Hideaway Home

A quick swallow, a deep breath, and Bertie regained control of her emotions. There were things to do. “All I need is a train ticket to Missouri.”

Edith nodded. “We’ll make that two tickets. I’m not letting you go by yourself.”

“You have a job to do,” Bertie said.

“I have a friend to sustain, and that is more important to me than my job right now.”

“You have a war effort to support,” Bertie repeated. “I’m going alone. Don’t you argue with me, Edith Frost.”

She had to make arrangements to get home to Hideaway.

Chapter Nine

Red stared at the telephone receiver, then replaced it in its holder on the wall of the dining room. Curious paying guests returned their attention to their noontime meals at the long table. He’d tried to keep his voice down, but it hadn’t worked very well.

Most of the guests were lodgers for a day or two, maybe a week at most. Two he recognized from years past, four of them he’d never seen.

Then there was John Martin, a good friend who’d been lodging at the Meyer Guesthouse for years, ever since he’d started teaching school in town. On weekends he went to the family farm several miles out, to help his father and fifteen-year-old brother work the fields while his older brother, Cecil, fought in the Pacific Theater. With school out, John continued to work in town during the week, helping build new classrooms.

Ivan Potts was also at the table. He and John had both been so shocked to see Red’s cane and his limp, their reactions would have been almost comical if Red was in the mood to laugh. He wasn’t.

After a couple of short words from him, both John and Ivan knew better than to ask about his injury in front of the guests.

It was awkward trying to take care of business with strangers hearing everything he’d said to Bertie over the telephone.

Ma was working in the kitchen, pulling dessert out of the oven. She hardly ever sat and ate with the lodgers and other customers. No time. No help. As soon as she got all the food on the table, it was time to start cleaning up.