The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 19
ONE NEEDS MONEY TO EAT
Before Annalisa had even bought groceries for her new place, she rang Sharon Maxwell to announce her arrival to Portland and make sure classes were on for that coming Tuesday, the last day of June. When Sharon mentioned the cost of the classes (almost as much as her rent per month), Annalisa nearly choked, but this was why she was here: to excel. She’d rather take classes than eat.
As she’d done back in the Mills, she put one easel in the corner of her bedroom and the other outside. Then, after apologizing to the plant for stealing its hook, she hung her mother’s wind chimes. They instantly broke into their first Portland song.
Overcome with a need to start a new piece—her first in the city—she decided to put off her other errands until the next day and carried her trunk out to the balcony. Thank God she was young, she thought. Dragging it up the stairs had not been easy.
With Van Morrison singing to her from the record player inside, she sat with her canvas pad in one of the two chairs. Knowing her most inspired ideas came in moments of silence, she sat back and breathed in her view. This was her city now. She could see so much more than her little block with the people and the cars rushing by. She could see her dreams coming alive.
Even the dark clouds that had marched in to swallow the blue above didn’t hamper her enthusiasm. In fact, she relished the abutment of colors, those gray shades seeping into the June sky. As she readied her pencil and framed her scene, the sky opened up with water. Protected from the rain by the overhang above, she looked down to the street and saw a businessman dashing past the left-leaning tree and into the phone booth. There was something so incredibly urgent in his movements, and Annalisa reached for her sketch pad and pencil.
“That’s it,” she said to herself. What captured city life better than the urgency that Payton Mills lacked? Once she was satisfied with her sketch, she reached into her trunk for the rest of her supplies and went to work.
Annalisa plugged into the city as much as she could over the next few days, searching for inspiration. She went on long walks to take in all the new sights and sounds. She checked out her first stack of art books from the library. Needless to say, the options in the Portland Library were much more abundant than those back in the Mills. She dipped into all the galleries to get an idea of her competition, and she went back to the museum a few times to remind herself of what she wanted. Of course it never failed that the museum reminded her of Thomas—and even Emma—and she had to almost ruthlessly push away thoughts of them.
Portland, however, lived up to her assertion that the city buzzed with a current of urgency. The quote to fix Walt’s and Thomas’s cars was much more than she’d anticipated, which meant she needed a job immediately. No more walking dizzily through the city without a care in the world. As if her meager bowls of homemade chicken soup for each meal weren’t a constant reminder. Nonna had taught her all about repurposing bones and carcasses and fat in every way she could.
Not having a car, she marched all over the city, looking for jobs. She even revisited the places she’d already dropped résumés. Her initial hope that she might find something in the art world melted away quickly, and by the third day, she was desperate.
On Monday, she decided to spend one more day trying to find something more enjoyable than taking people’s orders and delivering food. Not that she was above being a waiter, it was just that she would have preferred something more in line with her skills as an artist. But as she’d been reminded by the wall of rejections she kept collecting, a lack of a degree meant a lack of choices.
Walking by Pride’s on Congress Street, she decided to try one more time. Pride’s was the fanciest department store in all of Maine—at least of any that she’d seen. She’d first dropped off an application for the fashion illustrator position when she’d come with Nino. Then she’d followed up with several phone calls and a visit the second day after moving in. Fashion illustrators used pen and ink, which was a medium Annalisa felt very comfortable with after first learning in Bangor.
Annalisa strolled with dazzled senses through the cosmetic counters, where girls offered to show her the latest lipsticks and blush and let her take sniffs of the most popular perfumes. How nice to be one of the women in the dressing rooms, trying on the latest styles or having her hair done in the salon.
Fantasies aside, she wasn’t afraid of doing the hard work to get there. Reaching the center of the store, she looked at the escalators teeming with people either riding down to the Bargain Bin in the basement or up to the second floor where they had Men’s Fashions and the Personnel Department.
Feeling like she was starting to wear out the floor of this place, she approached the secretary sitting at a tiny desk at the beginning of a long hallway. Jazz piano music played quietly in the background.
“Hi there, Betty,” Annalisa said. She’d been here so often the two were on a first-name basis. “Is Patty available by chance? I still haven’t heard from her.” As Annalisa had learned, Patty was the manager in charge of the Advertising Department, and also one of the only women who’d climbed to a position of power at Pride’s. People spoke of her like she was a myth.
Betty looked around as if she were in trouble. “Sorry, I specifically gave Patty your résumé, telling her I really liked you, but she said the position’s filled.”
Annalisa felt so let down, instantly thinking that she was beyond qualified. If only she’d worked harder for a scholarship to college—she’d just been so messed up by losing her parents.
“You know what, though,” Betty said, lowering her voice again, as if she was passing on the secrets of the universe, “I hear Mr. Miller is hiring for the Bargain Bin.”
“Oh.” Annalisa thought about it. The Bargain Bin certainly wasn’t the Advertising Department, but it might be better than waiting tables. “Is he around? I’d love to talk to him about it.”
“Let me go see,” she said as she swung out from her desk and disappeared down the hall.
Soon, a man came waltzing Annalisa’s way with a wide duckfooted canter. He combed his thin mustache with his fingers. As awkward as he was, he had the kind of confidence the owner of the building might have. Annalisa thought his yellow-dotted bow tie was absolutely fitting and showed his desperation to find his individuality.
“Hello, Annalisa,” he said, taking her hand. His palm was clammy, and she pulled away as quickly and politely as possible.
“Betty tells me you’re looking to fill the Bargain Bin position,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Miller.” Annalisa had almost corrected him, saying she wanted a job in the Advertising Department, but she chose to be grateful for any opportunity. These first few days in Portland had sent a strong message to the small-town girl from the Mills: You’re not in Kansas anymore.
“You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?” he asked and then made an effort to extract something stuck from his teeth.
Right then and there, Annalisa decided she didn’t like him. How dared he say such a thing? If this hadn’t been her chance to land a real job, she might have punched him in the nose.
Taming the urge, she kept her clenched fist holstered by her side and said kindly, “I don’t have any experience in retail, but I’m a fast learner.” She subtly wiped off his hand sweat on the back of her dress.
“Oh, I bet you are.” He looked at her like he was undressing her with his eyes, all the while aggressively going after the piece of food in his teeth. Though she wasn’t opposed to using her looks to her advantage in getting a job, he made her want to throw up.
“Why don’t you come back and sit down with me?” he asked.
Annalisa almost pivoted and dashed away before even finding out what the available job might entail. Reminding herself of how desperately she needed money, she thanked Mr. Miller and followed him back.
His office smelled of burned coffee, and she eventually noticed the half pot waiting for his consumption on a small table near the window. She put on her best smile and started answering his questions.
Finally, he said, “Yeah, one of my girls quit on me a few weeks back, and we could use you. It’s hard work, you know. A lot of folding and making sure the pricing’s right and taking care of the customers—Pride’s most challenging customers—as you can imagine. Something about good bargains brings out the worst in women. Do you think you can handle it?”
She suspected he had spoken snidely but let it go. “Yes, I think I could.” She slowly patted the air with her hand. “Pardon me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but I thought I might mention that I’m also interested in a job in the Advertising Department. I know the fashion illustrator position was filled, but if there’s anything else—”
“An artist, huh?” He seemed overly interested, possibly being sarcastic. “What kind of art do you make?”
“I’m a painter mostly, but I studied pen and ink in school, so I could draw ads. I’m a hard worker, Mr. Miller. I could bring in some examples to give you—or Patty—an idea of what I can do. I’m creative in general and might be of use to the team.”
His jaw flopped up and down as he faked a laugh. “Aren’t you cute? This isn’t home ec class, sweetie. What are you? Eighteen? No offense, but you’ll fit right in down there in the basement. You’ll get along great with the girls.”
She was a minute away from peeling the skin off his face, but she bit her lip and muttered, “I’d love anything you have available.”
He clapped his clammy hands together. “The Bargain Basement it is.”
Not letting the demeanor of her new boss get her down, Annalisa nearly flew down the escalator. A step in the right direction was always worth celebrating.