The Housekeeper’s Lover
Abbot Bailey had never noticed the eyes of Greta, the housemaid, before. But the mattresses in Henry Howe Hall were no lawns of feather, so he had bet Hank Williams five glasses of beer that for just this once the university would come across with a new mattress.
Greta certainly hadn’t been chosen at random for her job as caretaker of rooms in a residence strictly for men. She was plain enough to walk through a corridor without interrupting a mathematical problem. She was old enough to pass as ancient — even in the eyes of the upperclassmen. In other words, she looked like a white uniform with good cleaning instincts.
“They must be blue,” decided Abbot as he watched Greta pounding the under-stuffed pillow into false promises of comfort.
“Greta,” he interrupted.
“Yes, Mr. Abbot.” Greta turned about, dangling her scrawny charge in her over-sized right hand, her small near-sighted eyes squinting more hopelessly in the sight of the sun shining through the window.
“Yes,” she repeated.
Giving up the struggle of trying to peer into her almost closed eyes, Abbot assumed a tender expression and lied, “Greta, do you know that you have lovely blue eyes?”
Greta’s eyes did a complete eclipse as her face screwed up in amazement. She smiled immediately after exposing teeth crowded into dissymmetry. “For land’s sake, Mr. Bailey, she exclaimed. “You boys certainly are the ones! My eyes happen to be brown.”
Abbot remained calm by explaining, “Well you see my grandfather was color-blind, so according to the law of heredity I’m a victim of circumstances like this. But anyway they’re still pretty eyes. They have that mysterious Oriental shape that you read so much about.
Greta appeared unconvinced, saying, “Nobody ever told me that before. Maybe it’s just as well. Don’t know whether I like it or not.”
This early defeat did not discourage Abbot in his next meetings with Greta. A flowery compliment to her mud-colored hair was met with laughter, but Abbot detected an under-gurgle of pleasure. In no time he was winning her confidence by whacking the resistant pillow around. He started using the waste basket for scraps of papers. He asked Greta’s advice about his ties, and even read her a poem written in a misused moment of despair. After that the mattress was his, and Hank Williams had to fork over those beers.
But Abbot hadn’t bargained for the new rug he discovered hugging his floor, nor the pink curtains draping the windows. He objected strenuously when fresh flowers were left in his vase each day. But he was downright scared after Greta had blushingly presented him with a hand-knitted scarf.
“Listen Hank,” he complained later to his amused friend. “You helped get me into this. Now see what you can do about getting me out of it. Great Gods, she’s fallen for me. I can tell it every time. She looks at me with those half-moon eyes, and it makes the hair stand on top of my head and she hovers about my room as if I were the dean of something. If the office finds out there’ll be blazes to pay. Why she’s even taken to washing my socks. And last night was the payoff. She dragged her brother up to meet me, a big burly looking guy. That wasn’t bad enough, but he asks me if I don’t think Greta is a swell person. Naturally I fell right in with his opinion. But I didn’t feel so hot when he said that he’d just like to see anyone try to hurt her. Besides, I found out that she’s thirty-five. That’s still young enough for her to think she’s not too old for me. Oh — man — I’m going half crazy.”
Hank hilariously enjoyed this speech and suggested, “Well, you might at least string her along until I get a new mattress too. After all, I donated five bears to the cause, I ought to get some returns.”
Abbot groaned. “Listen, you big ape, this is no time for jokes. You were always good at getting me out of messes. Now think of something and be quick about it or I don’t write any more love poems for that girl of yours out in Milwaukee.”
Hank sobered down to an amused smile. He announced his retirement into the realm of thought by banging on his chin with an inky thumb. Abbot sighed in audible relief as he recognized his friend’s outward habit of contemplation.
At length Abbot was aroused from a dark day dream of housemaids and their brothers by Hank exclaiming, “Ah, I think I got it.” He further explained, “Well it might cost you about twenty-five dollars.”
“Anything, anything,” agreed Abbot.
“Well, Max who used to work down at Danny’s bar is out of a job. Now I think that for twenty-five I can persuade him to take Greta off our hands. He’s sure-fire with all the girls.”
Abbot, rethinking, asked, “Don’t you think he’d do it for five instead?”
“Arched brows, implying ‘Would you?’ caused Abbot to relent. “O.K It’s my funeral.”
“Say, you ought to be glad it’s not your wedding,” retorted Hank, ducking a book.
Later Hank revealed the outcome of his bargaining with Max. “It’s all settled for Friday night,” he revealed. “But first you have to give him the money. He wants the twenty-five whether it works or not. It’s your only chance. Furthermore, now that he’s in on it, you’d better give him the money to keep his mouth quiet.”
Abbot poked his head into the linen room. “Greta,” he called.
“Yes, a voice answered, and Greta appeared from behind a rack of sheets. “Oh it’s you. Yes? Is there anything you want?”
“Well, Greta,” Abbot flustered, “I have someone who is dying to meet you.”
“And who may that be, your mother?”
“Oh no,” Abbot gasped. “This is a young man. He wants to take you out.”
“A young man,” Greta looked at Abbot lovingly and commented, “Oh my dear, dear boy.”
“Oh my God,” thought Abbot.
Greta went on, “Why you youngster, don’t you know I’m very happily married and have a youngster almost as tall as you. He’s away to school now. You remind me so much of him; that’s why I enjoy doing those few extra things for you. It’s your eyes that are so much like his.”
“My eyes,” groaned Abbot. He groaned even loader as he remembered the promised twenty-five dollars — all for a new mattress.