Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [36]
The longer he sat in silence, the more unraveled she became. The more unraveled she became, the more mistakes she made. The more mistakes she made, the more her irritation rose.
Where had he been? Why hadn’t he checked in? Why had he sent the tweezers back with Bettina? Tapping a finger on the switchboard, Georgie crossed her legs and glanced at her watch pin. Half past four. Thirty more minutes.
Pulling back on a key, she checked Fred and Birdie’s connection. The couple still talked, but the crackle on the line was deafening. In the background, a cuckoo clock sounded the half hour. Only one person in all of Washington County had a cuckoo clock.
She threw the key forward. “Excuse me for interrupting, Fred, Birdie, but we need those of you listening in to hang up. This is a private conversation.”
Several clicks indicated the hanging up of receivers, but the cuckoos were still singing.
“Mrs. Oodson, I’ll have to ask you to hang up, please.”
Birdie giggled, but there was no click.
“We’re waiting, Mrs. Oodson.”
The cuckoos suddenly cut off.
“I’m sorry, Fred, Birdie. You may continue.”
“Thank you, Miss Gail,” Fred answered.
“Certainly.” She returned the key to neutral and tried not to feel too smug about calling Mrs. Oodson by name, but truth was, it felt wonderful.
Ever since the Plumage League meeting, Georgie had taken great delight in thwarting the woman’s efforts to obtain gossip for Kaffeklatsch. Her clock sounded every fifteen minutes. The first quarter, the cuckoos sang four long notes. At the half, eight. At the third quarter, twelve. And on the hour, they offered a complete concert. Georgie felt certain the woman had no idea what gave her away.
Bettina sailed through the door, newspaper in hand, the screen slapping shut behind her. “The milliner’s havin’ a full-blown contest.” She gave the troubleman a quick look. “Howdy, Mr. Palmer.”
He smiled. “Howdy, Miss Bettina.”
His smile disappeared as quickly as it came and back to work he went. Not so much as a glance at Georgie.
She accepted the girl’s newspaper. “What kind of contest?”
“The person who brings in the most bird parts will win a new Easter bonnet.”
“What?”
Bettina pointed to the ad. A lovely woman wearing a capote hat with a puffed brim and folded velvet crown smiled at the reader. Two blackbirds, wings spread, perched amidst the ribbon. Georgie quickly read the caption: “Two exquisite tropical birds displaying all the iridescent hues of a peacock are lightly poised atop this lovely Easter bonnet. It is to be awarded to the person who delivers to Ottfried Millinery the highest number of bird wings, bird plumes, bird heads, bird eggs, bird nests, and whole birds between this day and Good Friday.”
Whipping off her earpiece, Georgie surged to her feet. “This is outrageous. He can’t do this.”
“Already did.” Bettina hooked her thumbs in the bib of her smock. “That there hat’s sittin’ in his front window.”
Georgie looked at Luke. He bent further over his desk, pretending deafness.
Anger shot through her. If she were a man, she’d call out Ottfried, then satisfy herself with a rousing round of fisticuffs. As refreshing as that might be, she wasn’t a man. It didn’t mean she had to sit still for this, though. Snapping on her earpiece, she plopped into her chair, plugged in line ten, and turned her crank for three long rings.
“How do you do? This is Ernst Ottfried with Ottfried’s Millinery.”
“What is the meaning of this ad, Mr. Ottfried?”
A pause. “Miss Gail?”
“You know good and well it’s me.” She leaned toward the mouthpiece. “I want to know just who you think you are, running an ad like this.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you or anyone else. Now if you’ll—”
“Oh yes, you do. You’ll be explaining it to Almighty God one day. But before you do, you’ll answer my question. I live in this town, just like our birds do. You have no right to send an entire county on a hunting expedition just so you can line your purse.”
“Miss Gail, I have never in my