Jane found she was not a natural mother. This did not surprise her, for the one from whom she might have learned by example had been denied her and nuns, as virgin brides, women incased in Divine Chastity, not earthly bonds, lacked such experience except in faded retrospect. Though never abusive in the physical sense, it was Jane’s very lack of exhibited emotion that eliminated the recognition of spontaneous affection from her child’s life. It was her way. If overt loving preordained the loss of it, then it was better not to venture into it at all. This catechism of self-protection against eventual emotional pain that had replaced her God at such a young age—matured, until she became what she was unaware of, a cool creature contained, not given to introspection of her lack of human passion.
Due to the devoted mothering of Hannah and Rumpelstiltskin by day, in the evenings passed around to delighted boarders, Michael was a happy baby, given to cooing appreciably to all who held him tenderly enchanted by his brown velvet gaze of trust and contemplation. Except for feeding him, Jane found her mother’s duties unnecessary for her child’s well-being. As this did not bother her in the least, Hannah could indulge her longing for motherhood by proxy, without any danger of overstepping emotional boundaries belonging to another. So, Michael thrived. Adored by one, accepted by another, his father proud—his friends besotted and, when Henrietta’s little girls came to play and tickled his toes, he was in seventh heaven. A child loved and loving, his charm infectious tonic to all he encountered, Michael was, as such children often are, sacrifice to future tragedy. But, for now, it was his time still whole, unblemished and life welcomed him with open arms.
9
Rumors that Henry Ford believed boardinghouses were potential harborers of rampant sin persisted. His belief was that women being weak, easily tempted creatures with their husbands away at work, any lodger so inclined could have his lascivious way with his landlady without encountering any resistance. Every day there were new speculations as to when Ford’s Sociological Department would be given the order to close all boardinghouses as well as rooming houses run by the wives of his employees. This, plus the conditions demanded for eligibility to share in the company’s profits, now forced the still unmarried men of the Geiger house to act.
Carl, who had only taken a fancy to one of the Irish typists at the plant, now began courting her in earnest, telling Hannah, who worried he was rushing into matrimony for the wrong reasons, that he was only doing so out of the simple needs of a normal man, not simply to conform to the Boss’s rules. When the only obstacle that stood in the way of his lady love’s acceptance of his marriage proposal was her refusal to abandon her parents, Carl bought the house they were living in, married his Rosie, and moved over to Irishtown. Peter found himself a comely widow lady willing to shed her memories, married and moved over to Polishtown. For a while, Jane sewed so much wedding finery, she was too busy to contemplate the changes that were taking place. Zoltan, who categorically refused to marry, sent for his mother. While waiting for her to make the journey from Bulgaria, he began searching for a place to install her in to keep house for him. Jimmy, when offered a promotion if he returned to England to take up an advisory position at the Ford assembly plant in Manchester, accepted, gloating that he had found a way of escaping the shackles of marriage by simply returning from whence he had come. They threw him a farewell party—Hannah outdoing herself, constructing a resplendent trifle made with mountains of cream and real sherry! There were lots of jokes about the mania for drinking tea, pomp and circumstance, old world class distinctions but, despite the jovial mood, its gaiety was a bit forced, as though everyone had made up their mind to make Jimmy’s farewell evening something it just couldn’t be—a happy occasion. Even Stan finally capitulated, and found himself a woman. A fiery Sicilian, magnificent in rage as she was in displayed passion that Hannah swore had to be a practicing witch. Having looked forward to chatting with her in Italian, Jane found her southern dialect impossible to decipher but, as Serafina spoke some English, they could communicate.
Despite an inner fury, Hannah knew her days as mothering landlady were coming to an end, realized that the benefits to be gained by the approval of the company inspectors would eventually outweigh those of personal liberty. Now, in the evenings when the boarders took their places in the parlor, empty chairs stood as silent reminders of absent friends. For the first time, the Geiger boardinghouse had empty beds to fill and Fritz mentioned there were Hungarians looking for room and board.
“Hungarians? I don’t want! Stay one week, den disappear with all de silver spoons!”
“Be careful, Hannachen!” said her husband in German, “that is not American fair thinking.”
“Oh? What is fair American, please tell me? Not taking into any boardinghouses black skins?”
Fritz decided to go back to the safety of his newspaper. Even the high wage of Five-Dollars-a-Day could not compensate for the loss of income from steady boarders. Hannah, not willing to take in unskilled laborers whose languages no one could understand, began to worry.
It was then that Mr. Ebberhardt Fishbein, traveling salesman of perfection, decided he needed roots. A place of permanence to welcome him when returning from his many arduous travels on the rutted roads of the Middle West. And so, one morning, he approached Hannah as she was putting away the breakfast dishes.
“Dear Frau Geiger,” the little man always reverted to formal address when conducting business.
Hannah, knowing this, replied in kind. “Yes, Mr. Fishbein. What can I do for you?”
“I have been giving this matter much thought. Actually, it has taken deep contemplation and I have come to the conclusion that I wish to rent permanent accommodations, here, in your so excellent establishment. Please, note the use of the word permanent. For this, I would require two rooms, preferably connecting, with full board when in residence, of course none when absent. This arrangement would also need to include the laundering and pressing of such various intimate articles as shirts, collars and cuffs, the degree of starch to be decided at a later date. If this would meet with you and your dear husband’s approval, I would be more than pleased to negotiate a fair and binding yearly sum.”
Hannah’s love of theatrics always blossomed when her Ebbely performed. Looking down at him as he stood before her looking up, he acting the suppliant aristocrat now fallen on hard times, needing shelter in a boardinghouse, she curtsied, replied she would be overjoyed to welcome such a distinguished gentleman as himself to take up permanent residence in her humble abode, reached down, lifted him off the floor, kissed his little forehead and plunked him back down. Mr. Fishbein beamed.
Their game over, Hannah got serious.
“Ebbely, sit. No, no, we discuss de money later—first, we got to talk. You want coffee? A little something?” Frowning, the little man declined, wondering what was bothering her. “Now, listen good. If dis ting wit de boardinghouse dat Mr. Henry Ford dey say has de bug up his nose about, happens and I gotta close, what den? What happens to you? Only fair we discuss dis before you bring all your stuff. I know you! Gott im Himmel—will you have stuff! Little carpets, lamps mit fringes, porcelain dancing ladies. Wit de bric-and-de-bracs, loaded you will be!”
“Ah! How you do know me!”