mommy, no!”

  I was screaming in time with the pounding on the door.

  I’d done it again, woken the poor man up.

  “Coming! I’m okay, professor. I’ll just get a robe.” My nightie was plastered against me with sweat.

  “You needn’t open the door, my dear, so long as you’re okay.”

  I still opened it a crack. “I’m okay, thank you. I actually woke myself up. I feel awful. You know how sorry I—”

  “Don’t apologize, please.” He started to walk away and then turned back. “Toni, I fear it’s getting worse. You simply must endeavor to find out what happened to you.”

  I nodded in the dark.

  “Toni?”

  “Yes, sir. I have been, really, but I know there’s more.” I shivered despite the heat, and I told him about my conversation with Scarlet Sue.

  “Good. Tomorrow then, first thing.”

  “Yes. Wait. What?”

  “You and I are going back to the library in the morning. We’ll help narrow down the search with your talented Mr. Kenyatta.”

  “No…I…the thing is, I’m not sure that…”

  “Meet me downstairs at 10:00 AM. Good night.”

  “Good night.” But it wasn’t. I couldn’t get back to sleep. Yes, I was afraid of the dreams, but I was way more afraid of the truth.

  The next morning, the professor, Grady and I sat sipping our coffee as if we were attending a funeral visitation. Grady was silent because she wasn’t accustomed to being alive and alert before noon. The professor was reviewing class notes, and I was mute with exhaustion.

  I made a last-ditch stab at convincing them that this was not necessary. “I actually don’t…I mean, I even told Big Bob that I’m not ready to…”

  “Forget it, Toni.” Grady had roused herself. “Like it or not, you’ve got us involved in this. And kid…” She pulled her robe tighter around her. “You’re just a kid. We may not be your regular-type adults, but we’re your adults, and we think you’ve got to get to the bottom of this. I can’t have you scaring off the tenants.” She drained her coffee. “Toni?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, you two, get out of here. I’m going back to bed.”

  The funny thing was that even though they knew each other, at least to say hello, both Mr. Kenyatta and the professor acted all super formal when I reintroduced them. “Mr. Kenyatta, I believe you know the professor?”

  Mr. Kenyatta extended his hand. “Edward, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Indeed, the pleasure is all mine, Baraka. Toni tells me that congratulations are in order, that Canada has wisely welcomed you as a citizen.”

  Baraka?

  “That’s very kind indeed…”

  I slipped away to where the library held its stash of teen magazines. With any luck they’d go on like that for hours and never get to the research matter at hand. I was deep into the big fall issue of Seventeen magazine—I had to get myself some penny loafers—when the professor reappeared.

  “All done.”

  “How? I mean, I haven’t done anything, looked up anything.”

  “I gave Baraka the parameters and the few details we have. I also explained that we had a rather reluctant researcher in you. He’ll wade through the clippings about fires in the area for all of 1950 and 1951.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked at his watch. “As it turns out, I uh, have an early luncheon meeting with someone.” He looked pleased and uncomfortable as he glanced over to the front desk.

  “I see.” I smiled at him. “I really like Mr. Kenyatta.”

  The professor looked away. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the world out there, Toni.”

  “Yes, sir. That singular fact is brought home to me a thousand times a day. I had no idea how much I didn’t know at the orphanage. I used to think I was so smart.” We started for the doors. “And then I got here and found out that I don’t even know how much I don’t know.”

  At least he smiled. He was a nice man, but not big on smiling.

  “The thing is, and maybe I got it from Joe or something, I know, when I really, really listen to my gut, I know how to recognize a really good person. And, well, you’re one and so is Mr. Kenyatta.”

  “And your gut tells you this, does it?” He looked amused. “Perhaps you know more than we give you credit for.”

  With that he went on his way. I’d lied, of course. Oh, not about him and Mr. Kenyatta, but about listening to my gut. Truth was, I’d been doing my level best not to listen to it. Truth was, I’d been passing off my gut’s early-warning system as gas.

  I decided to hustle over to the Purple Onion and start my shift early. The espresso station could use a thorough cleaning. Cleaning would get my mind off things. By the time Rachel and Ethan came in, you could have performed surgery on any surface in the place.

  Neither of them noticed.

  Rachel was rattling on about a new fella and how this one might be the one, for absolute sure. “And he’s not a musician, Toni! He’s got a real professional job.”

  “That’s great, Rachel. What does he do?”

  “He’s a vacuum-cleaner salesman! Well, that and water-filtration systems and a bit of real estate on the side. A real professional type.”

  “That’s terrific. I mean it. Well, I’m going to tidy up the supply closet now. There’s still time before we open.”

  The supply closet was always cool and dry, and I was exhausted from worry and lack of sleep. I wanted to lie down on the floor. Instead, I lost track of time sorting out napkins, sugars, salt and cutlery.

  “H
ey, we’ve opened.”

  Ethan leaned against the doorjamb. He wasn’t looking at me, but I was looking at him. He’d filled out a bit over the past couple of months. He was going to be very handsome one day.

  Like today.

  “Wait, before you go…” He straightened up and made actual eye contact. “I just wanted to say…to apologize or call a truce or…”

  “Are we at war, Ethan?”

  He shrugged. “I’d like to try to be friends.” He shrugged again.

  “Try?”

  “Yeah, try. I’ll try, okay?”

  He looked rather stricken for someone who wanted to be friends.

  “I’d like that, Ethan. Truce it is.”

  “Good, good.” He smiled. Ethan had dimples that appeared when he smiled a certain way. I wanted to touch them. Then the smile evaporated, and he dug his hands into his pockets. “The old…uh, your boyfriend is out there looking for you.” He walked away.

  Wait. But…

  Cassidy, no doubt about it, was a real handsome man, a real man period. He didn’t have dimples, but when he smiled like he did as soon as he saw me, he sucked up all the light in the place and then beamed it back out.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” He was playing with a pair of sunglasses. “Look, I can’t stay, I just wanted to firm up our plans for Sunday night.”

  “Sure!” I wanted to tell him all about my brand-new dress and the wonderful ladies at Simpson’s and how excited we all were about the big party. But he seemed impatient to get on his way.

  “I’ll pick you up in front of your place at nine sharp. Okay?”

  Oh. Well, what had I expected? That he would ring the bell and introduce himself to Grady?

  I guess I sort of had.

  “Sure! For sure. I’m very punctual. I have a new dress.”

  “Great, gotta run, see you Sunday, babe.”

  I watched him thread his way through incoming clientele. He was handsome from the back too. Ow. My stomach hurt. I was just tired. Yeah, no sleep and too much happening. That must be why my stomach was cramping.

  “Where Did Our Love Go”