The next morning, Gilda was awakened with a tap on the door. She answered, and Colleen said she forgot to mention that breakfast was served until ten. “It’s nearly that now,” she said, looking at her watch. Gilda apologized and said she hadn’t expected to sleep so soundly. She told Colleen the mattress was heaven sent. Colleen smiled, said she was glad Gilda liked it, and told her to put on a robe before coming downstairs. “We get all kinds in here,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you don’t want stared at, I suggest covering up, or better yet, putting on your clothes.”
Downstairs, there were half a dozen people in the dining room reading books, talking about the weather, putting jam on toast, and circling want-ads in the newspaper. Gilda would’ve thought it reasonable to mistake the group for a family. When she introduced herself, she asked how long they’d each been staying at Colleen’s. The answers varied, but were anywhere from a couple of days to a few years. After a while, everyone dispersed and Gilda helped Colleen carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. “You have a nice place here,” she told Colleen.
“Thanks,” she said, scraping bits of egg and toast off a stack of plates. “It was my mother’s place, but I’ve been running it by myself since she died a couple of years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She was a pill.”
“Do you like this line of work?”
“Like is a strong word, but it pays the bills. What’s your story, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Gilda told Colleen she’d left her fiancé at the altar. She waited for a look of condemnation, but Colleen nodded and said something like better to go with your gut in situations like that. When Colleen asked what Gilda was going to do now, Gilda told her about the napkin ad, and said she thought about calling but was apprehensive. Colleen said to go get the napkin and she could tell Gilda, who placed the ad by looking at the phone number. “You can recognize someone by their phone number?” Gilda said, skeptical. Colleen laughed and said she’d lived in Duluth for sixty-nine years and that if the person who placed the ad was local, she knew who he or she was.
After a quick shower, Gilda found Colleen mending a pair of pants in the sitting room. She handed her the note and Colleen raised her eyebrows. Smiling, she said, “Hm, interesting. Wonder what he’s up to?” When Gilda asked what she meant, she said, “Never mind.” She handed the note back to Gilda and told her it was safe to call the number. “But who is it?” Gilda asked.
“His name is Tom Perry. He’s just scrumptious, honey.”
“Scrumptious?”
“Yes, he’d be a real catch.”
“I’m done with men. I’m only looking for a job and a place to stay until I figure out what to do with the rest of my life.”
“You’re only saying that because you haven’t met Tom yet.”
Gilda used the payphone to dial the number, half wondering if Colleen was off her rocker. No one can recognize a strange phone number that easily, she thought. After a few rings, a woman answered the phone and Gilda laughed to herself, feeling foolish for believing Colleen so easily. “Hello,” Gilda said. “I’m calling about an ad for housekeeping?” The woman sounded confused and asked Gilda to repeat the number she’d dialed back to her. It turned out, Gilda had misdialed, exchanging the last two numbers. She hung up and tried again.
It only took two rings before a man with a quiet, self-assured voice picked up and said hello. She said she was answering an ad for cleaning help, and he introduced himself as Tom. Gilda looked across the room at Colleen, who was checking in a new guest. Colleen winked. Tom said the job paid in room and board, but if Gilda would be willing to do some painting once in a while, he could pay her by the hour for that. “Would five dollars work?” he said. Gilda agreed, and Tom asked her to meet him at Phil’s Diner tomorrow morning at eight AM. He said to bring her suitcase and if the interview went well, she could move in immediately.
Gilda wanted to ask what the suntan part of the ad meant, but she got distracted and forgot. By the time she remembered, Tom had ended the call. That afternoon, she followed Colleen around the house, asking questions about how to run the boarding house. Colleen quipped it wasn’t exactly something to aspire to, but Gilda loved the idea of running something akin to an inn or a hotel. “Oh, I’ll bet you meet the most colorful people!” she said dreamily.
“If by colorful you mean drifters in need of a hot shower and a shave, then yes. Lots of ‘em.”
“I’ll bet they love your landscaping. I saw the pictures of the place in spring hanging in the front room. You have quite a green thumb.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Can’t tell in the middle of a Minnesota winter, though.”
That night, Gilda played checkers with Tony, a retiree who checked in when his wife caught him having dinner with his secretary. The funny thing was, Tony wasn’t being unfaithful, but Donna didn’t believe him. Gilda asked if he thought Donna would ever take him back, but he shook his head and said, “I think she was happy for an excuse to be rid of me. I think she wants someone with hair.” Gilda thought it was just horrible to break up with someone, all because he was balding.
Throughout the evening, people came and went. Some heading out on dates, hopeful and giddy. Some were shuffling in from work. Others moped about as if they’d lost their sense of purpose. She asked Colleen about the woman at the piano who played beautifully, but maintained a stoic expression and never spoke a word out loud. Colleen said that was Kyleen, a woman whose husband died in the war and left her with a stack of debts she couldn’t pay. “Sold the house, the car, even the family dog, but it still isn’t enough,” Colleen said, shaking her head. “Now she plays piano for spare change and sleeps up in the attic. She can’t even afford a regular room, poor thing. She doesn’t socialize much.”
Gilda went to bed, resolving not to end up like Kyleen. She knew she’d been unlucky in love, and was now penniless in her mid-twenties, but she thought surely she had time to turn things around. She’d do her best at the interview the next morning and use the job as a stepping stone toward a better life. Maybe someday I’ll buy a house and rent it out like Colleen, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. A little inn with an eclectic group of stragglers. How lovely, and unordinary.