And that shut up Hannnah forever on the subject of birth control.
Finally having found a worthy candidate that suited a brother’s strict requirements—a strapping Pole whose bulging muscles attested to his awesome skill as a smelting boss—one late summer evening John brought him home for supper.
Jane had arranged Celestina’s hair in a more becoming way, made her a new blouse of finest muslin, its small blue flowered pattern repeated in the piping on collar and cuffs, splurged on a chicken roasted with three vegetables—even some store-bought cheese from Mr. Hirt’s in the city. The two for whose benefit all this finery was displayed never so much as looked at each other nor said more than two words—these being good followed by evening which two hours after excruciating intermittent silences became good and night.
John stormed into the kitchen where the women were washing up.
“Cillie! What the hell got into you? You the chatterbox—I go and find someone suited—you think perhaps that is easy? There are more than twenty thousand men I had to go through! Ninnie works, decks you out, puts a festive meal on the table fit for a king and you, what do you do? You just sit there—as dumb as the village idiot. I’m going to bed!” Disgusted he turned to go.
Celestina’s “He wasn’t bad” stopped him. “His neck was huge and with those shoulders he looked like an ox—but … he wasn’t bad.”
“Then why? You could have at least smiled—once!”
“Actually, if you must know, I was trying very hard not to giggle.”
“You what?”
“Just what I said … giggle.” An unperturbed Celestina began putting away the dried dinner plates.
“I don’t understand you,” spluttered her brother.
“Oh, I know you don’t. You never have you know, not really. Gina, yes—but me, no.”
“And what is that supposed to mean? I suppose you think being an old maid will satisfy you? Well, let me tell you my fine girl—” John got no further.
“Well, let me tell you my so important Mr.! I did not come across a whole ocean to become a wife of an ox—as a matter of fact, I didn’t come all the way to America to be a wife to just anybody—especially someone my brother has to get for me. If I marry and please note the if—I will marry a man I have found, that I want to marry who really wants to marry me! And if he doesn’t work for your Mr. Henry Ford—who cares!” And with that last salvo, Celestina marched out of the kitchen.
Stunned John looked at Jane, who absolutely delighted, was trying very hard not to laugh.
“Ninnie—did you hear that? That ungrateful urchin has the gall to tell me off!”
“You must admit, John—she does have a point—Mr. Polansky may be nice, but attractive he is not.” Jane busied herself setting out the breakfast dishes.
“Attractive? What’s that got to do with finding a good provider?”
“Oh—you know, marriage is frightening enough without also having to do it with an ox.” And this time Jane couldn’t stop the laughter as her exasperated husband flounced out of the kitchen.
Determined to find herself a husband, within the month Celestina had one. A roly-poly Bavarian who owned a tiny candy shop not far from her brother’s house. A childless widower who being already broken in, a practiced milquetoast, he suited Celestina’s managerial character to perfection. He, craving a determined woman who could tell him what to do, she being one, looking for a man to manage, for both of them it was congenial need at first sight.
As usual Celestina wasted no time, informed her smitten candy man that a lengthy courtship was unnecessary and holding his hand marched him into her brother’s parlor fully confident that his wrath would have no effect on her decision.
“John, this is Mr. Josef Ritter. He is the proprietor of his own shop, already a citizen of l’America and I will be his wife. I will sell his candy, make American change. He has promised to teach me everything I need to know and be good to me.”
That left nothing more to say. Jane brought glasses, John secretly relieved, uncorked the bottle of illegal spirits, toasted the betrothed. Later that evening a slightly dazed Josef returned to his rooms above the store, content that soon they wouldn’t seem so lonely.
The wedding was brief, a honeymoon nonexistent. It took no time at all before the new Mrs. Ritter had the corner candy store organized for optimum efficiency.
Soon her jolly manner, her welcoming smile that lit her whole being whenever a child’s entrance activated the tinkling bell above her door, became the magnet that drew children to Aunt Cillie’s sugared heaven. They would stand transfixed before the wonders displayed, undecided—hesitant what to choose from amongst the endless bounty. Celestina loved these moments of indecision—of mittened fingers clutching precious pennies—eyes staring in profound concentration—small mouths already making sucking sounds in delicious anticipation.
Sometimes, with those she knew had walked the distance from poorer sections, she would make up a special, and announce that today one penny had the buying power of two. Every child in Highland Park adored Celestina and she loving them—became a mother every afternoon when school was out.
Now that she had her sewing room back, Jane was able to resume her private dressmaking business. She had missed the work she loved and now that everything cost twice as much as before, more than ever its financial rewards were welcome. So rarely was John at home that Jane could pin and sew far into most nights without being needed by anyone.
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