Parlor Games: A Novel Part 10

"Well, tickle me, aren't we two peas in a pod," said Sue Marie, taking my arm. "As for the theater, top billing and good pay only go to the cream of the crop, and, believe me, they have to sc.r.a.pe their way up. Besides, I'm after more money than that."

It was my turn to laugh. "I understand altogether."

We approached the corner of Broadway and Salmon, and she steered us onto Salmon, under the shade of the trees' limey-green leaves. "How'd you like to be my partner?"

"Partner in what?"

"In finding a pot of gold."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"First by saving enough money to dress like royalty." Sue Marie flicked her hand, as if to say, the rest is obvious.

"Ah, my father always said: 'It takes money to impress money.' "

She tipped her face toward mine. "We'd make a good team."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"As a preacher in the pulpit."

"Then," said I, "two peas in a pod we shall be." And so began my saga with Sue Marie.

The clientele at Emma Black's wasn't as uniformly distinguished as that of Carrie Watson's in Chicago, but Sue Marie and I hoped that patience with what Portland had to offer would reward us in the long run. There was one particular fellow at Emma Black's, however, whom I wish I'd never met, a physician by the name of Dr. Willard Farnhardt. Willard had a clear white complexion such as any woman would envy, but on him it looked sallow and ghostly. His eyes were sunk deep into his sharp-boned face and darted about like bats in flight. Lanky he was, nearly to the point of emaciation. The first evening I ever dined by his side, over the house's home-cooked dinner, I observed him picking at his beef roast, drawing a few sinews to his mouth, and chewing laboriously. I came to suspect that his preferred nourishment was not meat, nor even liquor, but cocaine.

By November of 1889, Willard's attentions had not only turned from amorous to matrimonial but taken on frightening proportions. He had issued an ultimatum: If I did not agree to leave Emma Black's and become his bride, his life would be unbearable, his actions unaccountable. He expected an answer once and for all on the third Sat.u.r.day in November. All day I dreaded his visit, and, as if in sympathy, the weather took a turn for the worse. The temperature plummeted to freezing, and arrows of icy sleet buffeted the house's windows.

Willard greeted me in the main parlor, his gaunt physique clad in a black suit, scoop-front waistcoat, and stiff white s.h.i.+rt with sharp, winged openings at the collar. During dinner with all the other girls and gentleman guests, his mood remained decidedly dour, despite my efforts to cheer him or, at the least, entice him to join the conversation.

An Oregonian reporter launched our dinnertime discussion with news of the Nickel-in-a-Slot, a music machine that had just been unveiled in San Francisco; Willard scoffed at everyone's enthusiasm for the new invention. When talk turned to Jack the Ripper's depravity, I asked him to venture an opinion on the ripper's psychical state. He merely snorted. While several of the other gentlemen speculated about whether Nellie Bly-who had just interrupted her journey to visit Jules Verne-really could make it around the world in less than eighty days, I jested he should join their wager. And when Miss Black recommended a book she'd just read-A Study in Scarlet, with the brilliant detective Sherlock Holmes-I inquired as to his reading preferences.

He took none of this bait and offered only whispered asides to me-about how fetching I looked in my midnight-blue gown, how much he looked forward to our private time together, and how he intended to shower his new bride with gems of all shapes and sizes. After dinner, he declined to join the other gentlemen for cigars over a few rounds of poker and instead approached the maid who collected the evening's fees and escorted me up the stairs to my bedroom.

He retracted the wick on my lantern until it dimmed to a dull flicker, removed a flask from his vest pocket, and gulped greedily from it. With a haughty laugh, he said, "That, I a.s.sure you, is the last time I will hand money over for the pleasure of your company."

In the darkened room I could not read his expression, but my heart galloped at the foreboding in his words. "Please, Willard, let's enjoy each other's company and not worry about the future."

"But the future is exactly what this is about, my dear. Have you forgotten I asked for your answer tonight?"

"No, not forgotten. Only hoped that you would understand the impossibility of what you propose."

"Impossible? Why ever is my proposal impossible?"

"Because you're a gentleman, and it wouldn't be right for us to consider any other arrangement."

"That, my dear, is not your concern. What you consider impossible is within your reach. How can you refuse the life I offer?"

"I'm not meant for such a life."

"Do you dare to refuse me?" He backed up against my window. "Will you cast me out into the cold world by denying my heart's only desire?"

"No, I will happily see you every night. But I do not wish to marry."

He unlatched the window and flung it open. Cold wind and sleet blasted into the room and whipped the sheer, lacy curtains into contorted whorls. My dresser lamp flared and died. His spindly torso twisted and turned, silhouetted in the window against the street lamps' hazy glow.

Chilled, I hugged myself. "Willard, what are you doing?"

He climbed onto the windowsill. "You mean everything to me. Do you see that now?"

"Please, this is foolish. Come down." I hastened toward the door, fear shooting through my veins like a lightning charge.

"Do you still refuse me?"

"Not you, I don't refuse you. Only your offer of marriage."

A wild-eyed grimace flitted across his face as he turned from me and-I could hardly believe my eyes-leapt from the window. A dull thud and bleating wail sounded from the street below.

"No," I screamed. I flung my door open and ran down the stairs. "Miss Black, Miss Black," I called, desperate to find her and only vaguely aware that I might be upsetting everyone who saw me rush through the central parlor, the sitting room, and finally the kitchen, where I found her. "Miss Black, there's been a terrible accident. Dr. Farnhardt jumped from my window."

The rest of that night was a blear of panic and disorder. Miss Black took command of the situation, ordering one of the maids to run for a doctor and another to contact the police commissioner. The doctor reported Willard had broken both his legs in the fall and summoned an ambulance to transport him to the hospital. Commissioner Eagleton interviewed me in Miss Black's presence, a.s.suring her that he considered the incident a curious mishap and nothing more. Then he left to check on Dr. Farnhardt's condition-"both of body and mind," he said, winking at Miss Black.

After the commissioner departed, Miss Black and I were left alone in her parlor office. "Pauline, this is a most upsetting state of affairs. Everyone is shaken up-all the girls, our clients, and me, too. I do not need this kind of attention."

"I'm terribly sorry, I truly am. I did everything I could to reason with him."

"You should have come to me earlier, as soon as he announced he intended to marry you at any cost. I do have some experience in these matters."

"Yes, miss." I cast my gaze downward. "I've learned a lesson."

"I should hope so. This is a business, a business that requires tact and discretion, and you have failed me on both counts."

"I understand. It will never happen again, I promise."

"You will keep me informed of any such problems in the future."

"Yes, miss."

"And one more thing. Your dressmaking debt is unacceptably large. You are to place no new orders, and I will hold back five dollars a week until your debt is settled. Is that understood?"

I nodded, though I knew my sojourn at Miss Black's was fast coming to an end.

It was after midnight when I retreated to my room. Sue Marie brought up a steaming pitcher of water and helped me out of my gown, petticoat, and undergarments and into bed. She cleansed my face, neck, and arms with a warm cloth, soothing me all the time. "There, there, your Sue Marie'll take care of you."

"I've annoyed Miss Black," I said, looking up at her.

Sue Marie held up the covers and nestled in bed alongside me. "Don't worry. Anybody could see Farnhardt's scales are tipped."

I closed my eyes. "I keep seeing him flying out of my window."

"What a fool. You should have seen him lying on the ground, bellowing like a calving cow."

"He jumped because of me."

"It wasn't your fault," Sue Marie said, nuzzling my head into the crook of her neck.

I brushed my mouth over her neck. Pulling herself up on an elbow, she lowered her face to mine and kissed my cheeks, eyelids, and lips. She slipped her hand down over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and abdomen to between my thighs. Her fingers stroked and tingled me until, becalmed by the tenderest caresses I had ever known, I fell asleep in her embrace.

SAN FRANCISCO'S CHARMS

NOVEMBERDECEMBER 1889

Three days later, Sue Marie and I departed Portland-ahead of schedule and behind on savings.

As our train chugged into San Francisco on a dull gray November afternoon, it dawned on me that I'd arrived at yet another outpost of our vast country. I had a.s.sumed I'd find a metropolis greatly enriched by the gold in California's hills, but this was a city still seeking its way into the future. Compared with Chicago's glimmering buildings of fresh brick, clean-cut stone, and wide windows, San Francisco's hodgepodge of wooden storefronts and blocky one-, two-, and three-story structures appeared as tattered and ready to ignite as parched tinder. And whereas the signs on Chicago's buildings exemplified simplicity, San Francisco's stores fairly chattered with slogans and advertis.e.m.e.nts.

But what struck me most was the city dwellers: workers in thick pants that bunched about their knees and ankles; businessmen in well-worn suits and derby hats, only a few with the formal frock coats or stylish straw boaters that were common in Chicago; and men fresh from the countryside, tanned and unshaven, with scruffy coils of hair running down the backs of their necks. In short, all manner of men, but spa.r.s.er numbers of women. I began to comprehend Sue Marie's claim that a young lady might easily strike gold in San Francisco.

Sue Marie insisted we take up residence at San Francisco's finest hotel, the Palace, if for no other reason than to be seen there-and not at some less desirable accommodation. But our funds could only keep us in this style for little more than a week, which meant we would need to work fast. After transporting our trunks to the hotel in a horsecar, we hiked up and down San Francisco's hilly streets, exploring the city.

Settled in the hotel room our first evening in the city, Sue Marie stretched out on the bed, ma.s.saging one bare foot against the other. "We need to find a jeweler tomorrow. One who deals in used pieces."

I hung the last of my gowns in the closet and sank into an overstuffed chair beside the bed. "What for?"

Sue Marie reached down her dress bodice, flipped out a pocket compartment, and extracted a gold ring with a single raised diamond. She twisted the ring between thumb and finger, showing off the sparkle of its diamond. "To sell this."

I reached out my palm. As she plunked the ring into my hand I asked, "Where'd you get this?"

Sue Marie chuckled. "From Farnhardt's jacket. That night."

"So that's why the police searched the rooms. Where did you hide it?"

"In the attic, over my room."

"And you never told anyone?"

Sue Marie flipped on her side and tossed her head with the nonchalance of a bored youngster. "In that place? Full of wagging mouths?"

"And if they'd found it, you'd have ended in jail."

"You should be thanking me for quick thinking."

"But we're partners."

"So?"

"We shouldn't take foolish risks." Sue Marie and I had argued two days earlier over her proclivity for s.n.a.t.c.hing jewelry. She'd filched a pair of earrings from a woman who'd fainted at the train station in Portland, and we were fortunate to have boarded the train before the theft came to light.

"This one paid off, didn't it?"

I unlaced my shoes and propped my sore feet on an ottoman. "It was harebrained-risking arrest over a ring that won't bring in more than forty or fifty dollars."

"You can go back to the bordello business or stick with me."

"You sure about this plan? I tried dining by myself in Chicago's finest hotels, and it didn't work."

"What about your banker fiance? How'd you meet him?"

"By way of introduction. After I'd landed in society circles."

Sue Marie plumped up a pillow under her head. "But this is San Francisco. And we're going to knock 'em out with our gowns."

I knew Sue Marie expected me to play second fiddle, but in hopes of turning the tables, I remarked, "Yes, I do look forward to stepping out as an heiress."

"You're not playing that part."

"Aren't I?"

"No, you're playing my companion."

I got up and sat down beside her on the bed, twisting around to face her. "I wouldn't be any good at that."

"You're putting on a regular Sarah Bernhardt right now."

"Playing the companion requires better acting skills."

"Oh, piffle," said Sue Marie. "Think I can't see through your flattery?"

"We need to work together, don't we?"

"We sure do."

"Then let's settle this fairly." I drew my legs up on the bed. "With a contest."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What kind of contest?"

"To see who makes the better lure."