In this period of time, so men thought, the woman’s place was at home, tending to house and children. However— having book-keeping and accounting experience, Agnes (Agie) Pink was not ‘that’ woman.
209
Chapter Eighteen
Time Forward 1
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 5/7/15
12:17 PM
The taxi holding the Pink’s luggage idling in now widow Gertrude Howard’s gravel driveway awaiting instructions to either unload the luggage or prepare for the long, sixteen mile drive to Loveland.
Separate from the old but well maintained cottage, the recently constructed garage contained the four cylinder, twenty-four horse power, 1914… because he felt a vehicle more akin to a truck might be needed... ‘Model H Chevrolet flat bed truck’— that to Morrie appeared to be in perfect condition.
Terrance Howard apparently being a man that did not mind paying for what he wanted, this vehicles standard equipment came with a windshield, a speedometer, a horn, a spare tire and a tool kit — and, of course, the retractable canvas shelter.
If I can ask…” he asked “...when’s the last time your husband took it from the garage?”
“Terrance, my husband and me would drive to Kimdle’s garage — ‘all’ nine miles there and back after church each Sunday… Last time… “ stifling a sob “..my husband’s been gone five, six weeks now, so it’s been a month or so.”
His luck still holding. This vehicle exactly what he’d wanted and more than he’d dare hope for.
“Mind if I try to get it going?”
“No. Of course not.”
Opening the door, he noted the leather seats appeared to be new. Sitting, he turned the ‘Petrol’ valve to ‘open’ and disengaged the clutch. Taking the crank from it’s holder behind his seat and going forward, fitted the crank into the motor receptacle— it took three, four hard cranks and on the fifth the four cylinder motor sputtered to life and, vibrating, putted in an imaginary, ‘lets go’ way.
“Mrs., uh..?
“Howard,” the old woman said, adding, “I’m Gertrude.”
Glancing at Agie, Morrie cocked his head in the general direction of the taxi waiting on the gravel driveway.
“What are you thinking of asking?” He asked as…
Agie paid the cabbie, adding a generous tip as the man unloaded their three suitcases and two carry on bags onto the gravel driveway.
“Well, I was with Terrance when he bought it and thought that six hundred and fifty dollars was far too much to pay for that kind of a…” nodding towards the sputtering automobile “...modern contraction. But he’d made his mind up and there was no changing it, so… “ thinking “...we’ve had it here for more’n a year and took that trip to Kimdle’s Garage every Sunday after church… if the weather was agreeable, so maybe, uh, four hundred-fifty?” Gertrude asked sheepishly.
Even though it was better than a year old and had made all those eighteen mile round trips to and from Kimdle’s Garage— which Morrie had every intention of stopping at to have the grease and oil checked and the petrol tank topped off— however, other than being a wanted jewel thief, Morrie Pink was a rather nice man and, not wanting to take advantage of this kindly old woman…
“Tell you what…” he said as, taking the wallet from his jacket pocket, removing fife, one hundred dollar bills “...I believe this automobile is worth more than four hundred and fifty dollars…” holding the bills forward “... so here’s five hundred. Okay!”
12:57 PM
Their cases secured onto the flatbed by a length of rope supplied by an extremely happy, Widow Howard.
Agie’ hair ruffling in the seven mile per hour breeze as, siting as closely as she could get to her husband in the passenger bucket seat. Having to speak louder than usual due to the seven mile per hour internal wind flow. “That was a very nice thing you did back there.”
Feigning ignorance, but knowing what she meant and enjoying his wife thinking him a ‘nice man’. “What do you mean?”
“Morris…” not yet used to their new names “...Morrie, you know! What you did back there…” nodding backward as she lovingly grasped his upper arm within both hands “... giving a widow more money than she had asked for.”
Removing his left hand from the steering wheel, he affectionately patted her hands, then quickly returned to the two handed task of steering along this bumpy, rutted dirt road. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my dear…” he said, keeping his eyes straightly forward “.. that you are married to a ‘very’ nice man.”
“Oh, honey…” straining to her left, the wife kissing her husbands cheek “...I have noticed.”
Everything done now… Morrie thought...paid cash for this auto, so no bill of sale and, sorry it happened, but nothing I can do about the war and they’re not accepting German passports now, so there won’t be any German detectives tracking me here, and even if they got to New York, what then?
2:02 PM
Surprised that Agie hadn’t mentioned the sinking of the Lusitania and glad she hadn’t because, so he assumed, at the time he had met her at National City Bank she had given his passport but a cursory glance and because of his British accent considered him to be a British subject — so he was, but having duel citizenship, was German also, but in truth considered himself more British than German and detests Germany for the uncalled for and cowardly sinking of an innocent passenger ship by a German U-Boat, and not sure if she remembers his passport had stated British/German citizenship, thought it best not to mention the possibility of war with Germany unless she did.
2:09 PM
Nearly nine miles into the trip, now, looking ahead, Morrie and Agni saw a wide, canvas sign fastened to two trees on either side of the rutted dirt road, reading: ‘Kimdle’s Automotive Garage’: Fuel & repairs’. Then, two hundred yards on the right, a long, squat structure with ‘Shell Oil Station’ noticeably painted with large blue lettering on the approaching sides.
2:11 PM
Stopping before two tall, hand cranked petroleum pumps. Because he wanted the motor checked to be sure the oil reserve was full, Morrie, turning the fuel valve shutting the motor —that gasped as it expired.
“’Afternoon, folks...” A man in greasy overalls and a Shell Oil cap coming from the station’s interior “...what can I do you… You’ve Gertrude’ Chevie!”
“Yes, bought it from the widow about two hours ago…” Morrie said “... and wanted to stop here for you to make sure we’re all oiled and greased up with petroleum enough to get us to Loveland.”
“On your way to Loveland, are ya.” Loosening the cap to the oil reserve, then the fuel. “Plenty enough of both to get ya ‘all’ seven miles, friend.” Spoken in a humorous tone.
Considering there had to be a some sort of a business relationship with the only automotive garage and hardware store between here and Cincinitti. “I’m Morrie Pink…” holding his hand forward “...and this is my wife A…”
Having thought ‘Agie’ a bit childish; but privately, between them was alright, but in public “… ‘Agnes’…” she said “...we’re Morrie and Agnes Pink and we’ve the new owners of the hardware store there in Loveland.”
“Really!” Vigorously shaking Morrie’ hand. “Me? I’m Kris Kindle…” motioning about “… our local grease monkey, an’ been waiting for someone to come along an’ open that place again. ‘Glad’ to meet ya two!”
“ ‘Kris Kindle’ Morrie questioned. A bit close to… you know?”
“Yeah, my folks thought it was funny, an’ ‘bout Christmas time got kids
from all over comin’ for the lolly-pops I give ‘em.”
“You’re a customer of ours, then?”
“Yes Ma’am! Have had a long-standing open account at ‘Loveland Hardware’… Matter’s’a fact, still do, an’ was wonderin’ how I was going to pay it, a but didn’t want to give it to Ol’ man Forester over at the bank that’s got the papers for…”
“I know…” Morrie interrupted “...I’ve talked to him and we’ll be getting the keys soon as A…” glancing at his wife “...Agnes and I get to town.”
Alright, then…” Kris said recovering the oil and fuel reserves “...I’ll be by to see you in a few days ‘cause there’s some thing I’ve been needing…”
“Don’t have any idea how we’re stocked there…”
“Kind’a bought the place in the blind, I’d say.”
“Yes. I heard about the foreclosure in a rather weird way and thought I’d better jump on it fast, so actually made the deal over the telephone and Western Union.”
Considering herself a progressive, forward-thinking woman, now surprised that she’d never questioned her husband about how he’d put the deal for the store together. Extremely anxious to know now. “We’d better get moving…” she said “... as we’ve got to get to the bank before it closes.”
“S’okay, Agnes — Mind if I call you Agnes?”
“S’okay, Kris Kringle— Mind if I call you ‘Kris Kringle’?”
“Nah…” appreciating the simplistic beauty of this twenty-three year old woman “...all the young’uns do it all’a the time. So, s’okay.”
Appreciating being called a ‘young’un’, Agie giggled.
Feeling good about this friendly, back and forth joking conversations; and that they’ve made their first friend in this their new lives, Morrie waited until Kris cranked the motor to life, then putting the Automobile into gear...
Turning, “Bye!” Agie waved goodbye as he waved over his shoulder.
2:31 PM
Seven miles to go… Agie thought... plenty of time. “Morrie…” she said “...you never told me how you did it; buy the store.”
Glancing at her, then back to navigating the rutty road. “Like I told the man back there…” nodding his head “...by Western Union and the telephone.”
A tinge of anger colouring her tone. “I ‘heard’ what you told him! But what about the rest of it? The ‘money part’? What did ‘we’ pay for it? ‘How did you do it’?”
His original plan was to steam to New York City under an assumed name with a forged passport, to find a jeweller crooked enough not to question where those eight perfect diamonds had come from, nor admit that he had purchased them. Then, searching maps, try to figure where in mid-America he would make a new life and—keeping days ahead of whatever law might be looking for him— take the first possible train to wherever his new, mid-American homeland might be.
In this period of time, so men thought, the woman’s place was at home, tending to house and children. However— having book-keeping and accounting experience, Agnes (Agie) Pink was not ‘that’ woman.
Surprised at his wife’s demand to know the facts of his transaction with Loveland National Bank, and not sure how much he had told her regarding the how and where three thousand dollars had come from.
Thoughts coming in the flash of seconds:
Clearly remembering… I told her I had sold a small business in Germany… this much at least. But did he tell her if he was German. At the bank—when he met Agni in her worthy position as a ‘Teller’ — releasing funds that had over a long period of time been transferred from Europe under the name of Morris Pinowskiz, she had looked at his ‘legitimate ’ passport that stated his duel citizenship; but did she remember this or, due to his British accent consider him to simply be a British Subject … Which, in fact was the case.
Slowing the Chevie from it’s breakneck speed of five miles per hour to a bit more than a two mile per hour crawl. Looking from the road to his wife and back. “When I got off the ship I had seventy-six dollars in my wallet and the ninety at your bank, and the other…” making this up as he went along “...three thousand…”
Jerking up on the seat. “ ‘Three thousand dollars’!” Near screaming in his ear. “You ‘never’ said anything about having that much money!”
“Actually you never asked and, you’re right, I never said, but we’d never talked about it before.”
“At breakfast at your aunts place when…? What’s his name?”
“ ‘Charlie Tenner’.”
“Yes, ‘Tenner’... You see I had no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go to start a new business, and when he began talking about a bankrupt hardware store in a small town in Ohio, the idea came to mind so after I walked you at the bank, I took a cab to Grand Central station, where I knew there would be telephones and a Western Union. So I called whatever bank there might be in small town Loveland, and contacted the bank’s manager; a man by the name of Mister Forester and after a bit of, uh,’conversation’, made a deal to buy the foreclosure out for ‘three hundred, thirty dollars,’ and wired the thirty dollars via Western Union and in a while got a reply back securing the deal, and soon as we get to Loveland...”
A business oriented woman; “You did good, my husband. ‘Really good’!”
I wonder what he's going to do with… "The rest of the money." Probably invest it in the stock market prior to 1929… Whoops!
It looks like that nearly new contraption (not contraction) was another good deal. But he paid more for it than he did for the whole hardware store with probably a load of hardware that he could never get rid of in a thousand years, the way those old hardware stores were. But the stuff he couldn't sell, probably came in handy for the war effort as scrap, and he cleaned up again.
This marriage does look, not only sexually just what they both needed, but a business relationship where they can share the details and work together instead of so many couples during that time at odds when the old man spent a lot of time and family money at the local bar rather than home with the kids and his woman.
Agnes still doesn't know the half of it. I wonder if this is as far as Morrie goes in telling her. Agnes deserves the truth for going out on a limb with him.
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The One Week Writing Workshop shows you how to write a book step by step through a series of motivating writing activities. Working with your own creative ideas, you’ll learn a 7-step novel writing method to use now and on your future novel projects.
