Parlor Games: A Novel Part 11

With a disdainful shake of her head she said, "No. I'm the one who came up with the plan."

I reached out and fingered the strands of hair falling about her temples. "Think about it. Don't we want the best lure playing the role?"

Sue Marie pushed my hand away. "I don't give a pollywog's legs."

"Aw, Sue Marie, please?"

"Please what?"

"Please, let's have a contest." I patted my prayer-poised hands together and raised my eyebrows pleadingly.

"And if I win, you'll quit your bellyaching?"

"Promise."

She put on one of her roguish sneers. "Then in the lobby. Tomorrow."

I rearranged myself on folded knees and leaned toward her. "We'll sit at opposite ends. And count the men we meet over an hour."

"No starting up conversations. We just wait for takers."

"Agreed," I said, falling on her and tickling her sides until she dissolved into a wriggling ma.s.s of squeals and yelps.

The next afternoon, I allowed Sue Marie to dress first. Then I refreshed my moss-green gown with a moist towel, fluffed it up, and took out my prize possession: the yellow-diamond necklace I'd acquired in Milwaukee. Never before had I worn it in public: There'd been no occasion. In fact, no one but Maman even knew of it.

I carmined my lips, powdered my cheeks, darkened my eyelashes with dabs of castor oil, and-voila. Promptly at five, I stepped out of our room, gripped the polished golden railing, and descended the stairs, relis.h.i.+ng the plush carpet absorbing my mincing steps. I trained my eyes on the lobby opening up before me. Sue Marie sat in a wingback chair, upright with expectation. I took a few steps in her direction and came close enough-within thirty feet-to allow her a good look at me. Her gaze traveled up from the fullness of my skirt, over my bodice of corded braids, and landed on my necklace. Her eyes widened. What is it they say in lawn tennis? Advantage-yes, that's it. I believe I scored a point for my own confidence, and possibly one against Sue Marie's, just by sporting that dazzling piece.

At the end of the appointed hour, the score was five gentlemen for me, three for Sue Marie. When the lobby clock struck six, I reached into my purse and extracted the room key.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said to the pair of brothers sitting beside me. Rising, I dangled the key in Sue Marie's direction and mounted the stairs to our third-floor room.

Sue Marie let herself in a few minutes later. "You're a sly one, aren't you?"

"And you, my dear, are a delightful companion. I shall look forward to your a.s.sistance with every detail of my itinerary."

Sue Marie smirked. "Don't let it go to your head, Princess Bordello."

I palmed my pinned-up hair. "I believe I'll leave Miss Davidson behind. Henceforth, I shall be Pauline Townsend."

My dear Sue Marie made dinner reservations for me that evening, taking care to select a table that would prominently display my attire and jewels. While I dined in the Palace's Grand Court, she took her own dinner in the privacy of our room. Over the next five days, I had many offers for table mates and dined with several promising prospects, but on the sixth evening, a most unusual man came to my attention.

I was seated at a table with two middle-aged gentlemen, businessmen of obvious good fortune-if only middling physical const.i.tution-when the conversation turned to living arrangements.

"And do you enjoy this hotel, Miss Townsend?" the lanky Mr. Amperson asked, nervously fingering his gla.s.s of whiskey.

"Yes, though spending day after day in the same hotel room can get wearisome."

"I find that on my business travels as well. For a few days it's a novelty, but it does get old."

Mr. Zimmer, whose Adam's apple bounced when he spoke, cleared his throat. "That's why I keep an apartment at the Sh.o.r.eside, a suite with a balcony looking out on the Bay."

I could have sworn he told me he resided elsewhere. "But I thought you lived on n.o.b Hill?"

"Yes, I do. But it's boring living in the same house day after day," he said, chuckling at his own cleverness.

"When I've settled my business affairs, I believe I'll consider a house or apartment myself," I said, though in truth the notion of settling down in some conventional neighborhood, even in San Francisco, bored me.

Mr. Amperson caught the waiter's eye and then looked to me. "As it happens, I own an apartment building on Powell Street. Each time a room opens, I redecorate. Always a fine room to be had there, should you ever be interested."

How delightful-two gentlemen vying for me. I reasoned that Mr. Amperson would be the more pliable of the two. Sue Marie could investigate his holdings and reputation, but with the Palace taking a toll on our finances, we couldn't afford to tarry. I turned to Mr. Amperson. "And is this a good time to be in real estate?"

"Quite good, actually. The city is booming; newcomers are pouring in every day."

Not to be outdone, Mr. Zimmer added, "And they're buying. The furniture business has never been better."

The waiter arrived, and I ordered and leaned back in my chair. Overhead, the hue of the Grand Court's stained-gla.s.s dome deepened. Dusk had settled. The table and wall lamps now outshone the outdoors' ambient light, and the stained gla.s.s reflected its golden glow on the diners' faces, the clean tablecloths, and my periwinkle-blue gown.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a gentleman standing twenty feet to my side, studying me in the most unabashed manner. I turned and met his gaze. He had the darkness of a foreigner, a broad, p.r.o.nounced jaw, and cocoa-brown eyes. A shock of wavy black hair swept back from his square forehead, and a trim mustache gracefully outlined the shapely curve of his lip. His compact yet proud bearing showed off a barrel-thick chest clad in a tailored dinner jacket. In a word, the man was das.h.i.+ng-and much younger than my dinner companions. He placed a hand over his abdomen, bowed to me, then strode off, unhurried but purposeful.

When I bade good night to my dinner companions and started for the stairs, this same man reappeared from the corner of the lobby, as if he'd been waiting for me. He approached, bowed again, and said, "May I introduce myself, senorita? I am Juan Ramon."

"Mr. Ramon," I said, dipping my head. "I am Pauline Townsend."

"Yes, I know." Though accented, his English was quite clear.

"Oh? How is that?"

"I asked the maitre d'." Opening his hand toward the hotel's bar, he asked, "Would you permit me to buy you a drink?"

He escorted me to the bar, where he ordered brandy for us.

"I take it, Mr. Ramon, that you do not reside in San Francisco?"

"No, I am from Guatemala. But I travel much. And you-is California your home?"

"No, no. I'm from Chicago."

Our waiter delivered our drinks, and Mr. Ramon lifted his gla.s.s. "To the most beautiful woman in the world."

"How you flatter, sir."

"It is true. Never in all my journeys have I encountered such beauty."

"Then your compliment means all the more, coming from a man who has seen much of the world."

"How can I tell you?" He spread a hand over his heart. "You are lovelier than the most delicate orchid bloom."

"Ah, Mr. Ramon, that is quite enough about me," I said, though my heart fluttered under his moony gaze. "What is it that brings you to San Francisco?"

"I am an importer of coffee." His held his head high. "Do you like coffee?"

"Yes, I do, though I'm woefully uneducated on the subject."

"You must permit me to teach you. Perhaps tomorrow I can take you for breakfast?"

And after breakfast Mr. Ramon insisted we dine that evening at the Palace. By then I'd learned he was a man accustomed to having his way. "Waiter," he snapped when we'd been sitting for only a few minutes, "the lady would like ..." He turned to me.

"I'll have a gla.s.s of champagne."

"And Pisco punch for me."

As the waiter trailed off, I said, "You are an adventurous man, Mr. Ramon. I've heard many stories about the famous Pisco punch."

"And all true." He flapped his hands in a grand but-of-course gesture. "But you must call me Juan. That is how my family and friends call me."

"Very well, then: Juan it shall be."

"And may I have the honor of calling you Pauline?"

"I should think that first names are quite in order, under the circ.u.mstances."

When his flaming drink of Pisco punch arrived, my handsome Mr. Ramon toasted to "life's pleasures," swirled the flaming drink in its gla.s.s, and, as the blue flames flickered out, brought the drink to his lips and gulped it down all at once.

I laughed. "You do embrace life, don't you?"

"Yes, and for dinner, I insist on the house specialty-roasted squab. And then I will hire a carriage, and we will go to the Cliff House."

"Ah, you will spoil me, Juan."

He leaned over the corner of the table and circled his hand around my fingertips. Fastening his glistening eyes on mine, he said, "That is exactly what I intend to do, mi florecita. You will not object, will you?"

SPOILED SPOILS.

SAN FRANCISCO-DECEMBER 1889APRIL 1890

Sue Marie didn't object to Juan's spoiling me-that is, not once she'd verified his status as a successful importer. By playing the part of an a.s.sistant to a coffee dealer and exploring possibilities for bringing more coffee business to San Francisco, she discovered that Mr. Ramon had made his mark on the city. And a few weeks later, after I stole a peek into his wallet and spied a picture of him with a woman and two little boys, Sue Marie's enthusiasm for our liaison was sealed.

"You have to get him into a compromising position," Sue Marie said, pacing our hotel room. "Ask for an apartment. And an allowance."

I relaxed in our room's overstuffed chair. "At the right moment."

Sue Marie stopped in her tracks in front of me. "The right moment, my f.a.n.n.y. We're almost broke."

"Where'd all the money go?"

The look she gave me could've scared a bear. "I need to eat, too."

Snuggling the folds of my robe over my legs, I said, "Some things take time."

"Listen," she said, looming over me. "While you're being wined and dined, I'm climbing streets steep as mountains and wringing every last drop out of our pennies."

"Fine, fine. I know what I'm doing. Let me play it my way."

"Yeah, you won the lead role-you'd better play it."

That evening, Juan and I stepped into a cabriolet outside the Palace, and Juan ordered the driver to the Poodle Dog. As we trundled through the city's misty rain, we pa.s.sed by department-store windows decorated with nativity scenes, and a caroling party strolling arm in arm. Still, save for the clomp of our horse's hooves, a glum quiet pervaded our carriage compartment.

I nestled up alongside Juan, who had been morose from the minute we'd stepped into the carriage. "Don't you love this time of year?"

I surmised he had not embraced the spirit of Christmas, for he clenched his hands on the tops of his knees and asked, "Why were you talking to Mr. Schmidt in the lobby?"

"Oh, him," I said, circling my hand around his arm. "He insists on exchanging pleasantries every time he sees me."

"You do not encourage him?"

"Goodness, no." I kissed his cheek, resolved to shower him with affection the rest of the evening. As my acquaintance with Juan deepened, the veneer of his charm had thinned, and the surliness of a wronged husband occasionally surfaced. "I haven't the slightest interest in any other man."

"I will take you away for Christmas, to San Diego."

Much as the prospect of escaping San Francisco's damp chill appealed to me, I couldn't abandon Sue Marie. Besides, our money was dwindling fast. "Travel again? I've barely gotten settled here."

"We would only stay long enough to warm up in the suns.h.i.+ne."

"What I'd really like is a home for you and me right here in San Francisco." I nestled my chin on his shoulder and looked up at him. "If I had an apartment with a kitchen, I could prepare coffee exactly as you like it. I could be waiting for you each day."

"No, we have my suite at the Palace."

"A hotel room," I said with a heaving sigh. "Please don't take offense, but it seems tawdry."

"An apartment is not practical."

"But you're away on business so much."

Juan stiffened beside me. "It makes no sense to pay for an apartment and my hotel when I travel."

I pressed one hand over my bosom. "Are you saying you don't want to spend the money on me? That I'm not worth it?"