All for a Song Read Online Free Page A

too. “Of course not. By the way, I know my brother has the number here, should he ever need to call. You’d tell me if he did?”
    “Child, I’d keep the line open and run for you myself.”
    “Thanks.”
    In a move so sneaky she almost missed it, Jessup slid a Clark Bar across the counter and whispered, “For the walk home.”
    She smiled a thanks so as not to call attention to the gift and turned her eyes toward the row of closed louvered doors. Intermittent conversation seeped through, punctuated with laughter and a few incredulous shouts. When a door finally opened, Mrs. Philbin—a middle-aged, pear-shaped woman—came out. No doubt she had spent the last ten minutes speaking with her worthless son who’d just been arrested for running moonshine in Virginia, as she kept her eyes downcast in a failing effort to hide her tears. From the corner of her eye, Dorothy Lynn noticed that Mrs. Philbin got a candy bar too.
    Once inside, she pulled the door shut, sat on the narrow bench, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light provided only by the two-foot space between the top of the door and the ceiling. Lifting the earpiece, she tapped the receiver and said, “Long distance, please. St. Louis,” to the familiar voice of Mrs. Tully, one of Heron’s Nest’s three switchboard operators.
    “Long distance. St. Louis,” Mrs. Tully repeated. “How are you doin’, Miss Dorothy Lynn?”
    “Just fine.” But before she could say more, the line clicked, then hummed, and another woman’s voice came on.
    “Number, please?”
    “St. Louis, four-two-one-five.”
    “Four-two-one-five, connecting.”
    Another click, another hum, then a ring, and a young woman’s voice with the inevitable sound of screaming children in the background.
    “Darlene!”
    What followed was a muffled sound as Roy, Darlene’s slight, eager husband, received his orders to round up the boys and take them to the kitchen before Darlene’s attention fully returned.
    “It’s early,” Darlene said against a new background of only slightly fuzzy silence.
    “It’s past one.”
    “We usually talk at two. We haven’t sat down to dinner here yet.”
    Dorothy Lynn held the candy bar to her mouth, gripped the wrapper in her teeth, and tore it open. “I couldn’t wait to tell you.” She spat out the scrap of wrapper. “We announced the engagement this morning.”
    “To the handsome young minister? He proposed three weeks ago.” Darlene, as always, seemed up for a scandal.
    Dorothy Lynn rolled her eyes as she took the first bite of the crispy, chocolate-covered candy. Were this any day other than a busy Sunday, Mrs. Tully would no doubt be lingering on the line.
    “We wanted—I wanted—to be sure, before we made it official. First to each other, then to our families, then the church.”
    “And you’re sure?”
    “Of course.”
    “Of course.” Darlene’s mimicry sounded accusatory. “Why didn’t you spend the afternoon with your beau and let Ma call?” She could tell Darlene was battling between suspicion and concern.
    “I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Why? It can’t be a problem with the man himself. He’s handsome as anything and tall and well-mannered. Just like Pa in every way.”
    Dorothy Lynn had only the blank, dark wall of the telephone booth to stare at, but she could clearly picture her older sister, plump in her third pregnancy, sitting at the ornate telephone table nestled in the nook under her stairs. Right then, she knew, both sisters were leaning in, drawing closer to the flared tube that carried their voices, as if doing so could bring them closer to each other. She took another bite of the Clark Bar and spoke through her chewing.
    “Getting married to him means I’m never going to leave this town.”
    “Where were you planning to go?”
    “I don’t know. Nowhere, I guess. I just thought . . . You got to move up to St. Louis, and who knows where Donny is. He’s probably been all over the world by now.