A Secret in Ash Brooke

A Secret in Ash Brooke (15) Chapter Fifteen

A Secret In Ash Brooke

Chapter Fifteen – Martin and Clara at Curt’s Under Corner

The lights in the backstage area went dark, and the stage door burst open. Clara backed out, holding the door with open with her rump, digging in her purse. Finding the keys, she turned and locked the door; then glanced around, hoping Martin waited for her.

“I’m so glad you waited, I so looked forward to continuing our conversation. Oh, here are some leads for you too.”

While Clara was digging around in her overstuffed, over-cluttered purse to find them, Martin offered her an invitation.

“I discovered this little late night pie shop up the street...”

“Curt’s Under Corner, I love his place.”

Clara began marching briskly in Curt’s direction. Martin gulped.

What am I getting myself into?

“Here are the leads I promised, I’ll tell you about them inside where it’s warm.”

Curt’s was packed when they arrived. However, the crowd thinned fast, and by the time they were seated, only a few were still talking. An older lady, wearing a checkered apron, approached the table. She rattled off a list of pies and desserts from memory.

“We do not allow drinking in here. So if you brought a bottle, take it down the street.”

Martin was startled by her tone. Clara glanced up at her.

“Patricia, don’t you ever get tired of saying that? Sounds like you’re trying to run the customers off.”

“Only when I spot a new face, sorry, didn’t recognize your friend here. What’ll you have?”

“I’ll take an apple pie with a slice of cheese on top, heated please.”

“Sound delicious Clara. I’ll order the same.”

Patricia hurried to the kitchen to get the desserts. Two customers from the theater stood, being obnoxious about going down the block to whet their whistles. One patted his pockets to make sure he was well supplied for the night.

“Sorry I was so late getting out tonight. I work for the theater, and one of my jobs is to lock up the back every other Friday.”

“Where is the caretaker? Doesn’t he usually handle such things.”

“He does, but his wife is ill. If he is not the last out of the building, after he locks up the front and side, we do not detain him.”

“Sorry she is not well. I hope she soon recovers from her illness.”

“She’s not likely to Martin. The doctors did not expect her to live this long. Here, take a gander at these leads, I have a couple I need to make clear before Curt closes.”

Martin pulled the notes from his jacket pocket and handed them back to Clara. She shuffled through each, and as she began to explain the first one, Curt brought the pies to their table.

“Did Pat forget your drinks?”

“You know Patricia, no drinking or get out.”

“I’m so glad you decided to visit my fine establishment Mr. Hurston. It gets a little crazy in here right after the show. Saw you come in. Glad Pat didn’t run you off. Enjoy your pies.”

Clara dug right in, stopped when the pie touched her tongue, and began blowing on the bite on her fork. She glanced over at Martin with a grin.

“For some reason, they always bake them way too hot.”

“Never met a baker who could cook in a cold oven Clara.”

She took the now cool bite, set her fork down, and picked up her notes. Martin’s eyebrow raised as she explained them to him.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you had some juicy stuff. Don’t think J.B. will go for publishing this.”

“Oh, you can word it any way you want Martin. Helps to know the whole story; dad would always say.”

“Before I forget again, I’m curious about a particular car, the Saxon Roadster.”

“Long story behind that deal Martin. Rosie won the amateur show, brought the house to their feet she did. A fifteen minute standing ovation.”

“So she won a prize?”

“Oh. What? No, not a prize, the car came later. After winning the contest, and returning for several guest appearances, the theater hired her to sing. She only did so after the skits, right before the play starts.”

“About the car?”

“Right, coming up. After Mr. Stoddard bought the theater, he added the Candy Girls Cabaret as the opening number. A small dance troupe, consisting of a few female performers from the vaudeville routines. We were a disaster.”

“The show is splendid, most impressive Clara.”

“It is now, but wasn’t always. Wilton changed the routine to a simple chorus line, which helped. After he started the amateur show, winning females were asked to join the chorus line.”

“Ahem, about the Saxon.”

“I’m getting to the car. Some of the girls were really good, and added more interesting choreography to the routine. This began drawing customers to the theater earlier. Wilton hired a professional to work with us and develop the routines you are familiar with.”

“The car Clara, the car. I want to learn about the Saxon Rosie drives.”

“OK, OK, the car. Wilton wanted to add Rosie to the chorus line, but she would not have anything at all to do with such vulgarity; as she put it. Wilton finally convinced her she didn’t need to appear in the chorus line itself.”

“Wait, are you saying Rosie is not in the chorus line? Not a part of the routine?”

“That’s right, she just sings her solo on the center platform, mid-point during the choreographed routine. She cannot arrive at the theater early enough, because she works a real job, part of the war effort.”

“Most interesting Clara, we will talk more about this later. Are you getting to the car yet?”

“Yes. About the car. Mr. Stoddard offered Rosie a new car, so she could get here faster. She was still too late for an earlier number, so he set her first solo to near the end of the opening number. Right where she sings every Friday night now.”

Curt turned off half the lights and announced from behind the counter.

“Hey you two, it’s long past closing time.”

“Sorry Curt, we’re on our way.”

Clara hopped right up, reached back and grabbed the last bite of her pie. She mumbled something with her mouth full as we left the shop.

She never stopped talking about her notes on the short walk with Martin back to her car. After she handed the notes back to him, he folded and slipped them in his pocket. The way Clara fumbled around in her purse for keys, always amused him.

Tonight she pulled out of the parking lot on Klein Avenue and took it to The Boulevard. Martin lived in Ash Brooke his entire life, and never heard the highway referred to by any other name. Truckers referenced the state road by a number.

Martin was home getting ready for bed, when he realized he still did not learn why Clara bought the car. Although he finally learned why Rosie was the driver.

What did Clara say about Rosie having a real job. One that made it hard for her to arrive at the theater in time for a mid-chorus line solo? I’ll have to sleep on that new bit of info.

To Be Continued with (16)