The House of Eve (18)
“Yes. Anything. I’ll do what needs to be done.” She gripped the counter.
“Are you familiar with Ware’s?”
Ware’s was the city’s first Negro-owned and -operated department store. Nadine shopped there. Eleanor had accompanied her once when she was looking for a dress to wear to Homecoming. It was by far the classiest shopping experience in D.C., and Eleanor had been wowed by the racks of high-end fashion and the finest selection of accessories she had ever laid eyes on.
“Yes, of course.”
The man handed her a business card. “Ask for Gloria, and tell her I sent you. She’s looking to hire a new counter girl. Once you have secured the job, come back so that we can put you on a payment plan to pay off the semester. It will need to be paid in full before you register for winter classes, no exception.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Go on and make Howard proud.”
Eleanor had no idea how she was going to work a second job, all while archiving the collection with Mrs. Porter and keeping her grades up, but she would have to find a way. As a child, Eleanor had been lulled to sleep by the sound of wooden spoons whipping against metal bowls, and the smell of butter, sugar and vanilla bubbling through her house as her mother baked through the night. Then with little sleep, she’d drive up and down Route 10 selling her savory cakes and flaky pies to save for Eleanor’s college education. The least Eleanor could do was handle this.
The stop put her ten minutes late for her shift, and she apologized to the clerk she was relieving. Slipping her bag under the circulation desk, she decided to start with shelving books. Saturdays were always slow, and since it was Mrs. Porter’s day off, she’d have time to write her essay arguing how the novel Our Nig was a response to Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Preparing her application for Alpha Beta Chi had Eleanor behind, but if she could get a few thoughts down while she was at work, she’d make a dent in catching up.
Eleanor arranged the books on the cart by subject and then section. The feel of the textbooks in her hand, and the syrupy, musky smell that came from the pages as she rolled the cart across the carpet, grounded her. One of the things she liked about working in the library was that everything had a proper place. Eleanor had always felt most at ease when things were categorized, neat and organized.
A telephone ringing at the circulation desk interrupted her trance, and she hurried over to answer it. She was in the middle of helping the patron over the phone when she glanced up to see William Pride, and that glorious back, sitting at his usual table in his regular chair.
He must have sensed her presence, because he turned his head slightly, and when he saw her, he dropped his pencil, pushed back his seat and stood. Eleanor cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, watching as he moved in a loose turtleneck, perfectly starched pants and polished wing-tip shoes.
She put up a finger to signal that she’d be right with him, and then jotted down the patron’s book request.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll check the shelves and give you a call right back. So long.” She hung up and turned her face to William. “Did you need some help?”
“Are you all right?” He leaned his elbows on the counter.
“What do you mean?”
“You left in such a rush last night. I never thanked you for the dance.”
“I had to. My frock was soaked from Greta’s drink,” Eleanor said, immediately regretting mentioning her name. She hoped she didn’t sound bitter or jealous.
His jet-black eyes softened. “I looked for you.”
Eleanor remembered. “I didn’t give you back your handkerchief. I’m planning to wash it by hand.”
He waved away her words. “Give it to me on Friday. I have an extra ticket to the Lincoln Theatre. Would you like to be my guest?”
“Me?” Her eyes fluttered.
“Don’t tell me you have to study either.” He tilted his smooth chin, and Eleanor pictured her lips pressed against the tip of it.
“I believe I’m free,” she said, smiling.
William pushed a piece of paper toward her, instructing her to write down her dorm information. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
* * *
A few days later, Nadine unrolled a curler from the front of her hair. She sat on the edge of her bed in a satin slip watching Eleanor with a look of shock. “William Pride asked you out?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“When did this happen?”
“Saturday. And I was able to get a pass to leave all by myself.” Eleanor stood looking at the dresses on her side of the closet.
“I went to Dunbar High with his younger brother, Theodore—Teddy. He was in my biology class and so easy on the eyes,” Nadine chuckled. “I’m surprised you said yes—you never say yes to anything other than an extra shift at the library.”
“Ha ha ha. It’s just one little date.”
“The Lincoln Theatre is a big date, Ohio. Those tickets aren’t easy to come by.” Nadine stamped out her cigarette and walked to where Eleanor stood at the closet. “What are you wearing? You know William Pride is studying to be a doctor.”
Eleanor pulled out her pine-green dress with the Peter Pan collar. It was the nicest one she owned, sewn by the hands of her mother’s best friend. She hadn’t worn it much, and instead had saved it for a special occasion. The last time she put it on was for the ABCs interest meeting, and remembering their rejection put a frown on her lips. Nadine interrupted her thoughts by taking the dress from her and hanging it back in the closet.