The Coach House Read Free

the Jeffersons took her in.
    During the weeks preceding her mother’s death, Marie was excited about the prospect of going to college. Now she felt alone and confused about what the future might hold for her. While not the same as coming from a parent, the Jeffersons gave her encouragement and support, and it was sufficient enough for Marie to accept what had happened and go on.
    Life with Flora and Fred wasn’t anything like living with her mother, who was just thirty-seven when she died. Her mother had been full of energy and life. The Jeffersons were in their seventies, did little physical activity, and took care of one another. After moving in with them, it didn’t take long for Marie to accept the role of semi-caregiver when they needed help. In some ways, it was a relief for Marie to have responsibilities that took her mind off her mother’s death, even if just for short periods at a time.
    Toward the end of Marie’s junior year in high school, she received a call from the National Bank of Chicago that a college fund had been established for her. She questioned the Jeffersons about it. They claimed to know nothing.
    “I can’t believe this is happening, Flora. Mom told me right before she died that I would be going to college, but to be honest, I didn’t believe it. There’s no way she could have afforded it.”
    “I don’t know, dear. Did the bank say anything about that when you talked with them?”
    “I asked the man who called where it came from, but he said that information was confidential. I don’t know what to think.”
    “Well, I would just accept it if I were you. After all, how many young women have the opportunity to go to college?”
    “But I don’t know where to go or even what to study.”
    “You’ll figure it out, Marie. Talk to your teachers. Pick out something you love to do.”
    Fred entered the room during their discussion. “That shouldn’t be hard,” he added. “Look around here. Marie’s been here less than six months and her touch is everywhere. Place never looked so good.” Marie had replaced the kitchen curtains with ones she made out of some fabric her mother had left over from a sewing project. She also rearranged their living room furniture and made throw pillows for the sofa. With the Jeffersons’ blessing, she painted the walls of her bedroom pale yellow and hung two cheery pictures from her old bedroom above the bed.
    The thought of leaving the Jeffersons, the only semblance of a family she had, was daunting. But the thought of missing out on a college education was even more upsetting, so Marie took Fred and Flora’s advice to heart and enrolled in New York’s Parsons School of Design so she could become an interior designer. After graduating in the Class of 1945, wanting to leave the frenetic atmosphere of New York City, Marie came back to Chicago where she settled on a junior level position at Marshall Field’s dressing its massive windows and in-store displays.
    Just three months after she started at Field’s, she met Richard, the man in the black Fedora who had enticed her out of the display window. She immediately had had second thoughts about him. It was unlike her to be so bold with a man, especially a complete stranger, and when she had met him that first day, his look had been so intense as he watched her walk toward him, it made her even more uneasy.
    “What do you say we discuss your dilemma with the mannequin over a cup of coffee,” he had suggested through a boyish grin. “I’m sure we can figure it out between the two of us.”
    After introductions, they proceeded to the tearoom on the lower level of the store. They made small talk while they walked through the massive ornate columns that supported the twenty-foot-high ceilings and then stood under the masterful mosaic tiled nine-story domed ceiling waiting for the elevator.
    The smell of freshly brewed coffee and hot spiced-apple pie greeted them as they emerged from the elevator. Richard