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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

593 Riverside Drive - 8. Chapter 8

The telephone rang as we were having dessert, and even as we heard Emily going into the hallway to answer, Ella said, “It’s probably Joe. He’ll just be coming home from New Jersey so just found out.”

To confirm that, Emily came into the dining room and told us, “It’s Mr. Spingarn, asking if his wife is here. And if she is, could he speak with her?”

“I don’t want to lie,” Ella replied, “but I don’t want to speak with him alone, either. You know how charming he is. He can talk me out of anything.”

“Would you be comfortable if we were there?” Mama asked. “Or even just me?”

“We’ll leave,” Essie quickly offered, possibly before Herbert could say the same thing.

“You don’t need to hurry,” Ella assured them. “It will take at least a half hour for him to get here – if he even wants to come.”

“You’re welcome to ask him,” Papa said.

“Just let hm know you’d rather not speak with him alone,” Mama added.

Ella nodded and went into the hall. We could hear her speaking, if not distinctly, and it was useless for us to go on talking among ourselves. When she came back, she simply said, “He’s on his way.”

Essie and Herbert left. Mama and I helped Emily clear the dining table, while Papa and Ella took their coffee into the living room. “I doubt Mr. Spingarn will want anything to eat,” Papa told Emily, “but you might have something ready if he asks.” He looked at Ella, but she didn’t know.

Mama and I soon took our coffee to the living room, too, and we were all sitting comfortably when Joe arrived. He nodded at us, went immediately to Ella, and asked, “Are you all right?”

After she said, “Yes,” he looked at us again and asked, “Could we be alone?”

“I told you on the telephone that I’d rather we weren’t,” Ella reminded him.

Joe simply smiled. Then he said, “There’s nothing lost by asking.” And he pulled up the ottoman and sat opposite Ella. “Please explain.”

Ella was quiet for a moment then softly said, “There’s nothing to explain. Nothing you don’t already know.”

“Please come home then,” Joe replied.

Ella said, “You know I can’t.”

“Is this about the chauffeur?” Joe asked.

“No,” Ella said, almost seeming disappointed.

“You know I fired him because he was rude to me – almost insolent.”

“Ray said he was defending me.”

“Then you spoke with him?”

“He had to come back to his room – to get his belongings.”

“He had no right to talk with me about my wife. He had no right talking that way at all.”

“He said he was only pointing out how unhappy I was about Laurette and your father. And how you didn’t seem to notice.”

“That’s not true.”

“Are you sure?”

“What have you been telling him?”

“Ray has eyes. He doesn’t need to be told. And he’s been with you since before our summer in Asbury Park. He drove us on our honeymoon and can easily see the changes in me in the past two years.”

Joe sat silently for a moment. Then he smiled, almost in admittance. “He still had no place talking that. He’s hired help.”

Ella didn’t reply, and Joe seemed to consider.

“What am I going to tell Daughtie and Laurie?” he asked.

Ella hesitated then said calmly, “Laurette probably won’t care, and Laurie’s the reason I haven’t left sooner.”

“Are you speaking seriously?”

“Yes. I haven’t known what to do about him before this afternoon. And I have an offer to make.”

“An offer?” Joe was almost derisive, but Ella just smiled.

“He’s my son, too ,” she went on. “Legally. I’d never step between you, but I don’t want him sent to boarding school like Laurette. You’ve seen what it’s done to her – or you could see if you weren’t so busy.”

“Daughtie is fine.”

“Your father seems fine to you, too. And so do I.”

Joe didn’t respond, and Ella went on.

“I don’t want Laurie sent to boarding school. I’ll come in every morning to wake him, get him ready for school, and walk with him there. He’s ready to go alone, but I know you don’t like that. And I’ll meet him again after school, stay at the apartment through dinner, and make sure he’s done his schoolwork and is ready for bed. Then I’ll leave.”

“To where?”

“Probably my parents. I still have my room there.”

“You don’t want that.”

“No,” Ella said simply. “But I can’t live with Laurette and your father.”

Joe sighed. Then he gently reached for Ella’s hand.

“Please don’t,” she said.

“What happens on weekends?” he asked, retreating. “What will Laurie do then? What about his friends?”

“What about his father?” Ella asked back. “You work on Saturdays and don’t get home till dinner, though the stores close at noon. Sundays, you’re with us anyway, and you can go on with your drives or picnics, or going to the picture shows or the museums.”

“I enjoy doing that.”

Then do it with Laurette and Laurie. Take them places we usually go together. They’ll be fine.”

“They’ll miss you,’ Joe said. “I will.”

Ella said nothing. Joe tried again to take her hand but was stopped by her shaking her head. After a moment, he said, “You’ve thought this all through.”

Ella disagreed, again shaking her head. “There are so many things I haven’t thought out,” she admitted. “In so many ways, I’m terrified that I’m doing something wrong. But I can’t stay there. You, and Laurette, and your father will be fine, but it’s Laurie I’m worried about. He’s needs love and guidance. Laurette had that from Anna until Anna died, and then Laurette simply went wrong. It wasn’t your fault,” she said, as Joe started to object. “You did what you thought best. But it wasn’t.”

Joe just looked at Ella. “Please come home,” he said again.

“I’ll be there in the morning.”

“How will you get there?”

“I still know how to use the bus. And Laurie thinks riding on the subway is an adventure.”

“I’ll have your car brought in from New Jersey.”

“Ray said you were going to sell it.”

“That was before. I’ll make a different arrangement.”

“I don’t need a driver.”

Joe laughed. “I wasn’t going to offer you one. If you want to be a servant, I’ll let you be – until you change your mind. Or maybe you can drive me.”

He stood up and smiled at Ella. “And now I’d like to kiss you – even your hand. But I’ll simply say, ‘Goodnight.’” And he left the room.

Ella quietly watched him go. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that much.” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt him at all.”

Copyright © 2023 RichEisbrouch; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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The hubris of some is the ruination of any relationship.  Such it is with Joe.  He thinks his money has made him better than others.  That he could see Ella as a "servant" because she would drive herself is definitely a red flag for the relationship.

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I'm not entirely sure about that.  As Ella points out, Joe works very hard, and it's not so much that he's purposely ignoring her and his family, it's more that he's focused on his work, as he has been since he was twelve.  No one's ever told him to behave differently.  That's one of the reasons Ethel loves Howard:  he's different.

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