Sorrento Girl Read online

  Ann had done her homework regarding Paul. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d agree to a date without due diligence. So far, she knew he was both funny and kind, and he drove a red Plymouth. He was from Tacoma, had played football in high school, had a lot of friends, was a good dancer, and he was an excellent editor. He produced a paper that students loved to read and had received several awards. He was also undeniably handsome. Ann was anxious to know more.

  It was lunchtime on a Tuesday. Ann was reading the week’s paper at her desk and drinking a Coke when Paul came over to say hello, pulling up a chair beside her. “Did you get back to your room okay on Saturday? No angry chaperone in the hall?”

  Ann grinned. “We made it. Ms. Patrick is none the wiser.”

  “Good to hear.” He wiped his brow and winked. “Hey, we want to include a weekly column with three or four thumbnail biographies of various students around campus, two hundred words, tops. Think you’d like to take it on?”

  “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you!” She was excited about the opportunity. “Do you want me to start right away?”

  “Sure thing.” Paul stood and pushed his chair aside. “All right then, I’ll see you around. I’m excited about our dinner on Saturday.”

  ***

  On Friday night, Ann washed her hair and asked Helen if she could put her hair in pin curls. She was planning on wearing her hair in a finger wave the next day, a hairstyle she’d yet to master on her own.

  “I’d love to help you with your hair.” Helen grabbed the box of pins from the top of Ann’s dresser. “What dress are you wearing tomorrow?”

  Ann considered her wardrobe. “Do you think it would be all right if I wore the emerald silk again?”

  “Of course! You are beautiful in that dress.”

  “It’s not too formal? I don’t want to presume anything. What if Paul takes me somewhere casual? I’ll be overdressed.”

  “Honey, Paul Lewis isn’t taking you to some ‘greasy spoon.’ You’ll be fine,” Helen said with a laugh. She’d been on a few dates in the past weeks, though none of the boys had been exciting enough to hold her interest. However, because she had more experience with dating, Ann valued any advice Helen could give concerning romance.

  Earlier that evening, and for the first time since she’d come to Seattle, Ann had finally been able to call her father. They’d agreed to a monthly long-distance phone call before Ann had left Wenatchee. She had been feeling homesick, and the sound of his voice had lifted her spirits.

  One phone, located off the lobby, was shared by all students and guests staying at the Sorrento. After waiting for what seemed an eternity on their scheduled night to talk, Ann was able to secure the line and get through to him. Ann had done most of the talking, telling him about the Sorrento, the Black and Tan, her classes, and her upcoming date.

  Every once in a while her father responded with a few words. “Uh-huh. Good, good.” He wasn’t much for conversation, but he loved her, and it felt good to connect with him. “The apple crop is good this year. We got them all picked just in time. Seems like we could have snow tonight.” He paused. “Okay then, it was nice to talk to you. It’s really quiet here at home without you. We’ll talk again soon. Good night.”

  Ann loved her father, but she was sure thankful to have Helen, Nora, and Peggy around for conversation. They liked to talk as much as she did. When the four of them were together, which was often, the chatter was nonstop. It was a significant change from what Ann had been accustomed to, living alone with her father at home. They’d enjoyed a calm companionship together over the years. Was he lonely without her?

  ***

  The lobby of the Sorrento was in a flurry of activity on Saturday night, as usual. From the adjacent Fireside Room, one could hear live piano music. People came and went at such a pace that the front door was never really shut. A cold breeze whooshed through the room every few seconds. It was a young crowd, and college students filled the space. Some women waited for their dates to arrive, others gathered with friends, finalizing plans for an evening out and organizing transportation. Ann was among those who were waiting.

  Paul arrived promptly at seven, looking like he had no intention of taking Ann anywhere but the most elegant restaurant in town. He smiled as if he were the luckiest man in the room when he saw Ann standing near the elevator.

  “Good evening, Paul,” she said, approaching him.

  “Ann, how are you? You’re lovely.” His approving gaze relayed more than his words. “Shall we go?” Paul escorted Ann out the front door and to his waiting car, then opened the passenger side door for her. “We’re going to the Terrace dining room at the Mayflower Park Hotel.” He glanced inside the vehicle as Ann settled into her seat. “Are you comfortable?”

  “I am, thank you. I’m looking forward to dinner.” Being in the car together was the first time Ann and Paul had ever been alone. Ann felt shy and nervous, and her heart was racing, but she was also delighted to be there. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  The Mayflower Park Hotel was on Fourth and Olive, not far from Hotel Sorrento. Paul parked the car on the street and walked around to open the door for Ann.

  She stared up at the tall building. It was much bigger than the Sorrento. She felt like a princess as she walked into the beautiful lobby on Paul’s arm.

  The staff greeted Paul by name and led the couple to a small round table near the window. The darkened room was lit by soft glowing lamps in the center of each table. A tuxedo-clad waiter handed each of them their menus before asking what they would like to drink. Paul ordered martinis for both of them. After the waiter left, Paul regarded Ann and smiled. She loved that smile.

  In the corner of the room was a small stage with a piano and a microphone. A woman in an evening gown sang a slow, sad, jazz song, accompanied by a man at the piano. Ann and Paul studied their menus. Steak for Paul and salmon for Ann. Relaxing, finally, Ann sat back in her chair and peered out onto the street below.

  “So, Ann, I never asked you what first brought you to Seattle College?” Paul asked, drawing her attention.

  “My aunt Rose lives here in Seattle. She suggested attending the school and helped me apply.” Ann didn’t know how much she should reveal, so she kept it simple. “What about you?”

  “My parents live in Tacoma, but I went to high school at Seattle Prep and lived with my grandmother during that time. Seattle College just felt like the natural next step. My grandmother wasn’t too keen on my decision to major in journalism. She wanted me to be a priest, but she came around, eventually.”

  A priest? “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Ann asked.

  “No, I’m the only one. How about you?”

  “I’m the only one too. It has always been just my father and myself. My mother died when I was young, and my father never remarried. My aunt Rose has been like a mother to me, though.”

  Paul seemed focused on Ann and interested in everything she shared about herself. “What was it like growing up in Wenatchee?”

  “The town is a great place to live—lots of orchards, much smaller than Seattle and a lot less rain.”

  Her date was easy to talk to, so Ann decided to be candid. She told him everything about being an orchard foreman’s daughter, about floating down the Wenatchee River on hot summer days, her first trip to Seattle to see Amelia Earhart, and why she wanted to be a teacher.

  Paul was equally honest with Ann. His father was a real estate investor who had suffered some significant losses over the past years. It had been hard on the family. Living with his grandmother in Seattle during his high school years had been Paul’s reprieve from a home filled with strife.

  They talked through dinner, dessert, and long after that. All too soon it was time to leave. Ann couldn’t miss her curfew.

  A short time later, Paul walked Ann to the door at the Sorrento. His warm, strong hand grasped hers, and he gazed into her eyes.

  Ann stopped breathing for a moment, but her heart raced
on ahead.

  Smiling, he squeezed her hand gently. “Ann, would you do me the honor? Could I call on you again?”

  Seven

  November first was the day Ann would get to find out where she was assigned for her math teaching practicum. Finally. Her classes were interesting, but she was excited to get some experience teaching in the classroom.

  She walked to class with Helen that morning. The sidewalks were icy, and the two of them stepped gingerly, holding on to each other, trying not to slip.

  “What grade did you request?” asked Helen.

  “I asked for anything from fifth to eighth grade.” Ann shivered as the cold wind penetrated her coat. “I’m getting experience with younger children already when I watch the Delzer kids, so I thought it would be good to get some experience with the older ones.”

  “I’m hoping I get a kindergarten class.. They’re so cute,” said Helen.

  As the two women walked along in quiet companionship, Ann’s thoughts went back to her own time in fifth grade.

  Her fifth-grade teacher, Miss Roberts, was the reason Ann had decided to become an elementary teacher. She was the first teacher in Ann’s life who’d challenged her. Miss Roberts was strict and deeply knowledgeable about a wide range of subjects. Ann admired her, thinking Miss Roberts was the smartest person she’d ever met, other than her Aunt Rose, of course. Miss Roberts’s assignments were hard, but Ann had wanted to please her teacher, so she’d worked more diligently than ever before in school, and in the process, proven to herself how much she was capable of doing.

  Before Miss Roberts, Ann had found school easy and boring. She didn’t feel like much was expected of her because she was a girl. That all changed in fifth grade. Miss Roberts had always treated the boys and girls the same. Her expectations were high for everyone.

  When Miss Roberts presented Ann with an “outstanding scholar” award in front of the whole school, Ann had never been more proud in her entire life. That day, Ann learned a truth that changed everything for her. Ann realized she was smart. She knew this deep in the heart of her soul—and it wasn’t something that made her prideful. No, it was just a matter-of-fact thing she understood about herself. Since then, she had carried within her a quiet confidence that she could achieve whatever she wanted in life—if she set her mind to it and worked hard. She aimed to help other children find that same confidence in themselves. That’s why she wanted to be a teacher.

  Helen and Ann reached their building and hurried inside. They were freezing, but they had both made it to their class without slipping on the ice.

  At 8:00 a.m., their teacher, Ms. Danson, began. “The practicum is for those interested in going into teaching. The idea is to get a taste of what it’s like before you commit to this field of study. You will be responsible for creating and teaching a unit plan for your assigned class throughout two weeks.” The teacher walked up and down the rows. “You will need to meet with the classroom teacher and submit your unit plan for approval by next Friday. Each of you will spend ten classroom hours at your school teaching your math unit. This is after you have first spent ten hours observing the class during math instructional time.” She paused to emphasize her next point. “Additionally, you will be responsible for correcting assignments and grading quizzes and tests within your unit plan. Your grade for this practicum is based on the teacher’s evaluation of how well you taught the unit plan.”

  As Ms. Danson finished, she began passing out slips of paper to each student with their assigned class information. Helen was placed in a first-grade classroom at Seattle Day School.

  “You’ll be teaching at the school the Delzer children attend,” Ann said.

  Helen grinned. “What class were you assigned to?”

  “Eighth grade at Seattle Prep. It should be fun.” What Ann didn’t admit was that she was also a little nervous. Seattle Prep was a private, all-boys school associated with Seattle College. She had no idea what to expect.

  It wasn’t easy juggling everything required for school. Ann needed to meet with Mr. Ferguson, her assigned classroom teacher at Seattle Prep. Of course, he could only be reached after school, since he was busy teaching during the day. But Ann had an after-school job at the Delzer household, so this presented a problem.

  Ann loved working for the Delzer family. Mrs. Delzer treated her like a younger sister and companion more than an employee. Her duties were light—pick up the older children from school and walk home with them, help them with homework, and help prepare dinner. Usually, the two women worked side by side. Ann always arrived back at the Sorrento in time for the evening meal. She was grateful for the job and enjoyed being with the young family.

  She’d walk over to the Delzer home today during her lunch hour and request the afternoon off. If Mrs. Delzer approved, Ann would visit Seattle Prep after school and meet with Mr. Ferguson.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Ann rode the streetcar over to Seattle Prep. She arrived just as school was ending. The hallways were bustling with activity and intense boyish excitement as a crowd of students was leaving for the day. Most of these boys were bigger than she was— and not much younger. She took a deep breath, pulled herself up as tall as she could, and did her best to appear the part of a professional rather than the young schoolgirl she still felt like.

  She found the main office and was soon being led by a stern and stout secretary toward Mr. Ferguson’s room. The teacher was seated at his desk, grading papers, when the secretary introduced Ann. “Mr. Ferguson, this is Miss Brooks, your new student teacher from Seattle College.”

  Mr. Ferguson raised one eyebrow, then stood and gestured toward a vacant chair in front of his desk. “Miss Brooks, please—come in and sit down.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to help me, Mr. Ferguson,” Ann said, attempting to sit gracefully in the chair.

  A tall, thin, elderly gentleman, Mr. Ferguson wore round wire-rimmed glasses that gave him an owlish appearance. The blackboard behind him was covered with complex equations written in chalk, and his messy desk was piled high with books and papers. Empty student desks were lined up in neat rows. A flag, a clock, and a wall of windows opening out onto a grass field were the only adornments in this dedicated place of learning. Ann knew, right away, that she was going to like Mr. Ferguson.

  The teacher moved a stack of papers to the side of his desk. “Can you teach a two-week unit on percentages and fractions?”

  Ann smiled with confidence. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Can you be here from eight to nine each morning?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Uh, huh…okay. Well then, be here tomorrow at eight for your observation, and then you can teach your unit in two weeks.”

  Ann nodded. “Yes, sir.” She was grateful there would be time to prepare.

  “Any questions?”

  “No, sir, I’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  “Very well. I’ll see you then.” Mr. Ferguson stood, offering a handshake. The meeting was over, and he smiled for the first time. He reminded Ann of her father. She didn’t want to let him down.

  ***

  The phone in the hallway at the Sorrento wasn’t in use when Ann walked by that evening, a rare occurrence, so she decided to take advantage of the opportunity and make a call. “Aunt Rose! How are you?”

  “Ann! Thank you for calling, dear. I’m doing all right.” A note of sadness filtered into Rose’s voice.

  “You’re missing your job?” Of course, she was—teaching meant everything to her aunt. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I am. Gary is wonderful, and I love married life. No regrets there. I’m not complaining, but yes, I do miss teaching—very much. It isn’t right, what happened. I appreciate you and all the other people who have stood up and spoken out against the school’s decision. There’s a student protest on Saturday at UW. There have been several other women, like me, who’ve lost their jobs recently. I have some hope that things could change, but I also understand wh
at led us here. These are hard times we’re living in.” Rose paused. “We should have you over to dinner soon,” she said, switching topics. “I need to hear all about school and what you’ve been up to.”

  “I would like that—thank you! I’ll be at the protest on Saturday. I wouldn’t miss it.” Ann twisted the phone cord around her finger. Should she bring up the other thing on her mind? “By the way, I met someone at the dance. We went on a date last weekend. I like him, but I don’t know if it will go anywhere—or if I even want it to.”

  To Ann, it seemed absurd to think about anything serious with Paul. Dating for fun was all she wanted at the moment. And who am I to say that it isn’t what Paul wants too? She was here for school, and she was here to become a teacher—and she didn’t want anything else to get in the way of that.

  “I understand, darling.” Rose’s empathetic tone confirmed that she could relate to Ann’s situation. “Tell me everything when you come to dinner. How about this Friday?”

  ***

  Dinner was always something to anticipate at the Sorrento. Ann enjoyed the sweeping views of Elliot Bay from the dining room up high on the top floor. From there, she could see the city spread below, and in the distance beyond, the majestic Olympic Mountains—at least on cloudless days.

  Now that it was getting dark by dinner time, the picture outside had changed to twinkling city lights—a beautiful sight. The food was good, but she especially appreciated that she didn’t have to shop, cook, or clean up afterward. Tonight, the chef was serving meatloaf, potatoes, and Jell-O salad. Ann never had to dine alone, either, as she had done so often at home when her father was working late. Now, she usually had dinner with Helen, Nora, and Peggy—as she was doing tonight.

  “Did you get to meet with your mentor teacher today?” asked Helen as she picked up her fork.

  “Yes, I did. He was quiet, but I liked him. He reminded me of my father. I’ll go back tomorrow and observe.” Ann draped a napkin across her lap. “I never imagined that I’d be teaching an all-boys class. It should be interesting.”