got someone on your job.” He glanced around at the office workers who hovered near. Though he wasn’t their supervisor, they scattered back to their desks.
He crossed the room and leaned over Bertie. “I’m sorry about your father. Are you going to be okay, hillbilly?”
The sudden, unfamiliar note of gentleness in his voice surprised her. “Thank you. I’ll be fine, but I have to catch a train to Missouri.”
He nodded. “Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”
She hesitated. She may not be back. Yes, she was needed here, but she would be needed on the farm at Hideaway with Dad gone. Cows would have to be fed and milked, the crops gathered, and she couldn’t expect Lloyd to leave his in-laws in the lurch so he could tend to everything.
“Hillbilly?” Franklin said sharply. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve got a farm to run now, and the troops need food as badly as they need airplanes.”
“Not sure I can keep your job open for you.”
“I’m not askin’ you to.”
He ran a thick palm across his forehead. “I’ll tell you what, you give me a call when you decide.”
She gave him a wry look. “I thought I was about to get fired today.”
A hint of a smile touched his mouth, and his eyes wandered downward. “That’s what I wanted you to think. You work better that way.” He gave her a wink, then turned and left, his thick shoulders grazing the sides of the door frame once more.
Edith stepped up beside Bertie. “Well, what do you know? That slave driver might have a heart, after all.”
Bertie allowed herself to be distracted. “Don’t count on it. He just knows good help when he mistreats it.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
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.
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