1929 (6 page)

“Why don’t we go look at these dumps, so we
know what we're dealing with,” Caleb said, leading the group out of
the alley.

Jonathan was lost in his own thoughts as they
made their way through town. He desperately wanted to have Caleb’s
good attitude and Aryl’s romantic ideology, but he shut down his
plans for starting a family. He felt a new wave of sadness when he
remembered that Christmas was coming. He ticked off the list of
what he no longer had: no money, no Christmas, no family, no hope,
and no dignity. If it weren’t for Ava, he just might have been one
of the many that week who had wandered to the top of a building,
unable to face their cruel, new reality.

It was a long walk to the tenement, and it
got progressively more depressing as they neared the place they
would soon call home. They passed scores of destitute folks, who
had been down on their luck long before this nightmarish week.
People and garbage lay strewn about the sidewalks and alleys. At
least once on each block, broken furniture and trash lay piled up
on the sidewalk. A skinny, black cat darted out from an alley in
front of them with a large, dead rat in its mouth. Hobos and drunks
were the least of their worries. Steering clear of the gangsters
who controlled this neighborhood, however, was a real concern. A
few streetwalkers approached them enthusiastically. They were still
dressed like the successful men they had been, and it was assumed
they were here for something cheap and easy. A worn-out looking
brunette tried to get Caleb’s attention.

“Wow. Nothing like Paris, eh, Jon?” Caleb
scoffed.

“No, it’s not,” he replied in disgust as he
shook off a skinny blonde, who had grabbed his arm and cooed at
him. A half-block away, another set of women saw them and
approached eagerly.

“Lookin’ for a date?” a chubby redhead
offered with her skirt already hiked up. Aryl looked straight ahead
and kept walking. Down each alley, they saw lines of dingy laundry
drying on cables strung between buildings. Neglected dumpsters
overflowed with garbage. Through an open window they heard a couple
screaming at each other while a baby wailed in the background.
Jonathan felt as if he had just walked into the bowels of hell.

“Here it is,” Caleb said, stopping in front
of a brick building. They looked hesitant and scared as they walked
up three flights of stairs to Jonathan’s apartment. He took a deep
breath and opened the unlocked door.

The three of them stood speechless. A main
room measured about fifteen by twenty feet. A tattered couch set
against the wall. Beside it, an end table that looked like it was
about to fall over. An upside-down dining table set in a corner.
There was a fireplace on the left wall and a door beside it.
Jonathan walked in slowly and saw that the door led to the bedroom.
His clothes closet was bigger than this room. There was a double
bed with a lumpy mattress and rusted wrought iron headboard.
Directly across from the front door was an archway that led to a
small kitchen which held a gas stove, a sink, and counter with two
cabinets. To the right of the stove was a garbage chute with a
broken door which allowed the stench from the overfilled dumpster
below to waft into the apartment. The dirty plaster walls were
riddled with holes, and the stained wood floors needed repair.
There was one window in the main room and a small one in the
kitchen. Both were cracked. Jonathan turned, speechless, to his
equally horrified friends.

“Dear God, how can I bring Claire here?” Aryl
asked aloud.

So much for the romanticism of poverty,
Jonathan thought sarcastically. They walked down the dank hallway
and opened the door to Caleb’s rental. It was in much the same
shape. He walked through quickly. Aryl took more time walking
around his. As creative and talented as Claire was, he just
couldn’t see her being able to turn this pit into a home.

Caleb turned abruptly and stomped down the
stairs. He sat down on the stoop with his head in his hands.
Jonathan and Aryl walked around him, stood on the sidewalk with
nothing to say and simply waited.

“We need some plaster to fix those holes,”
Caleb started, “and at least some tape for the windows with winter
coming. I’ll bring some tools and nails for other repairs,
furniture, doors and such. Rugs will cover the damaged floors. And
if you think we can get away with it, we can smuggle in some things
from the house tonight after dark.”

“Sounds good to me,” Aryl said.

“Okay. Well, I don’t know about you guys, but
I’m tired, hungry and I really need to see my Ahna. Whatdya say we
head home. Well, home for today,” Caleb said, as he glanced over
his shoulder. “I guess, starting tomorrow, this is our home.” The
others nodded and they began the long walk home.

∞∞∞

“Welcome home, sir,” Grayson greeted with a
nasal English accent. He helped Victor out of his coat and waited
for his hat and scarf. “Mrs. Drayton is waiting in the dining room
for you, sir.”

“Thank you.” Victor walked through the
marble-floored foyer and the arched entryway into the parlor. The
lighting was low and a roaring fire warmed the room. He entered the
lavishly decorated dining room that bestowed expensive art and dark
blue, velvet drapes that perfectly matched the Victorian style
wallpaper. A darkly stained, oak chair rail separated the design
from ornately engraved wood paneling that encircled the room. The
long, formal dining table seated twelve and was always set to
perfection with the finest china, crystal, and linens. A vast
floral arrangement was set in the center.

Victor loosened his tie as he walked toward
his wife, who sat at one end of the long table. He quickly kissed
the top of her head and asked an obligatory, “How was your
day?”

“Fine.” She didn’t look up as she poured
another glass of wine. Victor usually sat at the other end of the
table, which served to limit conversation and eye contact to a
tolerable level for them both. Tonight he sat directly to her left.
She glanced up at him as he pulled the chair out.

“You don’t mind?” he asked, smiling.

“By all means,” she replied, waving her hand
at the chair. He held up his wine glass and Grayson filled it
promptly. Victor looked at Ruth over the glass. He loved her, he
supposed, as much as he was capable of loving someone anyway.

“So, what did you do today?” he asked.

“Well, Mildred and I went out shopping
earlier today, and then I spent the afternoon arranging flowers.”
She gestured toward the arrangement sprawling out of a gilded
vase.

“Very nice,” he said, casually looking over
toward them.

“I had to fire the maid today,” she
continued. “She left the guest bedrooms in horrible states, and
we’re having our party tomorrow night. Surely, people will stay
over. I guess tomorrow I’ll spend my day looking for another one,”
she said with irritation.

“You’re too hard on the staff, Ruth.” She
answered him with a hard glare, and he held a hand up and made a
face as if to say, Fine, do whatever you want with the staff.

Grayson set their dinner before them,
refilled their water and wine glasses, bowed and turned to leave,
closing the mahogany doors behind him.

“Have you found a dress for tomorrow
night?”

“Yes, but it’s dreadful. It's a dreary brown
and tan, and the shoulders are set all wrong. I’ll look hideous,”
she seethed.

“Well, it is a Halloween party,” he said. She
glared at him with blue eyes, narrow and hateful, and she continued
her complaining.

“All the good dresses were taken, and there
isn’t time to have one made. It’ll do, I suppose.”

“After enough to drink, it’ll look good to
you. And everyone else for that matter,” he added under his breath.
He could no more help being a cold-hearted bastard than she could
help being bitter and jaded.

“What about your day?” she asked, with a sigh
of returned obligation.

“Oh, pretty fair. The units are nearly full.
By the end of the week, the few remaining will be occupied.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you had the sense to
stay out of stocks. I read today about the outlandish situation
that’s going on with all that. Mildred’s husband was hit hard but
not wiped out, thankfully.”

“Indeed,” he said, wiping his mouth with his
napkin. “Of course, the value of the real estate is horrendous on
paper, but I’ve more than made up for that in gold investments and
rental income.” She held a glassy-eyed smile at mention of gold and
was well on her way to drunk. He decided it was time.

“Speaking of a bad situation–” He paused to
take a bite of steak. “You’ll never guess who wandered into my
office today, completely wiped out, stripped of his dignity and
hours from homelessness.” He chuckled.

“Hmm?” she asked, barely interested.

He watched her closely as he spoke the name.
“Jonathan Garrett.”

Her fork stopped mid-air, eyes fixed straight
ahead.

“You remember him, of course.”

She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her
napkin daintily before taking three gulps of wine. “What do you
mean wiped out?” she asked quietly.

“I mean broke. His little empire is gone.
Lost everything and took his friends down with him, too.” He gave
her a minute to absorb that while he chewed another bite. Slowly,
he reached out to pat her hand. “I know he was special to you at
one time, but aren’t you glad now you didn’t end up with him, my
love?” She forced a smile and nodded but didn’t meet his eyes.
Special was an understatement. Ruth had been completely in love
with him. Jonathan had cared for her, but he had never loved her,
and he never led her to believe he did. Regardless, she believed
fully that they would end up married. Mutual hatred of Jonathan had
brought she and Victor together. Their relationship was based on
little else.

Victor asked cheerily, “What’s for
dessert?”

“I’m really not hungry anymore,” she
whispered. She took the wine from the chiller and left the room,
swaying slightly. Victor finished his dinner alone, dismissed
Grayson and retired to the parlor. He settled in his chair and
opened the newspaper with a smug grin. He would give Ruth a while
to drink herself to sleep before he went up to bed. He had no
interest in witnessing her grief over Jonathan Garrett.

∞∞∞

“Ahna!” Caleb yelled as he burst into their
home. “Arianna!”

“Up here!”

He breathed a sigh of relief and took the
stairs two at a time. He found her on the bedroom floor, legs
tucked under her, sorting small piles of jewelry.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked as he
sat down beside her.

“I’m checking the jewelry against the
insurance paperwork. We can take or sell anything there’s no record
of,” she explained, eyes focused on the neatly arranged piles.

“Good thinking, Ahna.”

“How did it go today?” she asked
distantly.

“About that. I need to talk to you. There are
some things you need to know concerning where we’re going–”

“I found some drapes and linens in the attic
and packed them,” she interrupted. “But I need help getting them
downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll get to that. But I really need to
talk to you about where we’re going. It’s going to be somewhat of a
shock.” He touched her arm to get her attention. She stopped
sorting and looked at him numbly with swollen eyes.

“I’m sure it’s bad,” she said quietly. He
nodded with eyes full of dread. She took a deep breath and squared
her shoulders. “Okay. Tell me.”

∞∞∞

Jonathan bent down to help Ava pack a few
sentimental pieces. He was thankful for something mundane to do for
a moment, having no idea of how to begin to tell her where they
were going and whom they were forced to rent from. Jonathan looked
up suddenly. “What’s that smell?”

She smiled. “It’s Sven. He’s cooking dinner
for us. Charles and Maura are here, too. They came a couple hours
ago to see if they could help with anything.”

Jonathan stiffened. “I can’t pay them,” he
told her in a low voice laced with shame.

“They know. They want to help anyway. Let
them, Jonathan. They feel awful about what’s happened to all of
us.” His brow creased in frustration. Just as he was about to
protest again, Charles appeared in the entryway of the parlor.

“Hello, sir.”

Jonathan turned and tried to smile. “Hello,
Charles.”

“I hope you don’t mind us coming unannounced
today, sir, but we thought it only fair that we assist you right up
until you have to leave.”

“Only fair?” He swallowed hard. “I can’t pay
you, Charles.”

“We’re not here for pay, sir. We’re here as
friends.” His old eyes were kind. “You have been very good to us.
You helped each of us in different ways over the years.”

Jonathan stared at him, expressionless.

“Last Christmas, for instance, do you
remember what you did for us, sir?” Jonathan searched his memories
of the last Christmas but nothing involving his staff stood out in
his mind.

“No, I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me,
Charles,” he said, a little embarrassed.

“You gave each of us a Christmas bonus that
was more than generous. That bonus made all the difference in our
families having a Merry Christmas.”

Maura was beside him and spoke her piece.
“An’ you’ll remember the time me wee Scottie was terribly sick. You
paid for his doctoring and didn’t dock my pay none whilst I stayed
home to care for him.”

Jonathan smiled. He remembered now, but these
things seemed nothing more than the decent thing to do at the time,
and he had never given the decisions any second thoughts. Ava
squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Jonathan looked over to see
Sven looming in the doorway.

“You’ve not eaten a decent meal since
yesterday,” he accused with his hard Russian accent. Jonathan
smiled, realizing he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day
before.