Rupert Holmes, Howard Meltzer, and AMC own the rights to Remember WENN...I just like to play.
I've decided on my excuse--one of my Holmes ancestors was married to a Roberts. Which is why the Accountant's name is Mr. Fountain. Zerubbabel Hoyt Married Dorothy Holmes (daughter of Jonathan Holmes and Dorothy Roberts). Their daughter, Elizabeth Hoyt married Matthew Fountain (who was apparently a loyalist).
"That lowlife," Hilary said as she stormed into the station.
"What did Jeff do now?" Gertie didn't not bother to look up from her knitting.
"He found her on the streets while patrolling along the river last night. She was cold and hungry, he said. He brought her home...another trollop..."
Jeff followed her in carrying a box. "She is not a trollop..."
"She's female, and she likes you..." She stopped speaking as she realized what she was saying, then ignored her comment. "And now you are bringing that hussy here."
At this Gertie did look up and leaned forward to see out the door.
A plaintive sound from the box he was holding. "Mirouw..." Jeff carefully placed it on the table and lifted the lid. A brown and black spotted kitten looked tentatively over the edge then leapt out and sat in front of Jeff.
"She's adorable," Gertie said. She smiled slightly at Hilary's angry glare.
"Harlot..." Hilary walked away.
"Actually she likes Hilary...Well some of the time anyway."
"When she is asleep?" Gertie grinned at Jeff's nod. "Has she eaten?"
"A leftover sandwich last night. I was hoping Mackie would cover for me later..." The kitten, or young cat--Gertie figured she was about 6 months old--leapt off the desk when no food or attention was offered.
#
#
Maple grabbed at the cat, but missed. A resounding evil chord exited from the organ as the cat landed on the keyboard, and quickly jumped off. She shrugged slightly, and controlled the urge to laugh at the interruption of the Eugenia's exercise show.
Eugenia just smiled, and continued. "Well, sometimes, things go wrong." She had dropped a stitch in her knitting. "Back to jumping jacks. Ready position. Begin. One...Two...One...Two..." As she continued counting, she knitted two, pearled one in time. Maple played a march as accompaniment, but stopped suddenly when she noticed the cat stalking the ball of yarn on the floor.
As Betty walked by the studio, a screech reached her ears. She pushed the doors open, to find Eugenia and Maple on the floor, trying to coax a delighted cat from the tangle of yarn it had wrapped around itself.
#
#
"Yes, Lieutenant, may I help you?" Gertie looked up and smiled at the good-looking young man in a crisp white naval uniform. The cat in her lap stretched slightly, before settling back into a contented sleep.
"Actually I'm just an ensign," he replied with a smile. "But thanks for the promotion. And yes you can help, is Betty here?"
"She's in a meeting..."
"Oh." He frowned and looked down the hall, then he smiled. "I think she'll see me. Tell her Ensign James Thaddeus Roberts is here to see her...And if that doesn't work, tell her my train leaves in less than three hours."
Gertie picked up the phone and connected to Betty's office. "Hello, Betty. Yes there is an officious young man to see you. I know--but he tells me it is important. Yes, of course..." She laughed as she hung up and turned toward Betty's brother--she guessed. "So, you are in the navy."
"Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way to Florida for flight school."
"A pilot, how exciting." Gertie leaned forward.
"I flew cropdusters in Elkhart the past two summers to help pay for college." They both looked down the hall at the sound of a closing door. Betty was walking toward them.
Betty stopped suddenly and stared. "Jimmy?" She whispered. "What are you doing here? You should have called."
He shook his head. "I didn't know if I could manage to con the transport officer in letting me make this side trip. You look good."
She walked around him, studying him carefully. "Well I guess you will do. But I thought you weren't graduating until June?" She finished with a hug.
"I haven't graduated, the Navy needs officers and pilots."
Betty stood still a minute, then smiled. "A pilot." There was a long pause. "You always wanted to fly. So how long are you in Pittsburgh?"
He glanced at his watch. "I have exactly two hours and thirty-five minutes before my train leaves. I hope you haven't had lunch yet."
She laughed. "Lately, lunch is a luxury lacking in my life."
He laughed. "Great, I'll take you someplace--your pick."
"Gertie, tell Mr. Medwick that I am going to lunch with this handsome Navy ensign. I'll contact him to reschedule our meeting. Please."
"Sure."
"By the way," Jimmy said as he helped Betty with her coat. "Mom is worried about you. I'm supposed to suggest that you visit her, soon."
"I can't," Betty said. "In fact I really don't have time for this lunch. Let's go."
Gertie watched them leave, before picking up her knitting. She jumped when Maple spoke.
"So, who's the good-looking officer with Betty?"
"Her brother."
"Better..." She straightened her dress. "Do you know when they'll be returning?"
"He has a train to catch."
"Oh, oh well." She took her coat off the rack. "I'm off to lunch. And Mr. Medwick is in the control room complaining about his ulcer."
"Oh, I'm supposed to tell him..." Gertie stood quickly.
#
#
"I wouldn't go in there," Eugenia said as she raised her hand slightly. Hilary shifted her weight impatiently.
"And why not?" The actress took a step toward the greenroom door.
"Please, Hilary. It's Mr. Foley...He's very upset."
She stopped to listen, then placed a hand on the door. "I don't hear anything."
Eugenia shrugged. "He lost his voice."
"Well, I want to sit down..." Hilary pushed on the door. Mr. Foley looked up at her intrusion, then leaned back against the sofa and raised his bare left foot.
"It's a fine foot," Hilary said as she walked over to the coffee pot. "But, you really should keep your shoes on."
There was a slight sound from Mr. Foley as he put his foot down with a dejected sigh.
"Oh all right," Hilary said with a sigh of exasperation as she sipped her coffee. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head.
Eugenia sat down beside him and took his hand. "There, there Mr. Foley...Maybe you can be an air raid warden like Jeff and Tom."
He rolled his eyes and bent over to retrieve his sock. As he slipped his foot into it, Eugenia went on to explain. "He tried to enlist and was told his feet were not good enough for military service. Poor Mr. Foley, he tried to explain to the doctor that his feet were fine...but they wouldn't listen." Mr. Foley sadly nodded his head as he tied his shoelace.
Hilary took another sip of coffee and sat down. "Now, now Mr. Foley. Shouldn't you be on the air?"
"Mackie is handling the sound effects," Eugenia said. "Mr. Foley, be of good cheer. We need you here."
He tried to smile, but ended up just giving a dispirited shrug as he stood and ambled over to the door.
"He's so depressed about this," Eugenia said to Hilary, who was reading the morning paper. She gave up trying to talk to the actress and instead leaned closer to read the headlines about the fall of Singapore.
#
#
Betty closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. The account book was open on the same page she'd not been reading for the past fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and tried again to concentrate on the payroll numbers. It just wasn't working.
"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy..." She whispered. Her kid brother had done everything in his power to learn to fly. Mother hadn't been pleased with his fascination with flight...She still remembered the barnstormer that had taken Jimmy up in a plane years ago...She chuckled. She wasn't old enough to think of things in terms of *years ago.* It had been the summer of 1936. War had been such a far away thing--no one had considered it a possibility--too many other things had taken priority.
The numbers...She had until next Friday to complete them, when the company accountant was coming by. She shuddered slightly. Fortunately Mr. Fountain was not a Rollie Pruitt. Actually, no one was a Rollie Pruitt.
The books would never be completed if she kept mentally wandering off like this. "Oh." She still had to call Mr. Medwick and apologize for running out...
Betty laid her pencil down and groaned, barely noticing the door open slightly. No one entered so she ignored it.
She jumped out of her chair and shrieked when a tiny gray lump landed on the paper in front of her eyes. The small calico cat sat there staring at her, immensely proud of the gift it had brought.
Betty started laughing when she realized the mouse was quite dead.
"Betty," Jeff said as he pushed the door open. "Are you all right?"
She reached down and picked the mouse up by the tail. "Your friend brought me a gift." The cat ignored the mouse and conversation and started to carefully wash each foot. "I think depositing it outside might be a good idea." She handed the mouse to Jeff: who reached out and took it, dangling it carefully as far from him as he could.
She petted the cat. "I suppose you can stay..." Since most of their time was spent here, no one had been very willing to take her home...And she had noticed there was a mouse problem.
#
Hilary stood in the doorway and watched as Jeff marched down the hall with his arm held straight in front of him.
"Really, Cupcake...I know you are most impatient and motivated to move into movies, but murdering Mickey Mouse may not manage much improvement..." He ignored her, so she returned to the studio.
Scott picked up the piece of paper he had been staring at, hoping that a change in perspective would offer a solution. Exasperated he tossed it down on the desk and rubbed his eyes.
"When it gets like that, it's time to quit. The old man wants to see you." Scott turned, smiled at the man and nodded. He carefully put the paper away and filed it in a desk drawer. He didn't dare look at a clock as he really didn't want to know the time. He tossed the remains of his dinner in the trash and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. With any luck the meeting would be only a half hour.
#
#
Two hours later he was lying on his bed. He shifted slightly to avoid the lump and smiled as he picked up Betty's letter again. A dreadful wailing song came through the wall. Scott almost started to pound on it--his neighbor was apparently more than a little inebriated--but changed his mind. He hummed as he continued to read, trying to ignore his neighbor. When the neighbor started to sing an octave higher, Scott tapped on the wall, and there was silence. He knew it wouldn't last long.
He'd considered moving...but...There wasn't much choice...and now not much reason. He smiled slightly as he remembered the meeting. He would be leaving at the end of March. His smile grew bigger. The boss had been sympathetic--and was giving Scott four days in Pittsburgh before he had to head west.
A sharp yowl echoed through the room, then there was a thud from next door. Scott shook his head--his neighbor had passed out early tonight. He picked up a pen and piece of paper and started to write.
Mr. Foley looked around the studio, his only witness would be the cat who was asleep on his table. She seemed totally oblivious to the serious nature of what he was about to do. He sat on his stool and kicked off his shoes. She opened one eye, glared at him for disturbing her sleep, then closed it.
He stretched his feet, then started wiggling his toes.
"Mr. Foley?" Eugenia said as she entered the unlit studio. "What are you doing? Oh, there you are." She reached down to pick the cat up. "I've prepared a nice bed for you in the back. There's food and water too...And before you ask, I'm taking my knitting home." She nuzzled the cat, then looked at Mr. Foley. "Mr. Foley, it's time to go home."
He sighed as he watched her leave. No one understood...