During our quiet breakfast in the hotel restaurant the following morning, dozens of questions ran through my mind. I wanted to find a way to ask him why he hadn’t touched me the night before, yet I couldn’t imagine a more awkward question to ask of a man I barely knew. I played with how to word it, but every combination of syllables seemed like a minefield. I had no idea how he would react or if he’d grow defensive. He didn’t seem angry in the least, but he was closed up this morning, preoccupied, barely touching his breakfast, his jaw tight. When I would catch his eye, he’d smile at me, but return his gaze to his untouched food or the window. Anywhere but my face.
“You’re very quiet this morning,” I said finally.
He gave me a weak smile. “I’m thinking about taking you home,” he admitted. “About Mama and Lucy. I’m trying to figure out how to make an awkward situation easiest for all three of you.”
“Ah,” I said, pleased to finally know what was going through his head. “How can I help?” I asked. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Just try to endure them,” he said. He gave me that anemic smile again. “And whatever you do, don’t mention the baby.”
“Of course not.” I could tell he was genuinely anxious and it made me feel sympathetic toward him. Maybe that had been the problem the night before: he couldn’t stop worrying about today. “It will be all right,” I reassured him. Most people liked me. I couldn’t think of anyone who didn’t, for that matter, except perhaps that Jeanetta Gill, and she didn’t know me. I determined to win his mother and sister over.
* * *
If I hadn’t truly realized I was marrying into money, I knew it the moment we turned into the driveway of the house in the beautiful Oakwood neighborhood where Henry had grown up. Two stories tall and painted a pale green with black shutters, it was one of the most beautiful houses I’d ever seen. I was struck by its symmetry, the right side a mirror image of the left, from the windows to the double chimneys to the porches that graced either side of the building. A wide brick walkway extended from the sidewalk to a pillared front porch topped by a small balcony. The house was surrounded by trees, most of them leafless at the moment, but I could imagine the lush backdrop they’d create in the spring.
“This is breathtaking,” I said, leaning forward to get a better look, my hand on the dashboard.
“The house I’m building is a bit more modest,” Henry said. “A brick colonial. I hope you’ll like it. I’ve never been that interested in all the trappings.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely.”
He stopped the car just shy of a detached two-car garage. To our right stood a small cottage painted to match the house.
“What is that little building?” I asked.
“Our maid, Hattie, lives there,” he said, opening his door. He circled the car to open my door for me before collecting our suitcases from the trunk. Together, we walked to the front door of the house. My future was inside that house and I had no idea what it held.
A maid dressed in a gray uniform and white apron opened the door as we climbed the two steps to the small stone porch.
“Mornin’, Mr. Hank.” She stepped back to let us into the house, her eyes on me with frank curiosity. She was slender, almost reedlike. Her black hair was tucked under a ruffly white cap, and she looked to be in her late thirties.
“This is Tess, my new wife,” he said, as he set our suitcases on the gleaming hardwood floor of the wide foyer. “Tess, this is Hattie.”
“Hello, Hattie.” I smiled.
“Miss Tess.” She nodded. “They in the livin’ room waitin’ for you, Mr. Hank. I’ll carry them suitcases up to your room?” She didn’t move her gaze from my face for a single second.
“I’ll see to the suitcases,” Henry said. “You can get us some tea?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Henry guided me by the elbow toward the closed door to our right. “Courage,” he whispered in my ear as he opened the door, and we walked into a beautiful sun-filled room adorned with pink and gold floral wallpaper and thick oriental rugs. Henry’s mother and sister sat in wing chairs flanking a white brick fireplace. His mother rose to her feet and came toward us. She was fiftyish, a bit older than my own mother had been, and she wore a beige wool skirt, white blouse, and handsome blue and green patterned scarf. She had Henry’s blue eyes, and her well-styled chin-length hair was completely white. She was quite beautiful.
“Hello, dear,” she said to her son, kissing his cheek. Then she held her hand out to me. Her smile struck me as practiced and warm, but her hand was ice-cold.
“This is Theresa Kraft,” Henry announced and I nearly corrected him. It would take me a while to get used to my new surname. “She goes by Tess.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Mrs. Kraft,” I said.
“Call me Miss Ruth, dear,” she said. She was holding both my hands now. “Welcome to our home, Tess. Come sit with us. Lucy, aren’t you going to greet your new sister-in-law?”
Lucy hadn’t bothered to get up from the wingback chair. She looked over at us. “Hi,” she said. The hooded look she gave me told me she’d already made up her mind that she wouldn’t like me. She was going to be my challenge.
“Hi.” I gave Lucy my warmest smile as I sat down on the nearby sofa. She was a pretty girl who looked younger than twenty. Her hair, cut in a bob that nearly reached her shoulders, was the same dirty blond as Gina’s. She wore a dark blue skirt, navy cardigan over a pale blue blouse, and pearls. “It’s so good to meet you both,” I added, hoping I was the only person in the room to pick up the shiver in my voice. I noticed the painting hanging above the mantel. Lucy and Henry as children. They sat on a bench in front of a body of blue water. “What a beautiful painting,” I said.
All three of them looked up at the painting as though they’d forgotten it was there.
“Yes,” Ruth said. “Lucy was three there and Hank, ten.”
“It’s lovely,” I said.
Hattie came into the room carrying a tray with a silver tea service and a plate of small chocolate cookies. She was older than I’d thought at first—somewhere in her early forties—but her dark skin was as smooth as satin and she carried the laden tray as though it were made of paper. She set it down on the coffee table in front of me, and everyone was quiet as she poured us each a cup. I longed to simply lean forward and do it myself. I didn’t like being waited on.
“No tea for me, Hattie,” Henry said when she started to pour the fourth cup. He got to his feet. “I’ll let you gals get to know each other while I take the suitcases upstairs.” He and Hattie left the room together, and I was alone with my new in-laws. I took a sip of tea from my cup, then set it on the end table next to a multicolored glass vase. I noticed those glass vases were everywhere in that room.
“This is pretty,” I said, gently touching the lip of the vase. I looked at Ruth. “You must be a collector.”
“Of Tiffany vases, yes I am,” she said, and I saw Lucy roll her eyes. “I received one as a wedding present and I’ve been collecting them ever since.” She set her saucer and cup on the table next to her chair and smiled at me. “Tell us all about yourself, Tess,” she said. “Hank said you grew up in Baltimore?”
“Yes.” I had the feeling I shouldn’t mention Little Italy.
“Brothers and sisters?”
“No,” I said. “A very small family. It was just my mother and me, since my father passed away when I was young. And,” I added, “I recently lost my mother, as well.”
“Oh no.” Ruth looked pained. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Was it sudden?”
“Yes,” I said. “She had a fall and hit her head.”
“Tragic,” Ruth said, her hand to her cheek. “You must be reeling.”
“I am,” I admitted. What would my mother make of this house? These people?
“What sort of work did your father do?”
I knew better than to say he’d been a plumber. “He had a home repair business,” I said.
Her face lit up, ever so slightly. “Ah, so he was a businessman,” she said. “How many employees did he have under him?”
I could see no way around the truth. “It was just him,” I said. “He did everything himself.” I knew she now pictured him in grimy work clothes, crawling around under people’s houses to work on their pipes. Which would be completely accurate.
“I understand you and Hank have known each other quite a while,” she said, changing the topic.
“Yes, we met in Washington a while back,” I said, hoping I didn’t need to be more specific. I wasn’t sure exactly when Henry had told her we met.
“You were in Washington because…?” she prompted.
“I was with a girlfriend,” I said. “We wanted to visit the Smithsonian.”
“And you met Hank and charmed him off his feet.” She gave me a smile I couldn’t read.
I frankly didn’t want to remember meeting Henry or anything else about that visit to Washington. “He was very nice,” I said weakly.
From her chair in front of the fire, Lucy snorted. “Try being his sister,” she said.
“Lucy!” Ruth snapped with a frown. “Please act your age.”
I turned to Lucy, wanting to get the questions off myself. “Henry says you go to college, Lucy,” I said. “What are you studying?”
“This and that.” She shrugged.
“Lucy is an English major at Lenoir-Rhyne, our excellent local college,” Ruth said.
“Wonderful,” I said. “Will you teach after you graduate?” I remembered Henry saying he couldn’t picture Lucy working.
“Hopefully, I’ll get married after I graduate,” she said.
“So, you have a suitor then?” I smiled.
“Not yet. Hard to have a suitor when you haven’t come out.”
“Come out?” I didn’t know what she meant.
“No debutante balls with the war going on,” Ruth said.
Oh, that sort of coming out. The sort a girl from Little Italy knew nothing about.
“They would have to have a war just when it was my turn,” Lucy said sulkily. She was really quite an unpleasant girl.
“Oh, Lucy,” Ruth said with a tired smile. “And how about you, dear?” she turned to me again. “Hank said you were going to school before he stole you away. What were you studying?”
“Nursing,” I said. “I finished my degree and I’m gearing up to take my licensing exam in March.” I’d learned that the RN exam would be held in Winston-Salem, a few hours’ drive from Hickory.
“Oh, for what reason?” she said. “You won’t need to work, and nursing is such messy business.”
I felt insulted and annoyed. “I think I’d be bored if I didn’t work.” I said, then realized I was probably insulting her.
“Well, there are many lovely ways to while away the time here in Hickory,” she said. “Do you play bridge?”
“I never have, but I’d love to learn.” I’d never given a thought to bridge in my life.
“We also have many book clubs. Do you like to read?”
“Oh yes. I’m reading an Agatha Christie novel right now.”
“And you can join Mama’s Ladies of the Homefront organization,” Lucy said with a hint of sarcasm.
“And hopefully you’ll take to it more easily than my daughter,” Ruth said.
“What is ‘Ladies of the Homefront’?” I asked.
“It’s not a group so much as a movement,” Ruth explained, leaning forward with some enthusiasm. “Another woman and I became concerned with what’s happening to the women in our country while their men are away fighting. Wearing slacks. Smoking to excess. You don’t smoke, do you, dear?”
“Occasionally.” I smiled apologetically, thinking of how much I’d like a cigarette at that very moment.
“So unfeminine.” Ruth appeared to shudder. “I worry the men will come home to a country full of manly women. I do hope you’ll come to our meetings. I’ll introduce you around. And then there’s our wonderful church and all the activities there. You’re Baptist, of course?” She looked at me as though the answer were a foregone conclusion.
I shook my head. “Catholic,” I said, and her eyes widened before she had the chance to catch herself. “Well,” she said, apparently shaken by my answer. “You’re Baptist now, dear.”
* * *
I was relieved when Henry returned to the room. He held out a hand to me. “Let me steal you away to show you around the house,” he said.
I excused myself and left the room with him, taking in a relieved breath when we shut the living room door behind us. We walked across the foyer and into a beautiful library, the walls covered from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. Two leather wingback chairs were angled against one wall.
“How lovely!” I exclaimed. “You’d never run out of things to read in this house.”
“I helped my father build these shelves when I was just a boy,” Henry said, smoothing the fingers of his right hand over the edge of one of the shelves near the fireplace. “And my desk, as well.” He pointed toward the massive desk that faced the front window. His voice sounded different than I’d heard it before. He loved this room.
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “And soon you’ll be able to build things with your own child.”
He gave me a smile that told me how much he liked that idea. “I admit, I’m hoping for a boy,” he said, almost shyly.
“I think it is a boy,” I said, then prompted, “but if it’s a girl?”
“I fear I’ll turn a daughter of mine into a tomboy.” He laughed. “She’ll be fit for no man.”
“She’ll be lucky to have her father’s time and attention,” I said, but he had moved on to the shelves nearest the side window. He motioned me over.
“This is my favorite section,” he said. He pulled one of the huge, heavy volumes from a shelf and walked across the room to set it on the desk. I followed him and watched as he opened the book, which was filled with pictures and illustrations of early American furniture. He turned a few of the pages almost reverently and I could see how much he enjoyed creating furniture. I remembered the smells and sounds of his factory and knew he belonged there. I gently touched his arm.
“You love your work,” I said.
He looked up at me. “Yes,” he said. “I’m fortunate to have a job I love.”
He closed the book and slipped it back into its place on the bookshelf while I wandered through the room, touching the spines, reading titles. I spotted a thick scrapbook on a small table in the corner and touched the corner of it with my fingers.
“Mama’s scrapbook,” he said. “Some family photographs. Newspaper articles. That sort of thing.”
I would have liked to look through the scrapbook. Get to know my new family. But it didn’t seem the time, and I returned my attention to the bookshelves. I spotted several Bibles and a whole shelf devoted to the Baptist faith.
“I think your mother is upset that I’m Catholic,” I said.
Henry raised his eyebrows, then began guiding me out of the room. “Not many Catholics around here,” he said, as we walked through a small sitting room. “Just a tiny congregation and they mostly keep to themselves.” He stopped walking when we reached a closed door and turned to face me. “You won’t be able to go to the Catholic church, Tess,” he said. “You’re going to have to fit in here in Hickory. Fit in with my family and our way of life. And of course our child will be Baptist. It’s best you don’t tell anyone that you were a Catholic.”
“Were a Catholic?” I said. “I don’t know anything about being Baptist. Even going to a Baptist service is a sin.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He shook his head with something close to a chuckle. “You’ll have to give up all that hocus-pocus that comes with Catholicism.”
I said nothing. I thought of the priest who’d loudly blasted me for sleeping with Henry. Had I deserved that much vitriol and humiliation? I was angry at that priest. Angry at the church that would make me feel so dirty and guilty. Yet my life had centered around my beloved St. Leo’s. I wasn’t sure I could break away. Already I felt an ache in my heart that I would miss mass tomorrow, not to mention all the tomorrows to come.
Henry pushed open the swinging door and we walked into the largest kitchen I’d ever seen in a home, all done up in white and a deep, rich blue. The whole downstairs of my Baltimore house could fit inside that kitchen. The cabinets were white metal, the countertops a pale blue laminate with dark blue trim. The floor was a blue and white checkerboard. Even the large white porcelain enamel table was trimmed with blue. The whole kitchen was spotless.
Hattie walked into the room from the outside door, a wicker laundry basket in her arms, white sheets spilling over the rim. The smell of sunshine followed her into the room.
I smiled at her. “That looks heavy,” I said. I thought Henry should help her with the basket, but he made no move toward her.
“Ain’t bad,” Hattie said. “Used to it.” She rested the basket momentarily on the kitchen table.
“Let’s continue our tour,” Henry said.
“Excuse us,” I said to Hattie. It was going to take me some time to get used to having a person in the house whose role was simply to clean up after us.
Henry put his hand on my elbow and guided me into a hallway papered with pink cabbage roses on a gray background. He pointed to a closed door. “That’s Mama’s room,” he said. “And by the way,” he added, “you don’t need to excuse yourself from Hattie, or sympathize with her about her work. She knows her place. You have to learn what yours is.”
I felt scolded. “I’ve never had a maid before,” I said.
“You’ll adjust,” he said, leading me back to the foyer. He motioned toward the broad staircase. “Let me show you upstairs,” he said.
I gripped the smooth dark banister, which was almost too thick to get my hand around, and followed him up.
“There are three more bedrooms up here,” he said, when we reached the upstairs hallway. “Mine, and Lucy’s, and one for guests. And then there’s this parlor.” We stepped into a small living room. The flocked wallpaper was a pale blue and the overstuffed sofas and chairs were upholstered in a bold multicolored floral print. I instantly loved the room. I could picture myself sitting in one of those comfortable-looking chairs, studying for my licensing exam as I sipped a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette. I recalled Henry telling me that his mother rarely came upstairs because of a bad knee. I would be free to smoke up here without her knowing what a “manly” girl her son had married. I chuckled to myself.
“What’s so funny?” Henry asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “I love this room, that’s all.”
Back in the hall, we passed the closed door to Lucy’s room and then Henry opened the door opposite hers. “My room,” he said. “Now our room, at least temporarily. Sorry about the mismatched beds. Hideous. Some of my workers brought the extra one from the factory so we’d have two in here. Again, temporary, trust me. It makes my stomach turn to see these beds together.” He motioned toward the two twin beds, one with tall carved posts at the head and foot, the other with a headboard made of wooden slats.
I laughed. “They make your stomach turn?”
“A pineapple bed and a mission-style bed right next to each other?” He gave a visible shudder and I laughed again.
“You’re going to have to teach me about furniture,” I said. To be honest, I barely saw the beds. I was taken by the armoire on the opposite wall. It was enormous, very tall, shaped like an elongated pentagon. The mirrored door was a long graceful oval and small floral carvings ran in a narrow line across the arched top and down each sloping side. “I don’t know a pineapple bed from a … what did you call it? Mission bed? But I do know that this is beautiful,” I said. “Did your father make it?”
He laughed as he came to stand beside me. “You have good taste,” he said, “but I can see you have a lot to learn about furniture. This is Victorian. Made even before my father’s time.” He ran a hand over the smooth wood. “Mahogany exterior.” He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. “Cedar interior covered in turquoise satin. It’s where I keep my good clothes, as you can see.” Suits and shirts hung neatly from the brass bar that ran across the interior of the armoire. He shut the door and carefully turned the key. “You will have the use of that entire closet.” He pointed to a nearby closet door. “I’ll move the rest of my things from there into the spare room.”
Back in the hall, Henry showed me a bathroom that, while small, contained a deep claw-foot tub I would have liked to sink into right at that moment. “You and I will use this bathroom,” he said. “Lucy has one next to her room. Hers is larger. I had no need for all that space, but we’ll have a good-sized bathroom in my—our—new house.”
We walked to the end of the hall and stood at the window that overlooked the backyard. I could see the garage and Hattie’s little cottage.
“We added the garage onto the old woodworking shed several years ago when we got a second car.” He looked at me. “Do you drive?” he asked.
“I have my license,” I said. My mother and I had shared an old Ford until, with the gas and tire rationing, we decided it had become more trouble than it was worth and sold it to Vincent for a small sum. It was quite easy for us to take the bus wherever we needed to go, and a friend had often given me a ride to nursing school.
“Unfortunately we just have the Cadillac running now,” he said. “There’s a ’39 Buick in the garage, but the tires are in terrible shape, and as long as rationing continues, we won’t be able to replace them. Otherwise, I could let you use it. But you’re welcome to take a cab wherever you want to go.”
“Are there buses?” I asked.
He smiled at me. “You’re a frugal one, aren’t you?” he said. “Yes, there are buses, but please feel free to take a cab.”
“All right,” I said, returning my gaze to the little cottage. I noticed the window boxes, empty now for the winter. “I bet that cottage is adorable in the warmer months,” I said.
“Hattie’s lived there the past two years,” he said, “but I still think of it as Adora’s cottage.”
“That was the maid who saved your life?”
He nodded. “She worked for us for more than twenty years.”
“Twenty years!”
“She was like part of the family,” he said. “Her son and daughter too. But she’s about fifty now and crippled with rheumatism, so she had to stop working. Hattie’s her niece.”
“Where did Adora go?”
“She’s still in Hickory, living with her daughter and her grandchildren. I hired her son and daughter on at my factory. Zeke is our maintenance man and Honor works part-time as a housekeeper.”
“Wasn’t Zeke the colored man in your office when I came to the factory?”
“That’s right.”
“How come he’s not in the military?”
“He was.” Henry shrugged. “He volunteered for the Marine Corps and broke his leg last year while he was in training at Camp Lejeune. He’s doing well though. Walks with a limp and I’m sure he has more pain than he lets on.” He put his hands in his pockets. “We still look in on Adora. Make sure she’s got enough to eat, what with the rationing and all.”
I followed his gaze toward the cottage. “How did it happen?” I asked. “How did Adora save your life?”
He shook his head as though he were tired of talking. “Not now.” He turned to face me. “You look a bit wrung out,” he said. “I know this must be a lot to take in. Would you like a nap?”
The thought of lying down, closing my eyes, and escaping from everything new and unfamiliar was seductive. “I would,” I said.
We walked back to his room, where he told me the pineapple bed would be mine. “You can unpack and have a good rest,” he said. “I’m going to drive over to the factory.”
“It’s Saturday,” I said.
“Yes, but I wasn’t there yesterday and I want to make sure everything’s in good shape.”
I must have looked panicky at the thought of being in the house alone with his mother and sister, because he rested a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be back before you even wake up.”