The House of Eve (29)
CHAPTER TEN BAD TASTE
Eleanor
Eleanor and a slim-waisted counter girl named Arlene were managing the women’s section of Ware’s department store when the bell above the glass door rang out. In floated Rose Pride, cloaked in a kelly-green cape with big bell sleeves. She was accompanied by an equally well-dressed woman of the same age, and the sight of Mrs. Pride standing just a few feet away made Eleanor’s stomach quake. She hadn’t seen her since their awkward introduction at brunch a few weeks before, but she’d thought about her plenty.
“Would you take them,” she whispered to Arlene, who adjusted her name badge and then greeted them promptly.
“Welcome to Ware’s, my name is Arlene,” she sang.
While the women inspected the new arrivals at the entrance to the store, Eleanor ducked behind a coat display, out of view of the woman but positioned in a way that she could still see them. Rose’s conversation with the other woman drifted her way.
“Honestly, as hard as we work for these children, you would think they’d do as we tell them.” Rose picked up a satin sailor’s hat.
“I often feel like a broken record,” her friend chimed.
“Would you believe that last month, William brought this ragamuffin girl from the Midwest to brunch? When I asked her what her parents did, she said her father worked at a factory and her mother baked cakes.”
A chill went down Eleanor’s throat and she froze. They were talking about her. Eleanor watched from her hiding space as the friend cut her eyes at Rose and then shook her head in disgust. “William has as much in common with her as he does the gardener.”
“No education whatsoever. Probably still eating hog maws and chitterlings, for God’s sake,” Rose cackled.
“Greta did mention something like that to me,” sighed the friend. “I think that was the brunch I missed.”
“Deenie, honestly, in our day, we did what our parents said. Especially when it came to choosing a mate.”
“True. But you can’t tell these young folks nothing. They think the world started when they were born. All traditions are old-fashioned to them.”
“What’s Greta have to say about William? Does she know anything about this Eleanor from the Midwest?”
“Well, she doesn’t think it’ll amount to much. William is merely passing the time.”
Deenie—Greta Hepburn’s mother, Eleanor surmised—moved from the skirt display to the blouses.
“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why William and Greta aren’t dating. We’ve done everything but build them a house.”
Deenie shrugged. “I guess that’s a question for William, dear. Greta is willing and ready. She’s graduating from Howard in the spring, and suitors are calling. None as well suited as William, of course.”
Eleanor bristled.
Rose handed a few blouses to Arlene, who carried them back to the dressing room.
“Well, sweet Greta shouldn’t have to wait. I’ll have to talk some sense into my thickheaded son.”
Rose and Deenie followed Arlene back to the lounge to try on their clothes. Eleanor stayed hidden until the women were safely tucked away.
Once she heard the doors click behind them, Eleanor found her boss in the men’s shoe section. The fragrance of shoe polish and leather filled her nostrils.
“Do you mind if I excuse myself for lunch?” she asked.
“It’s a bit early,” he said and tapped his watch.
“I’m feeling light-headed. I skipped breakfast,” she pleaded.
Once he nodded, she took off for the break room, where she couldn’t stomach more than a few carrot sticks. Rose Pride had called her a ragamuffin and insulted her parents. She had never felt so second class in her life, and for it to come from the lips of a Negro woman her mother’s age made the cut feel even deeper. It wasn’t right. The way they talked, William was a prince, trifling with a poor little handmaid.
Granted, her father did request chitterlings on New Year’s Day, along with his black-eyed peas and collard greens, but that was beside the point. And why were they so worried about Greta? She was drop-dead gorgeous and could have any man at Howard with the snap of her fingers. The longer Eleanor sat there, the more enraged she became.
By the time her break was over, she had pulled herself together and pasted a smile on her face. Out the front window, she could see the two women strolling with several bags down 14th Street. It had just begun to snow lightly, and Eleanor wished she’d remembered to bring her galoshes. She had on her good shoes, and she couldn’t afford to ruin them.
The rest of Eleanor’s shift seemed to drag on forever. When it was finally time to punch the clock, she grabbed her handbag and hurried out into the winter chill. The crisp, brisk air did nothing to soothe the agitation that rested in the base of her spine.
“Eleanor,” William called with his head thrown from the window of his car.
She had not expected him to come pick her up, nor did she wish to be a stain on his name. Since his mother didn’t want them together, then she would make it easy for her. She continued traipsing down the sidewalk without responding to William’s call.
But by the time she had made it to the corner, he’d pulled the car to the side of the road, gotten out and caught up to her. He grabbed her elbow. “Elly, what’s wrong?”