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Caleb knocked on the open door twice,
clearing his throat while respectfully looking down at the floor.
Jonathan pulled away reluctantly and sighed.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said quietly and
squeezed her one last time. She smiled, her eyes following him
until the door closed. Still leaning against the wall, she took a
deep breath and folded her arms, looking around the drab apartment.
It seemed larger and colder now that she was alone. The hollow day
loomed before her, and the last thing she needed was more time to
think. There was busy work she could occupy herself with, but even
if she took painstaking detail with each task, she would never fill
the day. She tuned the radio and began her mundane chores.

∞∞∞

The walk to the shipping dock was brisk. They
passed the gate where the day workers gathered and heard the
supervisor announce how many men were needed for the day. The
workers clamored and yelled over each other in hopes of being
chosen. Caleb swatted Jonathan in the chest with the back of his
hand as they walked past.

“We’re lucky,” he said, gesturing to the
frenzy of desperate day workers. Jonathan was hardly in a frame of
mind to consider himself lucky. They walked around the corner,
dodging delivery trucks, vendors haggling deals and men selling
apples from crates. They passed a man standing beside his new
automobile with a defeated look on his face. There was a cardboard
sign set on the windshield; shaky handwriting offered the Packard
for $100 cash. A newspaper boy shouted the day’s headlines that the
worst was over and recovery had begun both here and abroad. The
friends paid no attention to this, especially Jonathan. He shut his
eyes tightly as he walked by. He knew in his soul nothing would
ever be normal again.

Aryl led them through the side entrance of a
brick building and made his way back to Roman’s office.

“Aryl, good to see you. These the friends you
were talkin’ about?”

Aryl nodded. “Roman, this is Jonathan Garrett
and Caleb Jenkins.” Roman nodded at each of them before he turned
to his desk.

“Got some paperwork for you boys to fill out.
Just basic employment stuff. Should only take a few minutes. I
didn’t have near as much trouble getting the big boss to approve
the third guy. You know the positions I was trying to fill when you
came to see me, Aryl? Well, I found out later that two of our guys
took a flying leap off a tall building. Put every hard earned cent
into those stocks and lost everything they ever worked for.” He
paused, shaking his head. “Nice guys, too. Anyway, a third guy
busted up his arm pretty bad yesterday, so it all worked out I
guess,” he said, handing out the small packets of papers. “Get that
filled out and I’ll show you around. Then I’ll get you boys to
work.”

Ten minutes later, Roman was leading the trio
out the back of the office building into the bustling shipping
yard. “The large cranes lift crates and pallets off the ship deck
and lower them to the platform here. These forklifts carry each
load to different areas. These little inventions sure have made
life easier. Anyway, once inventoried, it’s hand-loaded onto the
trucks for delivery. That’s what you boys will be doing.” Jonathan
was visibly irritated at Roman’s repeated use of the term boys and
resented being spoken to as if he had no idea how a shipping yard
operated.

A tall, thin man with a very weathered face
appeared next to Roman.

“These the new hires?”

“Yeah. Harvey, this is Caleb and Jon,” Roman
said, pointing to each. “And you remember Aryl. This is your
supervisor, boys. You’ll report to him and he’ll show you what to
do. I’ve got a meeting, so I’ll let you take over, Harvey. See you
around, boys.”

Harvey turned to face Aryl. “Good to see you
again.”

“You, too, Harvey. How’s the family?”

“Good. Guess we better get you boys started
on the day. Don’t know if Roman told you, hours are eight to six,
Monday through Saturday. You get an hour for lunch. You bring
gloves?” Only Caleb pulled a pair out of his back pocket.

“Well, you’ll live one day without them,” he
said to Aryl and Jonathan. “But I’d get some soon. This job’ll tear
up a pair of hands quick, and,” he laughed lightly as he gestured
to Jonathan, “those fancy slacks won’t make it through the day.”
Jonathan’s face burned red with embarrassment and frustration.
“Loading area's down here. Follow me.”

He ordered Jonathan and Aryl to start
unloading a pallet of hundred-pound sacks of flour onto a delivery
truck and took Caleb down to a different area to work on a pallet
of sacks of potatoes. There was no shortage of work. As soon as one
pallet was cleared, the forklift would position another near a
waiting truck. Jonathan’s back was aching before the first hour was
up, and Aryl’s hands had started to blister.

∞∞∞

Ava paced the living room, having finished
the breakfast dishes, made the bed, wiped down the bathroom, and
cleaned out the fireplace from last night’s fire. She had swept the
floors twice and cleaned the windows around the masking tape. She
buttoned her sweater and put on her hat, having decided to go up
and see Claire. She paused at the door, listening for the
beady-eyed woman, whom she knew wouldn’t stop talking once given
the opportunity to start. She slipped out the door and up the
stairs to the next floor.

Claire opened the door and hugged Ava before
moving aside to let her in.

“I was just about to come down and see you,”
she said, as Ava walked into the living room.

“I couldn’t bear to just sit there any
longer,” Ava said, rolling her eyes. “I thought we could go out and
get some shopping done together. There's a few things I need. We’ll
get Arianna, too.” Ava walked over to the fireplace to look closer
at the wall where Claire had started outlining. There were pencil
sketch beginnings of a beach and waves on one side, an outline of
billowing clouds on the other side but nothing in the middle.

“I’m working on our beach,” Claire said
proudly. “Just over the fireplace I’m going to paint the
lighthouse. And on the other side of the lighthouse, I’ve outlined
storm clouds. I can’t work on those until I get some black paint,”
she said, tracing the pencil drawn outline of the waves with her
finger. “I can work with pencils for now.”

“It’s going to be beautiful, Claire. I can’t
wait to see it finished,” Ava said, admiringly.

“Personally, I think you should paint on
canvas, so you can take it with you when we leave here.” They both
turned to see Arianna in the doorway. She had dressed to the nines
in a blood red, silk, straight dress, black shoulder fur and
matching cloche hat with jeweled beadwork adorning one side. She
did not even attempt to dress plainly for the sake of blending in.
Claire shrugged and looked back at the wall.

“I’ll enjoy it while we’re here, and
hopefully it’ll be enjoyed by the next tenants. Right now, I need
it to be larger than life,” she said with a sigh and turned to her
friends. “So, do you want the grand tour?” she asked sarcastically
and took them through the three tiny rooms. It was similar to the
others’ apartments, only the floor plan reversed.

“I was pretty horrified when I first walked
in here. Aryl offered for me to paint every wall in the apartment,
and I just might. It might help cheer the place up a bit.” There
was a similar, ragged couch covered by a sheet, a wooden chair in
the corner by a small, slightly lopsided bookshelf, and a small,
wooden table with two chairs near the entrance to the kitchen.

“Well, I’m not spending a dime on this dump.
We’re not going to be here that long,” Arianna said with a snort.
“Caleb is already working on some ideas. I’m sure they’ll have us
out of here by New Year’s,” she said confidently.

“That would be nice,” Ava said quietly.
Something told her that Arianna was floating on false hopes, but
she wasn’t about to ruin what bit of optimism she was managing to
cling to.

“Why don’t we get out of here for a couple
hours? I have a list of things I need to pick up, and maybe we can
grab a late lunch out,” Arianna suggested.

“Yes. That’s sounds wonderful,” Ava said and
smiled.

On the way out, they passed the beady-eyed
woman talking incessantly to a young woman who was juggling a bag
of groceries in one arm and a baby on the other hip while a toddler
clung to her dress. She was trying to unlock her door without
spilling the bag or the baby. The beady-eyed one offered the
struggling woman no help but continued to rattle on about curing a
baby’s colic and her own intestinal ailments. The red-haired woman
smiled politely as the three passed, and Ava was debating whether
to stop and help her when the beady-eyed woman noticed them and
turned. Ava put her head down and walked faster, practically
running down the next set of stairs. Once on the street, Arianna
started laughing.

“Please say that wasn’t one of your
neighbors?”

“She is,” she said grimly. “I haven’t met the
other one yet, the one with the baby.”

Arianna changed the subject abruptly. “Let’s
catch the trolley. We’ll head uptown to have lunch and do our
shopping there.”

∞∞∞

The lunch whistle blew much to Jonathan’s
relief, who not only was starving but also positive his back was
going to snap in half if he lifted one more sack of flour. Aryl
rested on the bumper of the truck and looked at his hands. There
were already several blisters on the palms of his hands, and his
fingers ached. He flexed them, trying to relieve some of the
stiffness and regain some feeling. Caleb joined them, and they all
headed out of the yard to find lunch. They chose a deli close by
and ordered sandwiches. They ate by the window and watched the
chaotic scene of the passersby rushing in every direction.

“When’s quitting time again?” Jonathan asked,
while stretching his neck from side to side.

“Six,” Aryl said flatly. Even his normally
good mood was muted today.

They finished lunch in silence and headed
back to the yard. Jonathan had a hard time keeping up a decent
pace. He was already exhausted from the morning’s work and adding a
full stomach to that caused him to feel sluggish and mentally foggy
as well.

∞∞∞

Arianna perked up noticeably once back on
familiar streets surrounded by fashionable storefronts and
restaurants. The appetizing aromas of gourmet creations floated in
the air, and the relaxed pace of immaculately dressed people going
about their daily errands delighted her. She led the trio into “La
Petite Bouchée”. She animatedly greeted the waiter in French, whom
she obviously knew well. They chatted like old friends, inquired
about each others' spouses, and flattered each other with
compliments. Finally, she ordered crepes and coffee for them all.
The waiter went to prepare their order, and Arianna sat down,
smiling as she glanced around. In this place, it was easy to
pretend all was right with the world; those not destroyed by the
crash had continued with their lives. “I think we should have lunch
here once a week,” she suggested. Ava and Claire looked hesitant.
“Oh, come on, we don’t have to spend a lot of money. We’ll just get
coffee, but it’s so nice to be here rather than there. We can
almost pretend that nothing ever happened,” she said quietly.
Claire patted her hand.

“Once a week it is then, even just for
coffee. Every Friday.”

“I thought of something for us to do to
occupy ourselves at least for tomorrow afternoon. We can write to
friends and family and let them know, delicately, our change of
address. I’m going to stop by the stationer today to pick up some
letter paper. Why don’t you both come over, and we’ll write letters
together?” Arianna finished just as the waiter delivered their
coffee.

“That’s a good idea. We haven’t heard from
Jonathan’s parents in several weeks, so perhaps a letter from them
would cheer him up a little,” Ava said.

“How is he?” Claire asked, concerned.

Before Ava could reply, Arianna changed the
subject. She had no interest in glum conversation. She was only
interested in pretending that nothing had ever happened, and she
played the part well.

“Oh, look! There’s Sarah!” She half-stood,
waving to get her friend’s attention. “I wish she had her baby with
her. Oh, I’ve wanted to see it so badly. Her baby shower was the
end all, wasn’t it? Her organizer did a fantastic job . . . .” Her
voice trailed off as Sarah caught sight of her and turned away as
if she hadn't seen Arianna.

Ava knew exactly what was happening. She had
seen through Sarah’s shallow personality from the first time they
met. She tried to distract Arianna.

“What style of stationery did you have in
mind, Arianna?” she asked, suddenly appearing to be terribly
interested in writing paper. Arianna ignored her and continued to
try to get Sarah’s attention. When it became obvious to Arianna
that Sarah was ignoring her purposefully, she shouted Sarah’s name
so loud that it was impossible to ignore her. Everyone in the café
turned to look, and Sarah, embarrassed, hurried over to
Arianna.

“Sarah, did you not see me wave at you?”
Arianna demanded, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yes, I did. I just thought it best if I . .
. well,” Sarah stammered and nervously looked around her, ashamed
even to be speaking to Arianna.

“If you what? Ignored me? That’s hardly
polite, Sarah.”

“Well, Arianna, things have changed, you
know. I’ve heard, well, we’ve all heard about what happened. And we
feel terrible for you, me and the other wives, but things just
aren’t the same now and we thought it best to leave some things in
the past, you know? Thought it might make it easier for you. I’m
sure you understand.” Sarah tried to wrap her cruel words with a
smile.