made Elvira love her all the more. And George? Well, of course, no dearer man lived. She had recognised that fact the night, long ago—it was long ago, wasn’t it?—when he’d taught the little crowd at the Harvester Arms the new dance steps. No airs about him; only goodwill and generosity and an unconscious charm, charm that got under your skin because it was without guile.
“You’re fond of him, I know you’re fond of him,” Cora went on. “And he’s still young. He needs the warmth of a young woman, Elvira, so please make him feel young. Make him feel warm.” She squeezed Elvira’s hand until the young woman winced. “For me.”
Elvira glanced around the room of dancers, a room that ought to feel familiar. But in this strange moment, the room and the world in which it existed were suddenly unknown, utterly new. A thrill—or was it a terror—ran through her.
“Elvira! Just the person I’ve been looking for,” George’s mother broke in. “Let’s find a quiet corner. I have a proposition.” She led the way to a sunroom at the back of the house, away from the music.
Dazed, disoriented, Elvira followed. Another proposition?
They took seats on a settee before a small hearth. “Now then, Elvira, Mr. Lundeen and I have been discussing you. And we’re agreed that you’re too bright for the store.”
Elvira tried to focus. “I . . . love the store.”
“But you don’t want to spend your whole life there.”
How difficult it was, finding her way back into known territory. “No?” Cora’s words did not want to give way to Juliet’s. “For me,” Cora had said.
Juliet went on, “Now, what I suggest is only a proposal. And you’re free to tell me to mind my own business. But Laurence and I think you should go to college. Maybe the Normal School in Mankato. From what we’ve seen, you’re a born teacher.”
The older woman settled back and stared into the fire. “We’re very fond of you. You know that. When we were younger, we hoped to have a daughter. And, well, we do have a wonderful daughter in Cora—but we think of you that way, too.”
Elvira was silent, still dazed by the earlier conversation.
“Have I upset you?”
Catching hold of Juliet’s question, at last, Elvira shook her head, slowly, from side to side. “You couldn’t upset me. You and Mr. Lundeen have been so good to me, ever since the night at the church bazaar when he bought my apple pie.”
“Well, then, hear me out. We want to pay your expenses to college.”
“I don’t think . . .”
“Laurence says you’re not interested in marriage. That’s as may be. But a young woman without a husband needs a career.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. You could start in the fall, if that was convenient.” Juliet rose and shook out her skirts. “I have to get back to my guests. You think about it.”
Elvira felt as if she were in a game of blindman’s buff and, blindfolded, had been spun round and round. She sat, dizzy and unstirring, her brain groping.
If she’d understood correctly, the Lundeens were offering her college. Teacher’s college. Such a thought had never crossed her mind. She was a country girl who’d been happy to find a place in town. And what of Cora and George? Stupefied, drugged with confusion, she massaged her brow.
“Cora says you’ve promised me some waltzes.” George Lundeen appeared in the doorway, light from the chandelier in the next room silhouetting him, projecting a figure of mystery. He held out a hand and Elvira rose, a pulse beating hard in her throat, her bones melting. She did not think she could stand upright if he did not hold her—and she him.
chapter sixteenchapter sixteen
“COLLEGE!” NELL CRIED. “My stars, Elvira, what did you tell her?”
“Nothing. She said I should think about it.”
“But of course you’ll go. Such an opportunity.” Nell poured tea and they sat at the kitchen table. “Did George bring you home?”
“Yes.” Grains of sugar scattered across the oilcloth.
“Is anything wrong?”
“No.”
“You seem . . . shaky.”
“The brandy punch, probably.”
Nell studied Elvira. “You do want to go, don’t you? To college?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I want to learn. I want to be somebody. But I don’t want to leave the store.”
“Really?”
“What’s so strange about that?”
“Well, the store is only a small world, that’s all. College is a big world. Are you frightened of college?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Mankato’s bigger than Harvester. You’d meet so many new people.”
“I just don’t know, Nell. Please.” The teacup clattered in the saucer as she rose.
The querulousness in Elvira’s voice was unfamiliar. “I’m sorry,” Nell said. “I won’t keep at you.”
Lifting her skirts in her fists, Elvira fled to the bedroom.
Here again was the girl warm and intelligent enough to win love and respect yet secretive and untrusting enough to close a door behind her, shutting Nell out.
For months, Nell purposely refrained from mentioning college again. Juliet Lundeen, respecting Elvira’s indecision, said only that there was no hurry, the Normal School wasn’t going anywhere.
And Juliet remained patient, if puzzled, by Elvira’s silence during the coming year. But, after all, the girl was young and there was plenty of time.
However, in the fall of 1904, while Hilly started first grade, Elvira began working full-time at the store. This, Juliet had not anticipated, and she did wonder if Elvira intended to turn her back on college altogether. And, if so, why? Nor could she ever have anticipated what the year would bring Elvira.
Once or twice over the year 1904, Nell broached the subject of college, but each time, Elvira drew an icy curtain around herself and walked away, saying that she was still thinking about it.
Apart from these occasions, Elvira was much her own self, and from her increased salary, she was paying Nell a small room and board consideration. So, really, from September of 1904 to March of 1905, life above Rabel’s Meat Market was genial.
Nell was occupied with teaching and with overseeing Hilly’s first-grade projects and lessons. Additionally, she had acquired a small social life. One night a week, three or four elementary teachers, among them Hilly’s teacher, Diana Hapgood, joined her in the apartment for an evening of darning and mending followed by tea and cake. Diana referred to them as the “Darn It, We’re Good Club.”
As she herself was busy, Nell was pleased when Elvira once again began attending the Saturday dances at the Harvester Arms. And she paid no particular attention when, occasionally, the girl returned late from work. Elvira was, for heaven’s sake, grown-up now, old enough to be a wife and mother, certainly old enough to have an independent social life.
But then, sometime in May—Nell wasn’t sure just when—Elvira