1948

"Penny, tell my wife I'm in meetings all day in the event she calls," I heard a voice call through the desk speaker.

"Yes, Mr. Honeycomb," I said, being grateful he couldn't see me as I was rolling my eyes. I of all people knew he wasn't in meetings at all given that I was the one that maintained his schedules. It was my belief that he was cheating on Mrs. Honeycomb. But I really should stay out of it. My job would be in jeopardy.

I was hoping my four years of toiling at Montgomery High School would have been repaid by a job paying at least one dollar an hour but alas here I was at the advertising firm my father had worked at since I was three, making just above minimum wage at 43 cents an hour.

Allen made it worthwhile though. He was the office mailboy. "Here you go, Miss Johnson," he said as he tipped his hat to me revealing his muted red hair. It was curly but slicked back and the color reminded me of my best friend, Gail's, hair.

"Hello, Mr. Halliwell, how are you doing today," I'd always say as I took whatever package or mail Mr. Honeycomb had had delivered.

Today was different though. Today he asked, "How is your boyfriend,"

I was taken aback. I realize, ever since junior high, I had been unapproachable by boys. I was always smart and my refusal to be a cheerleader, a drill team girl, or a part of the color guard and my disdain of girls who did, made me part of the group of girls who were to be stayed away from.

Any boy who tried to talk to me was called a pansy for trying to date a girl who was probably stronger than he. And with my powers, I probably was. But Allen's forwardness was as much appreciated, as it was surprising.

"Urm," reminding myself of my mother's teaching to never mumble and to always be direct and truthful, "I do not have one. How is your lady companion, Mr. Halliwell?"

Allen averted his eyes. Great another man turned away by my directness.

"She is… nonexistent, and please, call me Allen… or Al. Whichever you like the best," he said with a smile that shamed the sixty-watt bulbs buzzing above my head.

"Not to be unpleasant, Mr. Ha… um, Allen, but why are you asking? I inquired as I folded my hands on my desk.

"Well," he started as he scratched the back of his neck and his, what I could only guess, southern accent became pronounced, "Well, Miss Johnson-,"

"Penny," I urged.

"-Penny, I would like to call on you tonight."

"Call on me? Are you calling me a prostitute?" I asked my voice getting a bit higher that usual.

"No, ma'am, I mean, I meant, it's just a phrase in the south I suppose, it's just, I would like to go on a date with you tonight," he said, his face reddening to the same shade as his hair.

My misplaced anger was quickly replaced with delight but I only let my face show a mild interest.

"Of course, I would, Allen… Al."

He smiled that bright white smile and he turned o his heel and pushed his cart out of the door whistling. He came rushing back in only a moment later.

"1329 Prescott Street. 7:30?" I told him before he could open his mouth.

"See you then, Penny," he said as he turned, bumping into a statuesque blonde woman in a nice evening gown.

"Sorry, ma'am," Allen said as he tipped his hat again.

The woman nodded and strode to the office door.

"Mr. Honeycomb isn't expecting anyone!" I called after her.

"He's expecting me, sugar," she said as she strode through the door and she closed the blinds.

My suspicions were right, of course. I felt sorry for poor missus Eugenie Honeycomb. She was a really sweet woman and she occasionally made me muffins. I didn't know why her husband would cheat on her. But, alas, like clockwork in came Mrs. Honeycomb.

"Hello dear!" she said, as she gave me a hug and set a package on my desk, "Banana bread," she said. I began to panic. Mrs. Honeycomb was once pretty. I had seen a picture of her on my boss's desk before they had had four kids. She used t be blonde, busty, and beautiful but now her face was a bit wrinkled like dough you pulled on a bit too much and her blonde hair was streaked with gray in all the wrong places. And as for her chest, well her bust was well acquainted with her navel. I really should recommend a new brassier.

"Thank you!" I said.

"How's Priscilla?" she asked. She and my mother had gone to school together.

"She has her hands full with Gordy," I laughed.

"Oh yes, such a handsome young man," she said.

"He looks like, Daddy," I agreed. She was really very nice which made what I was about to do much harder.

"So is my husband in a meeting?" she asked.

I hesitated, "In a way, yes, yes ma'am he is,"

"Ah, when will he be out?" she asked.

"No, telling, why don't you go on in," I suggested.

She looked at me questioning and I nodded. She shrugged.

She walked to the door, pulled and it was locked. A second later, a voice came over the speaker, "Penny, knock!" he said.

"Of course sir," I agreed. Mrs. Honeycomb was obviously confused.

"What's going on, Penelope?" she asked. I figured she already had a sneaking suspicion. I twitched my finger under the desk and the blinds opened.

"See for yourself," I said. I pressed the talk button on the speaker. "I'll be taking my lunch now, Mr. Honeycomb," I said.

I collected my purse just as Mrs. Eugenie looked into the window. I twisted my finger again to unlock the door.

I was down the hall when I heard yelling. I felt bad and great at the same time. Eugenie did deserve better and I got to keep my job. Win-Win.