A Cup of Tea - Amy Ephron [31]
“I went to give her notice. And she gave me notice instead.” Dora laughed nervously. “I was afraid that—She suggested that she should design for me. And that my customers like her work. They do, you know. If I hadn’t,” she said, “she would have gone to Ella’s Haberdashery or some-such…” Dora was frightened Jane would be angry with her.
“You don’t have to explain to me,” said Jane.
“Don’t I?” said Dora. “I feel responsible. They met in my shop, you know.”
“No,” said Jane, “they met before. They met the same day I met her. I sent her to you. Remember?”
“Yes,” said Dora. “I’d forgotten that.”
“Have you seen her?” asked Jane.
“Never comes in herself,” said Dora with a bit of an edge. “Has her actress girlfriend bring the hats in,” she said. Her opinion of Eleanor had been colored by her business dealings with her. She didn’t guess the real reason for it and that Eleanor’s condition had made her unable to show herself. “Quite the little star, our Eleanor,” she said. “But she’s talented. She designed this.” She held up a beige hat with very simple lines. “I think it would look good on you.”
Jane tried it on. “I’ll take it,” she said and insisted on paying for it, “as long as you give me her address.”
There was no answer at the apartment but as Jane was leaving the building, she ran into Eleanor entering the lobby pushing Tess in her carriage.
One look at the child’s face made Jane certain of whose child she was.
“My roommate’s baby,” Eleanor said much too quickly. And then added, “Were you looking for me?” with that curious open quality she had that could be so disarming.
Jane hadn’t been expecting the baby and suddenly couldn’t bring herself to tell Eleanor about Philip’s death. “I was,” she said. “But I’ll stop back. It’s—late. I’ll stop back another time.”
“The hat looks good on you,” said Eleanor. She hesitated. “I would have given you one.”
She wanted to ask her about Philip. It had been six months since she’d heard from him. But how could she ask about Philip…
“She’s pretty,” said Jane, looking at the baby.
“Yes, she is,” said Eleanor. “And even tempered. I’m glad you like the hat,” she said again.
“Yes, it’s my style,” said Jane. “Plain. Usually. Plain and direct. Not always.”
Eleanor was quite agitated when she got upstairs to her apartment. She was convinced that Jane had come to tell her something. It seemed so odd she’d had no letter from him. She put Tess down for a nap, then changed her mind and bundled the child in warm clothes, put a blanket over her in the stroller, and walked the many blocks to the Armory, almost as if it were a vigil.
There was a list of dead and missing, handwritten, posted on the outside gate. Philip’s name wasn’t on it. She pushed her way into the War Office past the line of waiting women with children hanging on their skirts.
The building was institutional like a bad school, the walls may have started out yellow or green but had aged to be a hybrid contributing to the grim, efficient, oddly oppressive atmosphere. Eleanor was aware of the sound her shoes made as she walked to the end of the hall to an office marked by a plaque which said, “Office of War Information.” She spoke to a middle-aged secretary in military dress.
She took a seat on the wooden bench holding the blanketed, sleeping Tess against her shoulder as the secretary went to inquire if General Armstrong would see her.
“He’ll see you,” said the woman. “I thought he would.”
Eleanor walked into the General’s Office and took a seat across from him. Tess was sleeping in her arms.
“I’ve come—to ask about my—brother,” she said.
How many conversations like this had he had in the past few months. “His name, please,” said the General in low and measured tones.
“Captain Philip Alsop.”
He hesitated. He knew what had happened to Philip Alsop. He shifted some papers on his desk. He