Crown of Laurel by Loretta Tollefson

Description:

What happens when your dreams come face to face with economic reality? Do you compromise, lower your sights and find a way to some measure of comfort through a lower level of achievement? Or, do you stick doggedly to your course even though it promises no certain reward and may lead to total failure?

Deborah and Lawrence both face the decision to compromise or to pursue their goals with no thought for the consequences.

The fortune of one proceeds by compromise and ends in comfort. That of the other devolves into homelessness and a life on the street.

Set in Seattle during the recession of the early 1980’s, this novel reflects its streets, back alleys and moody skies and provides a gallery of sharply drawn, unforgettable characters.

Excerpt:

The Seattle bus depot was always busy on Monday mornings. Inside, lines snaked away from the ticket counter toward the restrooms and from the candy machines to the street door.

The yard outside was only a large shed with steel fences for walls. The passengers were uncomfortably aware of the city around them. They huddled at the closed doors of outbound buses or pawed hurriedly through the piles of luggage near the midsections of the buses just in.

There was only one person left of the group which had come via the stopping places of Dungeness and Maynard from the Olympic Peninsula. This was a girl who looked as if she was just out of high school. Her shoulder length brown hair and fair skin looked fresh even in the grimy light filtering through the greenish plastic overhead. She was asking the bus driver for directions.

He, of course, had no idea how far the Arctic Building was from the depot.

The girl thanked him and moved toward the bus depot She had no luggage except her white fabric purse. The Portland bus had driven in behind hers. As she passed it, a tall slim young man in a dark overcoat pulled an old-fashioned black suitcase from the pile of cases beside it.

“Excuse me, miss?”

She turned.

“Could you tell me how to get to—” He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. “Nine oh nine Fourth Avenue?”

She shook her head. “I’m trying to figure out where I’m supposed to be going.” She dug into her purse. “I’ve got a map though, if that will help.”

He looked around the dingy yard. “I think there are benches inside.”

She followed him through the thick wooden double doors. The benches were crowded with people. She found a bit of space at the end of one and perched on it. He put his suitcase down and balanced on it while he looked over her shoulder.

She opened the map. “The question is, where are we?”

He pulled his ticket stub out of his pocket. “You’d think this would say.”

She looked at it. “No such luck.” She looked around the room. “What’s that sign over the door? Stewart Street? Let’s see—”

“Right here.” His finger ran along the line carefully. “The question is, where on Stewart? Ah hah, right on the map. Greyhound Bus Depot.”

She laughed. “I didn’t think of that.” She ran an unpainted fingernail along Eighth. “It looks like all the numbered streets run parallel with the water. Well, that will help.”

“Help?”

She grinned at him. “To know east from west. West is the water.”

“W and W.”

She ran her finger down Stewart. “And here’s Fourth. Now the Arctic Building—” She reached into her purse. “Third and Cherry. It’s not very far from where you’re going.”

“Well, a few blocks. Nine oh nine should be just about here.” He stubbed a finger down at a street called Marion.

She reached for a corner of the map. “Do you think you’ll be able to find it without this?”

“Oh sure, I’ll be okay now. I just needed a general idea.”

She looked up. His eyes were so blue. She hadn’t expected that color with the black curliness of his hair. It gave his face an intense look. So very different from Andrew’s.

She suddenly realized what she was doing.

“Are you uh— Do you live here?” he asked.

“No. I’m just here for the day, for a job interview.”

“Oh. My name’s Lawrence. Lawrence Anderson.”

She began to fold the map. “I’m Deborah Brownell.”

“That’s pretty.”

She smoothed the map. He watched her. She put the map in her purse. She was suddenly aware of how much the old depot echoed. The doors to the street banged open and closed and feet shuffled endlessly on the scuffed floor. All these people, but no one had paid any attention when she and this stranger had come in from the bus area.

“If you’re going to be here all day, maybe I can take you to lunch—”

She caught the hesitation. She looked up at him, then quickly down. The piece of paper with her interview address on it lay in her lap. She slipped it into her pocket.

His mouth opened and then closed. He was being foolish and he knew it. He didn’t have time for girls. More importantly, money. If he was going to make it in this city, he’d have to spend every penny on living, not eating. Eating out with girls, anyway.

Deborah glanced at her watch. Maybe it would be okay. If no one was watching, maybe it meant this was normal. After all, she had to learn to take care of herself in the city sometime. Today was for beginning, wasn’t it? And he seemed nice. She looked at her watch again. She had an hour before she had to start searching for the Arctic Building.

“I don’t have much time—” she began.

“Well in that case— Maybe some other time,” he said. He smiled at her, their eyes not connecting. He picked up his suitcase. “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the directions.”

He was already edging away and she watched him go with the smile she’d been going to accept his invitation with still hovering around her lips.