Calico Palace (70 page)

“He said modestly,” Marny explained, “that he could give her ‘a single room, quite comfortable.’ You’ll note he said a
single
room. He doesn’t want her to bring a gentleman friend.”

“Has she got a gentleman friend?” asked Kendra.

“I don’t know,” said Marny, “but he’s taking no chances. I believe Norman has hopes.”

One of the barboys delivered the letter to Hortensia. He brought back an answer, written in a firm hand with only two misspelled words. Hortensia said if Mr. Norman Lamont would call for her she would visit the Calico Palace and discuss his offer.

Norman called for her that same afternoon, and brought her to the Calico Palace. Before asking about the salary or her hours of work, Hortensia said she wanted to see the promised bedroom. With wonder in her eyes she noted the rainproof window sash, the sturdy walls, the absence of rats. She exclaimed, “Why Mr. Lamont, it’s like New Yor—” and interrupted herself. “Has the door got a key? And a bolt?”

Norman reluctantly said yes.

They went into his office and conferred about terms. Afterward, Norman walked with Hortensia to the Dramatic Museum, in time for her to prepare for her evening show.

“What did she say?” Marny asked eagerly when he came back.

Norman gave an expressive Latin shrug. “She said she’d think it over and let me know. What she meant was, she would give the theater chap his chance to offer her more than I did.”

For a week, Norman and the theater chap bargained for Hortensia. Hortensia stood aside. She gave her show every evening, and after the show she came into the office of the theater chap, bringing her workbasket. While the two men argued Hortensia sewed. She rarely said anything. She merely sat there, like a lady cat who lets two tomcats fight over her, serenely washing her face while she waits to bestow her favors on whichever torn will win the duel.

Only once did her cool reserve show a crack. This was the evening of another church fair, this one in the armory of the California Guard on Dupont Street.

The purpose of this fair was to raise money for the unsuccessful miners who were staggering off the river boats, starving and sick. Norman and the theater chap were talking business. In a corner of the office, calm as ever, Hortensia sat with her sewing. All of a sudden a flutist known as Buster came rushing in to tell them the news.

Buster said the fair had been proceeding in the most refined manner, when who should drop in to spend money but the owner of the El Dorado and his girl friend, madame of one of the town’s more elegant brothels. How the church ladies recognized the girl friend, nobody was able to state. But recognize her they did. The ladies closed their booths and told their husbands the fair was ended. The miners might be sick and starving, but this was not important compared to such an affront to themselves. They were not going to sell their fancywork in the presence of Any Such Woman.

At this point in Buster’s story, from the corner of the room came a sputter of mirth. Her head against the back of her chair, her face buried in the crook of her elbow, Hortensia was shaking with giggles.

The three men began to laugh with her. “What did the husbands do?” asked Norman. “Did they order her to leave?”

“They didn’t
order
her to do anything,” answered Buster. “I guess they were afraid the El Dorado man might start shooting. They just
talked
to him, man to man. They explained to him how it was. They told him, if he didn’t take her out, they didn’t know
what
the ladies might do.”

“I don’t know either,” murmured Norman.

“So he took her away,” said Buster. “When she was gone the ladies opened the booths again. I guess they are still selling fancy-work.”

“Somebody is going to sell me a drink,” said Norman. “I’ll treat all round. What’ll you have, Hortensia?”

Business talk was over for the evening. However, it was resumed the next day. Two days later Hortensia agreed to come to the Calico Palace.

When Marny heard about the incident at the fair, she said to Norman, “Please find out for me, was one of the ladies present named Mrs. Posey?”

Norman made inquiry and told Marny she was right. “How did you know?”

Marny patted the pocket where she carried her cards. “Maybe the cards told me,” she answered.

Hortensia came to the Calico Palace in time to play the piano at Christmas. Later, when they knew her better, she told Marny and Kendra that she had made up her mind to accept Norman’s offer as soon as she saw that cozy bedroom. But Norman did not know this and neither did the theater chap. She had been quite willing to keep them in suspense a few days while they pushed up the price.

Kendra was amused, Marny admiring. “Just what I would have done myself,” said Marny. “I told you she had sense.”

When Hortensia moved into the cozy bedroom she moved in alone. Hortensia had no gentleman friend. She told Marny and Kendra she had left New York because of trouble with a gentleman there. She had bought her own steamer ticket and had crossed the Isthmus with no escort. “The whole party stayed together,” she said. “I didn’t need a man then and I don’t need one now.”

In the parlor she laughed and flirted, but she guarded her bedroom key. However, Norman still had hopes.

“At least,” Marny said thoughtfully to Kendra, “I’ve noticed that since she came to us, Norman’s temper has improved.”

Marny had warned Kendra that Christmas would be a big day, which meant—for the staff of the Calico Palace—an exhausting one. “Holidays are for fun,” said Marny, “but they’re hard on the people who sell the fun. You’d better do extra baking for a couple of days in advance, and you’ll be baking from dawn to midnight Christmas Day.” She gave Kendra’s hand a sympathetic pat. “Sorry, dear, but that’s the way it is.”

Kendra was not sorry. Christmas was not going to be a happy anniversary for her. She was glad she would be too busy to brood over her heartbreak of a year ago.

On the evening of Christmas Day, Hiram wandered into the kitchen. “Mind if I stop for a few minutes?” he asked.

Kendra was mixing a fresh bowl of batter while a batch of her cupcakes baked in the oven. “Glad to have you,” she said, with a gesture toward the stove. “I’ve made coffee for Marny when she comes in for a rest. Pour a cup for yourself.”

Hiram did so. “Won’t you have one?”

“Not yet,” she returned, laughing a little as she stirred the batter. “Not until I get those cakes out of the oven and these in. Then I can sit down.”

Hiram carefully placed his big self on a chair and sipped coffee. Lolo came in with empty trays and stayed to grease the pans for the cakes Kendra was mixing now. Hiram watched as they worked. “I’d offer to help,” he said in a voice of apology, “but I don’t know how.”

“I don’t need you,” Kendra assured him. “You manage a bank, which I can’t; I cook, which you can’t.”

Hiram good-naturedly agreed. In spite of the stout walls, the racket from the first floor rose to meet the racket from Marny’s parlor, where Hortensia was pounding the piano with all her might. Other sounds of mirth suggested gleeful parties in the private card rooms. Marny came in, mopping her brow with her handkerchief. She plopped herself into a chair and sighed gratefully as Hiram set a cup of coffee before her. They heard a burst of laughter from somewhere, and Hiram commented,

“Business sounds good.”

“Business is stupendous,” said Marny. “And tomorrow we’ll do more business, selling fizz-powders at the bar.” She sipped her coffee complacently. “I don’t think the fizz-powders do any good, but the boys imagine they feel better if they take something. Especially something that tastes bad and costs money. So, I’m glad to oblige.”

Kendra took the cakes out of the oven, put a plateful on the table, and arranged the rest on the trays Lolo had brought in. While Lolo carried the trays into the parlor Kendra put the fresh pans into the oven. Hiram brought her a cup of coffee and she sat down at the table. They all three began to munch hot cupcakes.

“Aren’t these luscious?” Marny exclaimed.

Hiram said Kendra was the best cook in the world.

When Marny had gone back to her card game, Hiram told Kendra he had come here to bring her an invitation. Tomorrow, while tonight’s merrymakers were taking fizz-powders, wouldn’t she take dinner with him at the Union Hotel?

“I can’t promise a meal as good as those you cook,” said Hiram, “but it’s the best restaurant in town, and it’s not bad. We can have an early dinner and go to a show.”

“I’d like that,” said Kendra. She looked straight at him across their empty cups. “You’re good to me, Hiram,” she said sincerely.

“No I’m not,” said Hiram. He spoke with decision. “I enjoy your company.” He paused a moment and added gravely, “And I’m proud if I can help you do what you’re already doing so well.”

“Thank you,” Kendra said in a low voice. She paused a moment, and then added, “I don’t want to talk about last year—that’s too hard—but you do help, Hiram.”

“That’s all I need to know,” he returned. He pushed back his chair. “Thanks for the goodies. Now I’ll run along.”

He stood up, turned as if to leave, hesitated, and turned back to face her, standing with his big hands holding the back of his chair.

“Kendra, I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he blurted, and stopped.

She said, “Yes, Hiram?”

“I’ve been putting it off,” he said jerkily, “because—well, I didn’t know how to say it. I still don’t know how. I think a lot of you—I’m sure you know that—but just why I like you so much—it’s hard to find words for it.”

As she looked up at him Kendra’s lips parted in astonishment. Not because Hiram had told her he liked her—as he had said, she knew this already—but for the first time since she had known him she saw Hiram actually looking bashful.

“But, all the same,” said Hiram, “I want to tell you.”

He went on, looking more bashful as he proceeded.

“Kendra, you belong to a special group of people. Rare people.” He shifted his feet. “I learned a lot,” he said, “when I was on the
Cynthia.
There were some old sea-dogs aboard that ship. They had a term for the sort of man they respected most. They said, ‘He can take the wind as God sends it.’ That’s the group I’m talking about. The rare people who can take the wind as God sends it. And you can take it.”

Startled, she protested swiftly. “I’m not that good, Hiram! I do try, but—”

“—but you
can
take it!” he broke in, almost angrily. His hands were tight on the chair back. “You’re one of them. It’s like—well, like a club. The most exclusive club on earth. Nobody can get in who doesn’t belong. And by damn, Kendra, you belong.”

He stopped short. Kendra did not answer because she could not. Her throat had closed up. Hiram drew a long hard breath. After a moment he exclaimed,

“I know, Kendra. Other people—people like me—we can tell who belongs. Even though we don’t.”

Kendra had heard him with growing surprise. She had been fairly stunned into silence; then as he spoke his last line it was as if her amazement exploded into words. She cried out,

“But you do belong, Hiram!”

He shook his big untidy head. “No,” he said. He spoke in a quiet voice, strange after the vehemence of what he had just been saying. “No,” he repeated. He added with a rueful little smile, “I’m trying to get into the club. But I’m not in yet.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “Why not?”

Hiram shook his head again. He gave her another regretful smile. “If I had guts enough to tell you, Kendra,” he said, “I’d belong.”

Then he pushed, he almost threw, the chair against the table, and turned around.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, and banged the door as he went out.

When Hiram called for her the next evening he said nothing more about the most exclusive club on earth. He was in good spirits, but he kept the conversation on everyday subjects.

Their dinner at the Union Hotel was excellent, and in the dining room Kendra saw some of the wealthiest men in town. She remembered how, on their way back from Shiny Gulch, Hiram had told her he intended to get rich. He was evidently doing so. Not many men, in San Francisco or anywhere else, could pay such prices as those of the Union Hotel.

After dinner they went to the play at the Jenny Lind. When it was over Hiram walked with her back to the Calico Palace, and she thanked him for a pleasant evening.

This was exactly what it had been. Pleasant, but not outstanding. Kendra had a vague feeling of disappointment.

In the days that followed, Hiram came into the Calico Palace as often as before. He bought drinks and played cards, and several times he and Kendra went again to dinner and a play. But he made no reference to what he had said to her Christmas evening. It was as if he wanted to forget he had said it. Kendra kept away from the subject, since it was plain that he wanted her to do so, but she did wish she could understand him.

They all had many other matters to talk about. The weather was proving amazingly agreeable. Everybody who had slogged through last year’s mud had dreaded the return of the rainy season, but this winter they were having little rain and many days of sun. Pocket and Hiram both said their business was good. The Calico Palace was full every night. While Hortensia did not play the piano as well as Rosabel, she played quite well enough to please the bons garçons in the parlor. Every evening a group of listeners gathered around her, and to Marny’s astonishment, Captain Pollock was often among them.

Heretofore, Captain Pollock had stayed away from the Calico Palace. At least, he had not been into Marny’s parlor, and if he had patronized the tables in the big public room downstairs, nobody had told her about it. When he came into the parlor now, he stayed away from her card table. He would spend a while at some other game, go to the bar for a drink, and glass in hand, join the men by the piano. Marny recalled that she had seen him in the audience the first time she had heard Hortensia play. As Pollock had no scruples about lady-chasing when he was in port, Marny wondered if he was one of those who hoped Hortensia would relax her present chaste behavior.