Miss Dimple Disappears (23 page)

Miss Dimple clutched the little book to her chest and said a few words to her Lord.
I’d be most grateful if you could see your way to get me out of this deplorable place, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t leave Alma Owens in charge of my children.

Odessa would be a real bear about now as she bustled about the kitchen, she thought, and Phoebe Chadwick’s house would smell of cornbread dressing with plenty of onions, and of spice cake and sweet potato pie. It was one of the few times Miss Dimple forgot about what was good for her and enjoyed the rich bounty laid before her.

And Henry. Was her brother in danger, too? She sensed he was working on something important at the Bell Bomber Plant in Marietta but had no idea what it was. She only knew he would never give in to the demands of the despicable people who were responsible for locking her away in this dungeon of a basement. It was obvious they were up to something too horrible to contemplate.

What
would
they do with her if they didn’t get what they wanted? And they
wouldn’t.
Mr. Smith was nervous, even more so than usual, and Dimple Kilpatrick knew time was running out. She doubted if he’d have the nerve to kill her on his own, but he was afraid of someone as well. She looked out the window; it was too dark to see, and it was eerily quiet upstairs. He was usually walking about overhead before now. Also, he hadn’t brought her anything to eat since noon and she was getting hungry. At least she’d saved a few soda crackers from lunch.

She woke hours later to the sound of footsteps upstairs. A door closed, and then another. Would he come for her now? Miss Dimple felt for the broken chair leg she’d concealed beneath her mattress and braced herself for what might happen—for the basement door to open and dreaded footsteps to descend the stairs. But the house grew silent once again, and finally she drifted off to sleep.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-ONE

Harris Cooper tossed his dirty apron onto a pile with all the others and tucked the jar of olives he’d been saving in a bag with the pecans his wife had asked him to bring home. “I’m gonna let you close up, Jesse Dean. Lord, it’s been a long day! I’m ready to go home and soak my feet in some Epsom salts.” He pulled down the shade on the front door and looked about to see if he’d missed anything. “Now if anybody comes, just pretend you don’t hear them. If they don’t have it by now, they don’t need it!” He paused. “I left some of those tangerines you like and a small fryer in the refrigerator for you, so don’t stay too late—and you have a good Thanksgiving, you hear?”

Jesse Dean thanked his employer and wished him the same. Harris Cooper was a kind man and had always treated him fairly, which wasn’t the case with everyone. He checked the cash register to be sure all the money had been deposited in the safe in the back of the store and discovered six dollars and thirty-seven cents that had come in during the last half hour. Well, it would just have to stay there until Friday. On the shelf beneath the counter he found what he was looking for, the lists of items he’d delivered that day. It wouldn’t do to leave something off and have a customer fussing at him for ruining her Thanksgiving dinner.

Jesse Dean frowned as he read, and then he frowned some more. He hadn’t paid much attention when he and Mr. Cooper had filled the orders earlier. They had been in too much of a hurry, he reckoned, to get everything delivered before they closed for the day. Because turkeys were expensive and sometimes hard to find, there had been numerous requests for baking hens, and so many customers wanted cranberries they had run out of those by noon, but here was an order for ginger mint tea and he didn’t know but one person who bought that on a regular basis. The store had grown dark in the fading sunlight and Jesse Dean turned on another light so he could see a little better as he examined the list again: molasses—a lot of people cooked with molasses, especially now that sugar was rationed … nothing unusual about that; dried apples—his granny had made a darn good cake with hickory nuts and dried apples … called it “poor man’s fruit cake,” and they were good for pies, too. He scanned the rest of the items, then folded the list and tucked it in his pocket. He probably wouldn’t have thought too much about it if it hadn’t been for the last two items: whole wheat flour and raisins, things Miss Dimple Kilpatrick bought on a regular basis.

Of course she wasn’t the only one who used whole wheat flour, he reminded himself. Mrs. Patterson rarely bought anything else for her weekly bread baking, and Estelle Huffstetler liked it in muffins, but those ingredients along with the ginger mint tea was a little too much of a coincidence.

Jesse Dean weighed a couple of sweet potatoes and took a can of green beans from the shelf to have with his Thanksgiving dinner, made a note of what he’d taken, and left the money in the cash register. Then, putting his purchases in a bag with the chicken and tangerines, he carefully locked the door behind him and started home, but he couldn’t get the unusual grocery list out of his mind. Wasn’t that the same house where he’d seen those bubbles the other day? Maybe he should say something to the police.

But Jesse Dean Greeson had been the butt of too many jokes to make a fool of himself without first finding out for sure.

*   *   *

Charlie hurried home after school that afternoon to put fresh linen on the twin beds in Fain’s room for Annie’s brother Joel and his friend Will, who were due in sometime later in the evening. The two air cadets had just finished a couple of months in preflight school at Maxwell Field in Montgomery, Alabama, and were looking forward to a rare three-day pass. According to Joel, they planned to catch a flight to Souther Field in Americus, Georgia, where they were scheduled to begin the next stage of their training, and would hitchhike the rest of the way. Usually, anyone in uniform didn’t have to wait long for a ride; it was considered unpatriotic to pass anyone in the service on the side of the road without offering to give them a lift.

Her aunt Lou had begged off from her duties at the ordnance plant that day in order to start cooking her Thanksgiving dinner, but Jo and Bessie had gone in as usual and Charlie knew her mother would be tired when she got home. She smoothed the blue corded coverlets on the beds and folded patchwork quilts at the bottom. A fire was laid on the hearth, waiting for someone to light it so the room would be warm when they were ready for bed. Bessie, on learning they would have guests, had brought over a vase of bronze chrysanthemums that Charlie placed on her brother’s desk. The flowers seemed to brighten the room that had seemed bleak since Fain left. The gesture was one of the many thoughtful things their neighbor did and Charlie hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed the next day in her hopes for that thick-headed Ollie Thigpen.

It would be good to have someone in Fain’s room again, to hear laughter and male conversation. Her brother always had friends about and Charlie missed them all. Every one of them was now serving in some capacity. She wished Hugh could be here with them, but she’d probably have to stand in line after Emmaline. He’d written that he and his new friends would join others in the mess hall on Thanksgiving for turkey with all the trimmings but there would be no passes for the occasion.

A friend of her mother’s at the newspaper had generously shared with them a portion of smoked ham. It wasn’t enough to divide among five people, as Annie would be joining them for supper as well, so Charlie planned to combine it in a recipe she’d found in her grandmother’s cookbook that called for noodles, eggs, milk, and cheese. She hadn’t been able to find noodles but wouldn’t macaroni do as well?

Downstairs she glanced at the kitchen clock to find it was half after four. Hurrying about the kitchen, she chopped the ham into pieces, simmered the macaroni, and grated the cheese. She had combined the ingredients and the pan was ready to go into the oven when the doorbell rang.

“Heard anything from the boys yet?” Annie, looking pert and neat with her new haircut, stood in the doorway with an overnight bag in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. Charlie had invited her to share her room that night so she would have more time with Will and her brother. “I sweet-talked Odessa out of the cookies when I told her Joel and Will were training to be pilots,” Annie said, holding out the plate. “Thought you could use some dessert.”

“You thought right.” Charlie accepted the cookies gratefully and ushered her friend through the cold house and into a warm kitchen. “Haven’t heard a word yet. What time do you think they’ll get here?”

Annie shrugged. “Depends on how long it takes them to catch a ride.” She looked about. “What can I do?”

“Have you ever made yeast bread?”

Annie frowned. “No, have you?”

“Nope, but I’m gonna give it a try. I found this recipe in the paper the other day for holiday coffee bread and it doesn’t call for much butter or sugar, but it says it takes an hour to rise.”

Annie looked at the clock. “Then I guess you’d better get started … but are you
sure
you want to fool with yeast?”

“You’re just afraid that when your Will gets a whiff of that bread, he’ll only have eyes for
me
!” Charlie laughed as she gathered the ingredients. She was joking of course.

But that was before she met him.

*   *   *

Annie had spread a blue checked cloth on the kitchen table and was standing on a chair to reach the cups that went with Jo Carr’s everyday daisy-splashed dishes when the doorbell chimed again.

“Can somebody get that? My hands are filthy!” Jo called from the sitting room where she was starting a coal fire in the grate, so Charlie left her bread to rise and quickly rinsed her hands at the sink before going to the door.

Joel immediately tossed his hat on a convenient chair and enfolded Charlie in a huge bear hug. He smelled of tobacco and Old Spice, and although he still demonstrated his college-boy exuberance, his face had a firmer, more chiseled look. His friend stood by while Charlie returned Joel’s embrace with a kiss on the cheek and called to Annie in the kitchen.

Will stepped inside, set his luggage on the floor, and stood with his hat in his hand while Joel introduced them. Their hats, she noticed, were trimmed in blue braid against an olive drab background like their uniforms and neither wore an insignia designating rank as they had none as cadets. She also noticed that Will Sinclair looked at her as if he wanted to laugh. His mouth turned up in a flicker of a smile as he took her hand in greeting, and the smile didn’t seem to want to go away. His eyes—were they gray or green, or in between—were having a hilarious time as well, she thought, and obviously at her expense.

Laughing, Joel reached out and touched her on the nose. “You’ve flour on your face … and in your hair, too.”

“And pretty much everywhere else!” Will didn’t try to hold in his laughter any longer, and when Annie joined them, all three of them were howling over Will’s concern that she hadn’t left enough flour for the bread.

There was nothing outstanding about his face. His straight nose ended in the tiniest bit of a snub, he had a firm jaw line, and he wore his light brown hair in a crew cut like all the other men in the military. But his eyes had a gentleness about them, a mixture of humor and intelligence that made Charlie feel she’d known him forever. And his mouth … she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Will Sinclair. Charlie had to force herself to look away.

What in the world is the matter with you, Charlie Carr, lusting after your best friend’s beau? Will is here to spend time with Annie, not you, so you just back off and leave them alone!

Charlie chastised herself as she followed the group into the sitting room where her mother passed around dainty glasses of last summer’s blackberry wine. Annie sat on one end of the sofa and Will perched on the arm with his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Will was telling some tale about getting a ride on a truck with a farmer transporting a load of chickens and Annie glanced up at him and grasped his hand as she laughed. Annie was small and dainty with dimples and curly hair and when she laughed it made everyone else want to join in. Charlie reminded herself that Annie Gardner was the best friend she’d ever had.

“Guess I’d better go check my bread,” Charlie said, excusing herself. She turned down Annie’s offer to help and hurried into the kitchen. Why did she suddenly want to cry?

And when she took one look at her bread, she had good reason. It hadn’t risen one bit!

“I just wanted to make sure you really did have enough flour left for bread.”

Charlie jumped when Joel spoke behind her, then held up the pan for him to see. “Look for yourself, but I’m afraid it won’t be fit to eat. The darned thing didn’t even rise. Guess I’ll have to throw it away.”

“Don’t you dare! After what we’ve been eating it will be like manna from Heaven.” Joel sniffed the unbaked dough. “Mmm … what’s in here? Orange peel? Cinnamon?”

“Both.”

“Then into the oven it goes! I’m not missing out on that.” Joel frowned and took her face in his hands. “Is something wrong, Charlie? It’s more than the bread, isn’t it?”

Charlie nodded silently. “I guess it’s just—well, I don’t know … I felt kind of teary all of a sudden. I wish Fain could be here, but I try not to let Mama know how much I miss him.”

“Your brother? Annie says you think he might be with Patton in North Africa.”

“But we don’t know for sure and it’s been a long time since we’ve heard anything.” Charlie missed her sister, too, but she wasn’t going to stand here and talk about all her worries when Joel and others like him were risking their lives every day. “We’re hoping to get a letter from him any day,” she added, popping the pan of bread into the oven. “And since you insisted on my baking this bread, I’m going to watch you eat it, Joel Gardner, even if we have to cut it with a hatchet!”

After supper, during which everyone gnawed politely on a hard hunk of bread, Charlie set up a card table in the sitting room and Will popped corn over the fire while Joel taught everyone how to play draw poker. Since nobody had any money to spare, they substituted pecans recently harvested from Aunt Lou’s trees. Charlie wasn’t surprised when her mother ended up wiping everyone out.