When Alvin finished his shift, he sat back down in the booth across from Gilda. She read her list to him, which included things such as “Find new living arrangements,” and “No matter what, do not call your parents.” Alvin sighed and looked dreamily at the ceiling. He said when he was younger, he wanted to be a firefighter. When Gilda asked what stopped him, he said he’d been drafted into the Army and by the time the war was over, he had a steel plate in his head. “They wouldn’t take me down at the station,” he said, tapping on his temple. “Still, I’m just glad I made it back alive. That’s more than half my platoon can say.”
After a few minutes, a pretty girl came to the booth and smiled at Gilda. She looked at Alvin, who introduced the girl–Patsy—to Gilda. Patsy was Alvin’s sister, and she brought a small grocery store bag with a couple of outfits in it for Gilda, along with a winter coat. When Gilda tried to resist, Patsy said, “Are you kidding? Now I have an excuse to go shopping!”
Gilda smiled, thanked Patsy and Alvin, and said goodbye as they headed out. On his way to the front door, Alvin turned back and said, “It never hurts to check our bulletin board for job opportunities and housing in case you’re thinking of sticking around Duluth.” Gilda smiled, nodded, and Alvin added, “For the record? I’ve only known you a few hours, but if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, you could never wind up ordinary.”
Gilda waved goodbye and walked over to a corkboard in the front corner of the diner, where Alvin had pointed on his way out the door. She hadn’t noticed it on her way in, but then again, she’d been crying too hard to see much of anything. She saw pieces of paper and notecards advertising things such as “free puppies,” used vehicles, and “farm-fresh eggs.” One sign caught her eye because it was on a napkin and stuck to the center of the board. It was an advertisement for a live-in housekeeper looking for a suntan. “Looking for a suntan?” she whispered, laughing. “What in the world?”
She removed the pushpin and put the napkin in her purse. She went to the ladies’ room and changed into a floral top and jeans that fit as well as if she’d pulled them from her own closet. She stuffed her wedding dress in the trash can and fluffed her hair in the smudged mirror. “You’ll get through this,” she said to her reflection. “You will.” She went to the counter and squared away her bill with the owner, who charged her less than half of what she owed. She asked if he knew a place where she could sleep for the night, and he motioned for the front door. “Across the street, down one block, and turn right,” he said. “Colleen’s Boarding House. Tell her Ernie sent you.”
Sliding into the long brown coat Patsy had given her, Gilda stood tall and exited the diner. She did as Ernie said and crossed the street, walked a block, and turned to find Colleen’s. It was an unassuming white house with a sign in the yard. It looked like temporary housing, which was exactly what Gilda was looking for. Beyond that night, she had no idea what to expect, but for the moment, a bed would do just fine. She walked up the front steps, knocked on the front door, and when a plump woman with kind eyes answered, she said, “Hello, ma’am. My name is Gilda. Do you have a room I can stay in for a night, maybe two?”