you work here might draw some more teenagers.”
Hildemara didn’t want to tell her not to get her hopes up.
On the long walk home, Hildie felt flushed with success. She relished her secret as she raced through her chores.
Hildie set the table and sat down to dinner, eager to make her announcement, but everyone else had plenty to say. Bernie said he was late because he’d walked Elizabeth Kenney home and her mother invited him in for cookies and milk. Clotilde asked Mama if she could have a dollar to buy some fabric. Rikka stared off into space, undoubtedly thinking about some new drawing she wanted to do, until Mama told her to get busy and eat.
Dinner was almost over before there was enough lull in the conversation for Hildie to make her announcement. “I have a job.”
Papa’s head came up. “A job?”
“I start work tomorrow after school at the soda fountain inside Pitt’s Drug Store.”
Mama smiled slightly. “Is that so?”
Papa wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t like the idea. You have your studies, and what about Mama? She needs your help around the house.”
“I do not.” Mama tossed her napkin on the table. “And if I did, I have two other daughters who can pitch in.”
Clotilde squinted a look at Hildemara. “Thanks.” Rikka went on eating, her mind still off in the wild blue yonder.
Papa frowned at Mama. “Did you know about this?”
She stood up and started clearing dishes. “It had to happen sooner or later, didn’t it? Children don’t live off their parents forever. Or shouldn’t.”
“How come I’m going to have to work and Bernie doesn’t?” Clotilde griped.
Bernie put his fork down. “We can trade anytime you want. I’ll feed the chickens and set the table. You can help Papa with the plowing and planting and harvesting.”
“I work! I made that shirt you’re wearing!”
Papa slammed his fist on the table. “Enough!” Mama’s mouth twitched into a smile that smoothed out when Papa looked down the table at her. “Did you know Hildemara was looking for a job?”
“I told her she’d better.”
“Why?”
“Ask her. She can speak for herself.” She gave Hildie a cool look, brows raised in challenge. “Can’t you?” It didn’t sound like a question.
Papa stared at Hildemara. “Well?”
She took a deep breath, hoping to slow her racing heart, and laid out her plans for the future. When she finished, everyone sat staring at her.
Papa broke the silence. “Oh. Well. Why didn’t you say so?”
“Since you’re not working yet, you can help clear the table, Hildemara.” Mama didn’t say anything else until she handed her the last dish to dry. “When do you plan to study? You’ll have to keep your grades up.”
“Between classes. During lunch break. I’ll only work until six.”
“You’ll have to warm up your dinner when you get home.”
“I’ll manage.” She had hoped Mama might say she’d miss having her around the house. She should have known better.
“It might be good to start a savings account at the bank, just so you don’t squander your earnings.”
“I planned to do that with my first paycheck.”
“Good.” Mama left Hildemara to finish the cleanup and went outside to sit on the porch swing.
Papa said the Depression wouldn’t last forever, but hard times brought more traveling salesmen to the door. Farmers fared better than most. They knew how to grow their own food. Even with the price of almonds and raisins down, Papa and Mama didn’t worry about putting food on the table. Papa had enough money for the mortgage and taxes. “If we run short, I can find work,” Mama told him. “Mr. Smith offered me a job at his bakery.”
“You aren’t going to work for him, are you?”
“He swears he had nothing to do with the Herkners’ bakery burning down.”
“And you believe him.”
“You’re the one who always tells me not to judge people, Niclas.”
“There’s judging, and there’s discerning.”
Mama sighed. “I said no, but if we need money, I know where to get work.”
“Start baking more here. Take your
Mama chuckled. “If you want
When others went to the movies, Hildemara worked. She met more students while working behind the soda fountain counter than she had during eight and a half years of school in Murietta. When the movies let out, the kids came across the street for sodas and sat in booths talking. Some of the adults left her five-cent tips.
She liked working. She liked the bustle and buzz of teenagers in and out of the drug store. She liked earning money, knowing every day she worked brought her closer to her goal. She took orders, made milk shakes and floats, washed glasses, cleaned counters, all the while dreaming of the day she would wear a white uniform and cap and walk the corridors of a hospital, bringing comfort to the sick. Maybe someday, she’d go to China and serve in a mission hospital, or tend sick babies in the Belgian Congo, or help a handsome, dedicated doctor stop an epidemic in India.
Mrs. King came in with a list from Dr. Whiting. While she waited for Mr. Pitt to fill the drug order, she sat at the counter and ordered a Coca-Cola. Hildemara told her she hoped to attend the nurses’ training program at Merritt Hospital in Oakland. “That’s wonderful, Hildemara! When you’re closer to graduation, I’ll write a letter of recommendation for you.”
The first year of high school passed in a blur of study and work. When Summer Bedlam rolled around again, Hildie asked Mama if she could do without her. Of course Mama said yes. Hildemara took on a second job at the Fulsomes’ chicken farm, plucking birds for market. Paid by the bird, Hildie learned to work fast.
She hoarded every dime and nickel, knowing exactly how much she had to save in order to pay for tuition and uniform fees. She would also need the tools of her trade: a pocket watch with a second hand to count heartbeats and a fountain pen to write vitals on patient charts. Mama and Papa had already made plans to send Bernie to college when he graduated at the end of the next school year. Every extra dollar would go toward getting him through school.
Hildie had seen Papa hand Bernie a dollar more than once so her brother could take Elizabeth to a movie on Friday night. “He’s young. He needs to have a little fun.”
Mama saw, too, and protested. “And what about the girls? They’re young. They want to have fun. Are you going to hand them a dollar every time they ask?”
Hildemara covered her ears with the heels of her hands. She hated to hear her parents argue over money. She swore she would never ask them for a dime. She would earn her own way.
27
1932
