“Looks like I may have broken it. Rotten luck, huh?” He closed his eyes for a moment as his features tightened in pain.
“The worst,” Betty agreed. “I’m so sorry.”
“At least we won.” He became distracted as a cadre of the trainers swarmed him, and Betty stepped back to let them examine him. After a few minutes, they peeled away, so she stepped closer again. He grimaced as he propped himself on his elbow. “Looks like I’m off to the hospital for the docs to check it out.”
Before she could say anything, two trainers bustled forward, and Bill groaned as they hoisted him onto a stretcher and headed for the door.
“Take care of yourself,” she called to him. “Have someone get word to me on how you’re doing.”
He twisted and his gaze locked with hers as he was carried off. Betty waved, but could only see the top of his blond head before he disappeared into the crowd outside the trainer’s room.
A WEEK LATER, Mrs. Riel, elegant in a riding costume, led Betty into the family’s house, a large stucco Tudor on a quiet street not far from Lake Michigan. Bill had once mentioned that his father owned a clothing manufacturing company, and judging from the thick carpet runner in the hallway and oil paintings in gilt frames, business was going well. They headed to a solarium where Bill sat ensconced on a chintz sofa. A pretty dark-haired girl resembling Clara Bow sat on a matching ottoman next to Bill, a stack of papers and textbooks perched on her lap. Betty eyed her and tried to smile.
“You have another visitor, Bill,” his mother announced.
“Thanks, Ma. Hey, Betty, do you know Millie Billram?”
Millie removed the stack of schoolwork from her lap and leapt to her feet, pushing out her hand. “Hi, aren’t you a Kappa Kappa Gamma?”
“I am.” Betty shook her hand. “Of course I recognize you. Are you a second-year?”
“Yes. I just came by to bring Bill some of the work he’s been missing from our accounting class. I guess I should be going.” She looked back and forth between Betty and Bill as if hoping for an invitation to stay longer.
“Millie, you’re a peach for bringing me all this,” Bill said. “Thanks. I should be back at school sometime in the next couple of weeks.”
“Swell. If you need someone to help you around campus, carry your books or anything, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.” She placed the books on a corner of the card table next to Bill and began sifting through the sections of the Chicago Tribune, also on the table, organizing pages and stacking them into a single pile.
“You don’t need to worry about the newspaper. I’m still going through it.”
“Millie dear, I’m heading upstairs to change, shall I walk you out?” Mrs. Riel asked, stepping forward, and Betty understood where Bill’s smooth congeniality came from.
Millie allowed Mrs. Riel to guide her out, leaving Bill and Betty alone. His foot, covered in a thick white plaster cast, sat high on a mountain of pillows. A plate with a turkey sandwich and a glass of iced tea rested on the card table beside the newspaper and the schoolwork that Millie had delivered.
“It looks like you’ve got plenty of company coming through.”
“Yeah, I wish the fellas would stop by, but it’s you I’m most happy to see.”
Betty gave him a skeptical look. “Really? Even with all of these pretty girls visiting?”
Bill gave a mischievous smile and folded his arms behind his head as he stretched out. “I can’t fall behind on my studies, can I? I’m grateful for all of the help that’s being offered to me.”
“I’ll bet you are.” Betty laughed and sank down on a matching chair.
“I know you’re too busy to ferry my classwork back and forth. How’s training going?”
“It’s fine.”
“You miss me?”
She affected a dramatic expression and tone of anguish. “I do. So much, in fact, that I can barely run. I’m afraid Stella Walsh is going to cream me the next time I see her.”
“Is that so?” He propped himself up on his elbow. “You know, I’m out for spring track.”
“The whole season?”
“Yeah, I’m disappointed. Apparently, this foot break is a real bugger, with tendon damage, the works, but you know what I realized?”
“What?”
“Because of this injury, I won’t be an official member of the track team this spring.”
“Does Coach Hill know you’re out for the season?”
“He does. He came by the other day to check on me, and I broke the bad news to him. I also told him that I plan to ask you out.”
At this, Betty straightened in surprise. “You did?”
“Yep. So, what do you say? Give an injured fella some mercy and go out for dinner with me?”
“You don’t look like you’re going anywhere any time soon.”
“I don’t intend to wait until my cast comes off and risk you falling for some other guy. How about you come over tomorrow night and join me for dinner? Just the two of us.”
“As you said earlier, I’m very busy. I don’t think I can fit anything else into my schedule.”
“Too busy for a poor fella who can’t walk? Now, that’s just cruel.”
“Well, I don’t want you to ruin my reputation as a nice person, so I suppose I’ll come after all.”
Bill raised his brows. “I make no promises I won’t ruin your reputation.”
Betty threw a cushion at Bill as she stood to go. “Fine, you don’t scare me. See you tomorrow night.”
19.
Spring 1932
Malden, Massachusetts
WHEN LOUISE RETURNED HOME TO TELL HER PARENTS she had taken a job with Mrs. Clark, they met the news with stoic resignation. Louise had steeled herself for an argument, but it never arrived. Instead, Mama folded herself onto a kitchen chair and rested one of her hands, cracked and worn, on the table. “Mrs. Grandaway’s children tell me I’ve done all that’s been needed. Friday will be my last day. The house is being sold this weekend. Time for me to go.”
Louise checked Papa for his reaction. Gray lightened his hairline, gray that hadn’t been there the last time Louise had taken a good look at him. His brown eyes, usually sparkling and teasing, appeared weary. Louise bit her lip. “Maybe my job with Mrs. Clark would be better for you.”
“No, it wouldn’t. You were hired to be an assistant to Miss Mabel. They can’t have Miss Mabel and me, that’d be too much. You go on and take that work. I’m not sure if anyone in town needs someone. If they don’t, some of the ladies in church have spoken of the laundry.”
“Oh, Mama, you don’t want the laundry.”
“Of course I don’t, but it’s reliable work, and in some ways, it might be easier. The idea of just doing a job and not getting mixed up in family affairs offers some advantages. I spent years with the Grandaways and it’s been exhausting.”
Working in the laundry was steady, as Mama said, but brutal, filled with harsh cleaners and backbreaking labor. The pay wouldn’t be as good as Mrs. Grandaway’s, but now Louise understood why her parents hadn’t argued when she had announced she didn’t plan to return to school. They needed her wages. The family needed her. Knowing that brought a heavy sense of responsibility, but also pride.