Peacemakers (Peacemaker Origins Book 1) (9 page)

Mink Callahan

June 9, 1914

Estate of Ronald Thomason IV

Chicago, Illinois

The sun drowned in Lake Michigan, turning it an eerie purple and making the city of Chicago look as though it were constructed entirely of shadows.  Mink stood alone on her veranda in a green tea-length cocktail dress.  With her red hair down and sparkling topaz jewelry on, she looked like a displaced mermaid pining for her home. 

“Darling!” the familiar voice said behind her. “Sweetheart!  How I have missed you.”  Mink turned to embrace her husband.  He grabbed her hands and kissed her delicately on the cheek instead.  The whiskers from his white sideburns were as soft as conditioned goose feathers.  The older, short pot-bellied man wore a three-piece navy-blue pinstripe suit with a bright red tie and matching red carnation on his lapel.  “I am so sorry to have missed dinner,” he continued. “Tell me, how was your trip to the South?  I want to hear all about it!” 

“It is wonderful to see you again, husband” Mink replied.  “My trip was productive to say the least.  I even ran into an old acquaintance of mine—”

“Wonderful!  I hope it was reposeful for you,” Ronald Thomason interrupted.

“Yes, well, will you be joining me for drink, then?” Mink asked.  “I would very much like to catch up on all your goings-on.”

“I am terribly sorry, darling, but I’m playing cards with Marcus this evening. Perhaps tomorrow. Oh wait, I have a meeting tomorrow evening with Leiber Textiles.  We are discussing the reupholstering of some of our first-class cabins.  You will absolutely love their fabric.  A daisy yellow and amethyst purple.  Bright and uplifting to the weary passenger!” 

“Understandable.  Perhaps Sunday then?” Mink asked.

“Sweetheart, I am profoundly sorry, but I will be at the lodge on Sunday.  How about this?  I will clear my schedule for Monday and we will go sailing for the day.  Doesn’t that sound wonderful?  Plan for a two o’clock launch, and we shall return only when we have watched the sunset together, my darling. I will make sure James has the boat ready and looking marvelous.  And speaking of marvelous, I did have James prepare something special for you this evening, assuming our ice house isn’t knee-deep with water yet.”

“Very well,” Mink said. “I shall look forward to our sailing adventure on Monday.”

“By the way, have you seen Reginald since your return?” Ronald asked.

“I have not,” Mink answered.

“Well, he and his college friends are downstairs in the parlor. If you don’t mind, ensure that he does not . . . “redecorate” the place again.  The repairs were quite costly last time,” Ronald said.  He grabbed her hands once more, smiled and kissed her other cheek this time.  “Good evening, darling.”  The mighty captain of industry, a man who built his fortune on iron and on the backs of those who hammered it, waddled back inside.

Ronald Thomason IV was the youngest of six siblings in the Thomason family, and the only one remaining.  Ronald III, his only brother, was the eldest and was once heir to Thomason Railways.  He died fighting for the Union in the Civil War.  He was only 19 when gangrene consumed him after losing both arms.  Of his four older sisters, two died in childbirth, another of tuberculosis, and sweet Camilla strangled in broad daylight on Michigan Boulevard by her abusive husband.  She was only 20.  That left Ronald IV; once the shy, awkward child who liked nothing more than playing with dolls and being dressed up by his sisters, to lead Thomason Railways into the next century.  And lead he did, creating an empire and fortune his father could have only imagined.  The curious socialites and his lack of an heir were his only problems; the solutions to which were an adopted son and Mink Callahan.

James Penny, the house butler, walked onto a veranda with a towel over his arm, holding a drink in an odd-shaped glass.  His large hands gave the chilled glass to Mink.  “Your drink, ma’am.  Mr. Thomason insisted I make it for you.”

“How kind of you, Jimmy.  What is it exactly?” Mink asked.

“It’s called a martini, ma’am.  It is all the rage in New York,” James replied.

Mink took a sip.  “A potent concoction, to be sure.  It’s delicious, Jimmy, thank you.”

“You hate it, don’t you?”

“It’s dreadful,” Mink replied, laughing.  “Do we have any bourbon?”

James waved toward the French doors that led inside. Laura, a plump older maid in a long gray dress and white apron, shuffled outside with a tumbler of bourbon and ice chips.  “I took the liberty, ma’am.  I hope you don’t mind,” James said before he smiled and bowed.  Laura, who looked like the grandma Mink never had, handed the glass to her.

“Thank you, Miss Laura, you are most gracious,” Mink said.

“Yes, ma‘am.  Good to have you back again,” Laura replied heading back to the door.  “Now if you excuse me, that little bastard and his friends require another round.”

“Jimmy, you are always good company,” Mink declared.  “Do take this martini and join me.”  James—the gruff Southside Chicago native and former champion boxer with penchant for Dickens novels and bawdy jokes—sat down with Mink and enjoyed his martini.

“Jimmy,” Mink said, “Why does my husband find Marcus better company than me?”

“Well, ma’am, Marcus is your husband’s most trusted accountant.  He is a cold and calculatin’ man who just happens to be a horrible card player,” James replied.

“Then why play with him?  Where is the sport in that?” Mink asked.

“Because when Marcus loses, Mr. Thomason wins back his own money,” James said.

Mink laughed.  “Now tell me this, Jimmy, what goes on at his lodge?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Nonsense.  You must drive him there at least two nights a week,” Mink countered.

“He has me wait outside, or in the lobby when it’s cold.  I only hear bits and pieces of his exploits.  The Free Masons are . . . strange folk, ma’am.  I’m inclined to think it is just an excuse for men to drink and boast.  Still, they must have one hellova good view.  The lodge itself is on the 22
nd
floor.”

“Why must men congregate the way they do?  How do they benefit by being so distant from their families?”

“Not sure,” Jimmy replied.  “Perhaps that Darwin fella’ might have a better explanation for you.”

Mink took a small sip.  “Oh please.  The man who professes we come from monkeys?  I hardly think so!  Well, do tell me,” she changed the subject, “is there any uplifting news since my absence?”

“A letter arrived from your sister yesterday.  I am sure she is requesting another visit to meet her and her hopeful future husband.  I will have the letter brought to your room before you retire this evening.”

“Ah, a trip to New York City might be nice, indeed.  I probably should meet this suitor of hers.  Perhaps I could even have another . . . what was it called?”

“A martini, ma’am.”

“Yes, a martini.  Perhaps I will have to stomach one with my dear sister.  It must be four years since I last saw her.  Tell me, Jimmy, what kind of sister am I?  The only family I have in this world is coming into her own—finding love—and I am . . . here.”

“No need to worry,” James said, after taking a gulp of his martini.  “’Here’ isn’t so bad.”

“No.  I suppose not.”

“Besides,” James said, “were you ever young and in love?  When a young person is in love, they seldom think about anything else, even their own family.  Did you ever know that feeling?”

“Funny.  I did have one love growing up, yes.  And you are right.  He is all I ever thought about.  As a matter of fact, I saw him again on my recent trip to the South,” Mink said.

“Ah, an old flame.  Were there still sparks between you?”

“You could say that,” Mink said.  “We were very young.  He was 17.  I was 15 and madly in love.  But on the day we were to elope something terrible happened, a tragedy.  We were supposed to marry at our secret place, deep in the swamp, where Madame Sweetooth said she would bind our spirits together forever.  It sounds so ridiculous now, but when I was on my way to meet him, I saw a crowd gathered around his house.  I ran down to see what happened . . . and his mother was lying there in the grass, her neck contorted in the most impossible way, bleeding out her nostrils with her baby in her arms.  The baby . . . it was white and cuddled in her arms . . . even in midair she refused to let go of him . . .” Tears ran down her cheek, and her mascara ran with it, dyeing her cheeks charcoal. But she was not embarrassed, not around Jimmy. 

“She jumped off the roof with her baby, Jimmy.  I can never forget the sight.  It haunts me to this day.”  Mink downed the rest of her bourbon.

“No one knows why really,” she continued.  “She just jumped.  I knew Wage would be devastated.  He adored his mother dearly, and he cherished baby Wyatt.  So I ran to the swamp, dreading to tell him, but I was too late; I never found him.  I ran back to town as fast as I could.  I thought it might be a dream, but my legs were swift and untiring, not heavy.  I found him.  I found him, Jimmy.  He had run into town, apparently, got himself drunk and went to Ms. Lilly’s cathouse.”  She paused to wipe her cheek and take a deep breath.  “Ms. Lilly’s was a vile place, luring all those men away from their families.”  Mink violently threw her bourbon glass over the veranda.  A faint breaking of glass could be heard on the street below.

  “He thought I stood him up, left him at the altar.  I don’t know, I guess he decided to drown his sorrows.  I saw him that night, Jimmy, through the windows, drinking and carousing with Miss Lilly’s girls.  He still had no idea that his mother was dead.  I wanted to tell him.  I wanted to tell him, but I was filled with all kinds of emotions.  I ran for him, all night, but after seeing him there . . . I almost wanted him to suffer.  I wanted him to suffer, Jimmy.”  She tried to take another breath, but wheezed instead, just like the night she saw him at the cathouse.  A minute later, she composed herself.

“From what I understand, he found out the next morning.  He wouldn’t talk to me at the funeral.  As a matter fact, he didn’t talk to me until about three days ago.  The last time I saw him was just a few months after that. He was at the train station with his father.  It was raining something fierce, too.  Wage was being sent to Paris to study, a benefit of being a Pascal, I guess.  We never spoke, but I remember him waving at me as his train left the station.  The sad little girl that I was, I thought maybe for a minute he might jump off that train and come back to me . . . tell me everything was going to be all right.  That minute became hours.  I near caught my death standing out there in the rain.”  Mink’s Louisiana accent had come out, something she tried to hide ever since moving to Chicago’s most prestigious neighborhood.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’, that is one hellova of a story, ma’am,” James said. 

“Yes.  One I haven’t revisited in a while,” Mink replied.  “But it was a long time ago and really should be of no concern now.”

“The past is meant to give us strength, ma’am, not sadness,” James said. 

“It seems I am unable to be strong at the moment,” Mink said.  “If you will excuse me, Jimmy, I should check in on Reginald.”

“Wait,” Jimmy said.  He used his towel to delicately wipe away the mascara streaks from her cheeks.  “Wouldn’t want the bastard to see you like this.”

Mink cradled his hand.  “Sometimes, Jimmy, I think you are my only friend.”

She gracefully walked down the stairs to the parlor near the front door.  She rounded the corner to see two young men wrestling by the billiard table.  They were grunting and breathing hard, one trying to submit the other.  Three other men were watching them and cheering as they drank.  All of them wore matching white fraternity sweaters with blue stripes on the arms. 

Reginald stood on the other side of the room, smiling and sipping his adopted father’s finest scotch.  He was the true son of a railroad worker and school-aged girl.  A school-aged girl whose station in life was uplifted by providence only after Reginald’s father went to prison and his mother was told she was too young to raise him.  Ronald Thomason IV swooped in, gave the mother a large sum of money, and in adopting her son, made him the sole heir to a veritable fortune.  He was a true bastard—the luckiest damn bastard on earth.

Mink cleared her throat.  “Excuse me, gentlemen.  I thought I would pay you a visit before retiring for the evening.”  Both wrestlers ceased and fell over, huffing.  “And if it is not too much trouble, please mind the furniture and walls; they are costly to repair.”

“Ah mother, you have returned!”  He embraced his mother tightly, uncomfortably.  He nuzzled her neck and squeezed her backside.  “I have missed you terribly.”

  Mink stifled her reaction and pushed him away curtly.  “Now, now, Reginald.”

“Forgive me,
mother
.  You remember my friends from school,” he said, slurring.  “There are Tommy and Donny, the combatants.  The first one to submit still loses five dollars, gents!  And of course over here we have Kevin and Lance.”  Kevin was well-fed while Lance was more dashing, with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that reminded her of Wage.  “We call ‘em Big K and Sir Lancelot.” 

Sir Lancelot approached her and kissed her hand, leaving a residue of alcohol, “Reggie, your mother grows more enchanting by the day.”