The Last Honest Seamstress (25 page)

She gave him a quizzical look. "You suggested it the other day."

"I was joking, couldn't you tell?"

"How should I guess? A sign is good advertising."

"Yes, but not a sign with that wording. It's likely to get you arrested. Bigfoot Matt has posted signs with that wording in front of all her temporary brothels since she was burned out of the Tenderloin. The police continue chasing her from neighborhood to neighborhood. You know the prostitutes in this town call themselves seamstresses?"

"Of course I know! But why should I suffer such indignity because of a lowlife woman named Bigfoot Matt? In the prostitutes' caste system, she's at the bottom of the pile! Is there no honor in being a legitimate seamstress in this town? What am I, the last honest seamstress in Seattle?"

He shouldn't have smirked just then, but with ire firing her cheeks to deep pink and lighting her eyes with indignant passion she was too appealing.

"Sailors! Leave it to them to know what every whore in the city is up to!" She turned on her heel.
 

He grabbed her by the arm. "That's not fair, Fayth. You should be a little nicer to this sailor, especially since he just got you your money."

"No!" Her eyes lit up.
 

Because of the money, no doubt. Just once why couldn't it be for him?
 

"Where'd you get it?" She sounded suspicious.

He shrugged. "I have connections. You're back in business, dear lady."

A smile spread across her face. She gave him a quick hug, pulled back abruptly, and cleared her throat. "Thank you."

A pathetic hug was all he was going to get for his trouble?

"Now, do me a favor?" She nodded toward the end of the walk. "Get rid of that hideous sign before I have another caller."

"My pleasure." Con sighed as he headed down the walk where he kicked the offending sign down with one swing. He had meant to tell her the truth about the loans from Lou, but he'd never be able to now. Look how happy she'd been. He couldn't risk upsetting her. He'd just have to pay them off before Fayth found out about them. He picked up the offending sign and carried it out back to burn.

Several days after the incident with the sign, the Captain sailed off on another short run. When Fayth found a bill for the shipping company among the household mail, she unhappily went to the office to confront Mr. Tetch.

"Mr. Tetch, this bill was in the household mail. It's the shipping line's and it's overdue." The Captain's new office smelled of fresh construction, and debt, Fayth thought ruefully as she faced Silas Tetch at his desk, wishing the Captain weren't at sea. "My husband pays you a generous salary to run his business. It is your duty to see that all bills are paid on time, isn't it?"

He reached for the bill. She pulled it back out of his grasp. "Mrs. O'Neill, I assure you, it was no oversight on my part, and nothing for you to be concerned about. If you will entrust it to me, I will log it and pay it at the first opportunity funds are available."

"Aren't funds available now?"

Tetch cleared his throat self-consciously and squirmed. "They will be shortly."

She cocked one eyebrow. How she'd like to intimidate the sallow man. "Shortly? The Captain took out a generous loan. Enough to cover his building expenses. Where did that money go?"

"Mrs. O'Neill, the Captain's business dealings are vast, and complicated. He has the shipping part of the business as well as the pier, which generates income from moorage fees, and the warehouse. The smooth operation of all aspects were disrupted by the fire—"

"I'm well aware of the scope of his business, but that does not explain this." She shook the bill in front of him, wanting to shake him instead. What a condescending man! Why did the Captain keep him?

"Shipping is our primary source of income, Mrs. O'Neill, and also the one most affected by the fire. The Captain took his time resuming operations. Let me assure you, ma'am, that things will soon be righted now that Captain O'Neill is back at sea."
 

Tetch cleared his throat again. "Also let me assure you this is by no means an extraordinary, or foreboding, event. The cyclical nature of our business does not allow for regular, scheduled payments by our customers. We juggle bills from month to month, but we never keep our creditors waiting for payment more than two months. What with the fire, and the extra, unforeseen expenses we've incurred, it puts us into such a situation again."

"What unforeseen expenses? The Captain received an honest estimate of rebuilding costs and he was not affected by the change in the city ordinances."

Mr. Tetch stared past her. "Ah, but you were."

"What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Tetch? My expenses are my own, separate from Captain O'Neill's."

Mr. Tetch looked down at the desk. When he spoke, it was with a quiet, sympathetic tone. "The Captain is a fine sailor and an excellent captain, Mrs. O'Neill. What he is not is an expert businessman. Unfortunately, he does not understand that the business's money is the business's, not his personal funds."

"What are you saying? That he took money from his operations to cover my increased expenses?"

Tetch squirmed again. "I'm saying he has taken funds for personal use in the past. He doesn't seem to understand the concept of stealing from himself."

She shook her head in disbelief. The Captain would not behave so. Tetch lied. She saw it in his face. But why? To protect his boss? From what?

Mr. Tetch shrugged and opened the ledger in front of him. "The books are open, ma'am. Would you like to authenticate my claim?"

"No." Her stomach knotted with worry, but blast! She wasn't about to let Mr. Tetch see her fear.

"Shall I log the bill then?"

"No, I'll take it to the mill and pay it myself. There's no reason to make them wait for money that I apparently owe." She stuffed the bill back into her purse. "Mr. Tetch, I would appreciate it if you don't mention this incident to my husband."

He smiled sympathetically. "Of course not, Mrs. O'Neill."

She turned to leave. He rose to get the door for her.
 

"Thank you. Are there any more overdue accounts?"

"Not at this time, ma'am."

She nodded "All right then. Good day, Mr. Tetch."

She stepped out on the street, discouraged and unsettled. Could the Captain, as astute as he seemed, be inept at business? She frowned. Something about the situation did not feel right. A man of the Captain's integrity could not let his creditors hang, not when everyone needed money so badly. Was the Captain's business in trouble?
 

Her heart thudded in her ears. Were things worse than she knew? As strong as a memory brought back by a whiff of a familiar scent, a nameless emotion gripped her, so hopeless and consuming it deserved a hideous name. Shaded by memories of Drew, the business failing, and insecurities best forgotten, she shivered. The security of everything she had left rested with the Captain, but she couldn't let her imagination get the best of her. There was no proof of anything other than his struggle to get his business up and running again. Just like every other business in the city.

Had he, as Mr. Tetch implied, taken money from his own business to fund her second story? She'd been so happy when he'd gotten her the money that she hadn't pursued the source with much tenacity. Now, she wondered. She could hardly imagine he had robbed his own business. There hadn't been time enough for him to build up such profits, not even by juggling his bills.

Where had the money come from? Another loan from Mr. Finn would explain the shortfall in his business, if the Captain were paying the bank instead of other creditors. By that assumption, Mr. Tetch spoke the truth. But there was something about his mannerisms that made Fayth believe he did not. Nothing made sense.

"Coral's not up yet?" Lou scanned the group of young women eating their breakfast at the oversized table. "I'd better go wake her. The bar will be opening soon and I want all of you up and looking your best. If Coral doesn't get something to eat she'll be no good tonight."

What does the girl mean by sleeping so late?
Lou shuffled up the stairs.
Probably sick.
With the crowd she expected, the last thing Lou needed was to be short-handed. Lou reached Coral's door and knocked. No reply.
Come on, girl, wake up.
She knocked again, harder. "Coral, it's Lou. Open up."

"Go away, Lou. I'm not coming out today." The reply was half sob.
 

Lou's heart pounded. She cursed to herself.

"Coral." Lou barely kept the worried edge from her voice. "Open the door. I'm here to help." She heard slow shuffling and watched as the door handle turned. The door cracked open. Coral hid on the other side. Something was wrong. A bad client? Lou slid inside. Coral closed the door behind her.
 

The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Lou looked straight ahead, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, staring at the rumpled, blood-splattered bed in front of her. Coral breathed raggedly behind her, cowering against the door like a frightened child. Lou slowly turned toward her. In one sweeping gesture she scooped Coral into her arms and rocked her as maternally as she knew how.

"What did he do to you, baby? What did he do?"

Coral broke into full-scale sobs. Lou cradled and rocked her, giving her time to speak.

"He beat me up!" Coral's voice broke with despair.

"I can see that, honey, I can see. Why didn't you call for help? Use what I taught you about self-defense?"

"It happened too fast. I lost consciousness before I could react. When I woke up, I was too stunned and embarrassed to face the other girls. I knew you would come looking for me."

Lou slid her hand under Coral's chin and guided her face up to survey the damage. "Did he abuse you sexually?" It seemed an odd question, given their line of work, but Coral understood what she meant and shook her head. Lou let out an audible breath.

"The bastard! Damn him! Nobody beats up my girls! I shouldn't have trusted my youngest girl with a newcomer!" She looked again into the girl's face. "Can you breathe through your nose, or is it broken?"

"I don't know. I look terrible, don't I?"

"You do." Lou never held back the truth of a situation. Coral's left eye was swollen shut, her nose a bruised, bloody mess. "But it can be fixed. How about your ribs? The rest of you? Did he kick you?"

Lou thought the girl would break into tears again, but she held up long enough to answer. "No, just my face. My face! Mean drunk, took his anger out on me." The girl shuddered in her arms.

"Try to forget; don't let it haunt you. We'll take care of him later." Lou thought a moment. "You need a doctor. I don't think you're seriously hurt, but we want to be sure, and we need to see to your injuries. We'll have to get you out of the house until you pretty up again. We don't want the customers or the other girls upset. This stays under our hats, do you understand?"

Coral nodded. "But what will you tell the girls?"

"As convenient a partial truth as I can muster. They'll have to be warned about the danger, told something of what went on." She paused in thought. "Do you think Fayth can take you in for a few weeks? She owes us both a favor."

Coral nodded.

"Good. Get yourself dressed. I'll send for the carriage. You better be off to Fayth's at once. I'll arrange for Dr. Wall to meet you there." She gave Coral one final hug meant to encourage and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. She headed for the steps, fierce with anger.

"I hope you're long gone, mister," she said aloud, "because as soon as word gets out on the street that Lou's got herself a bad john, your comeuppance has been determined. And it won't be pretty; no, it won't."

Fayth sat in a chair facing Coral, hemming a skirt, still shocked by Coral's arrival. Coral watched from her inclined position in Fayth's bed. Dr. Wall had left, having pronounced Coral's injuries superficial and prescribing a few days of bed rest to calm the patient. Fortunately, the Captain was at sea. Fayth would have time to set up a room for Coral before he returned. She could not let Coral return to Lou's house. Coral would have to live with them until Fayth could establish her in some other profession and location. Where else was there for her to go?

Yet, even as Fayth made her plans, she felt trepidation about having a prostitute live with them. What would the Captain say? What would Elizabeth and her friends think? Her clients, what of their opinions? Fayth walked a delicate balance. She pushed her worries aside.

For now, as Fayth sorted through her feelings, Coral provided a convenient barrier between Fayth and the Captain. And heaven knew, she needed one. The Captain was never out of her thoughts long.

"I was thinking I might teach you to sew while you recover." Fayth set the skirt down.

"I'd rather learn to draw. Remember the fun we had before the fire? The beautiful sketches of gowns you drew, and the suggestions I made?"

"I do. And I'll teach you to draw, but I think we should make learning to sew a priority. It's a more practical skill."