Kilpara Page 6

  Maureen avoided direct questions about the O'Donovan family, admitting only that she had a brother. I intervened at critical moments, deflecting such questions away from her without drawing notice.

  Emmons was visibly relaxed. If his demeanor was any indication of how well things had gone in Louisiana and the potential for business there, then everything seemed favorable. He was enjoying the light conversation, interjecting comments now and then. I was grateful for this easy pace. He hardly paid any attention to Maureen since the Travers monopolized her company.

  At first glance, Emmons was not the sort of man who attracted attention except that he was impeccably dressed. He employed only the best tailors to make his clothes. He was short and round with a balding head, chubby face and sagging jowls that sat almost on his neck. His main aptitude was a mind that could calculate columns of numbers at a glance and he could analyze economical and political trends with absolute certainty. Tonight, with no obvious business debates to come between him and excellent dining, he concentrated solely on his food and filled his round stomach with gusto. With each bite of lobster, gasps escaped him that sounded like murmurs of contentment, like a cat purring in its owner’s lap.

  Clara sat beside me, her head moving from side to side so nothing escaped her. Small eyes darted round the table hardly missing an expression or a morsel of food. She was unfortunate in her looks. She did not inherit her father’s features, but took after her mother, which was no better fortune. Eloise was a tall, birdlike woman with brown wispy hair. A hairdresser had been employed to devote her talents to correct this problem. Emmons growled unceasingly about how much money his wife and daughter spent caring for their looks. He was disappointed that Eloise had produced only one child, and it had been a girl.

  He confided on different occasions to Ulrich and me that finding a compatible suitor for Clara was an impossible task. With none forthcoming to seek his daughter’s hand, he looked hopefully to us for explanation. When we remained silent, he retreated grumbling.

  Clara turned her eyes on me. “Ellis, you remember my birthday’s on Sunday? You’ll be at my party? And you must bring Maureen.”

  “Sunday? I wouldn't miss it.” With Mother on my mind, I had forgotten all about Clara’s birthday party. I glanced helplessly at Maureen who returned a spirited grin.

  Clara smiled enthusiastically at Maureen. “Say you’ll accompany us to the opera, Maureen. You’ll adore it. You can’t possibly miss it.”

  “What do you think, Ma—er—Ellis?” Maureen turned crimson at the near blunder.

  “You’ve had a rather long day—” I began.

  “Nonsense,” William Travers broke in. “Mrs. Travers and I are attending the opera ourselves, and we insist that Clara and Maureen join us in our box.”

  “Of course, they must,” Mrs. Travers agreed.

  “We accept your invitation,” Clara said, before Maureen or I could protest.

  “It’s settled then,” Travers announced. “I’ll escort the ladies to the opera.” He patted Maureen’s hand. “I’ll be the envy of every man with three beautiful women on my arm.” Clara gave a high-pitched giggle that took Maureen by surprise and she laughed. “No need to worry about this young lady, Ellis,” Travers said to me. “We’ll deliver her safely to your apartments afterwards.”

  When we left the restaurant, Travers ushered the women toward his carriage like a shepherd herding his flock. Maureen tried to look reassuring as she gave me a parting peck on the cheek. I uttered a hurried warning to take care what she said. She nodded meekly.

  There were few patrons at the Metropole when Emmons and I arrived. The stage was empty, too early yet for the girls and their routines. Some regulars were already established at the gaming tables, receiving individualized attention from the dealers. We claimed a table in a quiet corner and talked about minor matters throughout our first drink. When the second drink arrived, Emmons put his glass aside and leaned forward.

  “You’ve been looking glum all evening, Ellis,” he said. “What’s this all about?”

  “It’s Mother,” I said, pushing aside thoughts of Maureen and preparing myself for Emmons reaction. “She’s seriously ill. She wants me to take her back to Ireland—to die.”

  “I see.” Emmons leaned back in his chair and digested this information. After a moment lost in thought, he bent forward. “It’s a foolhardy idea. You’ve refused, of course.”

  “Yes, but she’s determined. She won’t budge in her decision.”

  “And your brothers?”

  “Not happy about it, but at a loss.”

  “I see,” Emmons said again, and I wondered if he did. He had a practical outlook. Sentimentality had no place in his life.

  “She expects you to oblige her request?”

  “My brothers can’t leave their families, or the farm, for so long.”

  “Tell her she can't go. You say she’s a sick woman. She's hardly in her right mind, after all.”

  “I wish I knew how to stop her.”

  “Insist, man. Demand it. You have commitments to your career.”

  “The doctor says it’s the only thing keeping her alive. It’s hard to deny her—”

  Emmons frowned. “Women are irrational most of the time. You must tell them what to do.”

  “That won't work with Mother. When she makes a decision, it’s impossible to get her to change her mind.”

  “Your father is to blame for letting her have her way too much. You’re considering this notion then?”

  “Yes, but I’m still hoping to change her mind.”

  Emmons stared ahead, his eyes cold. His opinion was obvious. I lacked control of the situation, the courage to forbid something as desperate as a dying request. “I expect you’ll be gone awhile if she persists,” he said, not too kindly.

  “Just long enough to deposit her into my aunt’s care in Ireland.”

  He gestured, waving his hand as if to brush Mother aside. “Do what’s necessary if you can’t overcome her resistance. Personally, I think you should tell her, no. But if you say you have no choice— Normally, I would find a temporary replacement in your absence, but since this is short term I think Ulrich can carry on minimally with a little extra coaching. How soon must you leave?”

  “Right away.”

  “Stay a week to instruct Ulrich and to bring me up to date.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  Emmons went on to talk about his trip to Louisiana and all the great possibilities that awaited there. He was well into this topic when Ulrich arrived. Soon afterward Emmons excused himself briefly, and I informed Ulrich of my mother’s condition and her plea. He nodded sympathetically. It was easy to see he viewed the situation differently than Emmons. He was devoted to his family and would honor their wishes above all else. When Emmons rejoined us, the conversation turned to capital and revenue expenditures once more.

  Toward the end of the discussion, Emmons announced he would curtail his visits to the South and spend more time at the agency during my absence. Even though this last trip had opened up new developments and opportunities, the business partners weren’t totally convinced of the invaluable cash benefit he had presented to them. His presence would give him ample opportunity to persuade them and much needed time to reassess business investments. With this decided upon, and other problems associated with my sabbatical resolved to his satisfaction, Emmons took his leave.

  After Emmons left, I caught sight of Astelle talking to customers. She moved easily and gracefully, and men admired her openly. She had a gracious smile for each of them. They didn’t know her well enough to notice the little lines around her eyes, the thickening of her waistline, or how her full face hinted a double chin. They believed she was still a relatively young woman. But, in truth, she approached middle age.

  She saw Emmons leave and came over. I introduced her to Ulrich. He took her outstretched hand and kissed it. Smiling, she led him to the cashier cage and offered him complimentary chips for the t
ables. Ulrich, who had never gambled before, looked to me for advice. “It’s a game of numbers just like finance,” I said. “Calculate the odds and you can’t lose.”

  “Don’t break the House the way Ellis did on his first visit,” Astelle said. “He almost ruined my profits.” She laughed and linked her arms with Ulrich’s and mine as we strolled toward the gaming tables.

  Astelle introduced Ulrich to the dealer at the craps table. While he concentrated on shooting dice, I told Astelle about Emmons’ invitation to dinner. “Maureen is so impressionable,” I said. “Emmons would have her for dessert if he knew her true identity. Luckily for us both, the Travers were there to save the day. They have my undying gratitude.”

  Astelle placed her hand over mine. “Relax. Maureen is a courageous and engaging young woman. Besides, she’s been a keen observer of O’Donovan etiquette since she was a child. She’s clever enough to survive a casual dinner with Emmons. You’re behaving like an over-protective older brother.”

  I followed Astelle upstairs soon after Ulrich admitted defeat at the gaming tables and departed. The business of customers was turned over to Rudy’s capable hands. As we lay in each other’s arms in the afterglow of lovemaking, I told her about my mother’s request. She looked sad when I talked about leaving and agreed with me that I had no choice but to oblige Mother's dying wish.

  I slipped back into my apartments around dawn, tiptoeing carefully past Maureen's door on the way to my bedroom. I was awakened sometime later by the sound of singing. I stumbled to the kitchen to find Maureen none the worse for wear from the previous evening. She removed eggs and bacon from the hot stove onto a plate, then picked up another plate of freshly baked bread and followed me to the dining table. I looked groggily at the food she placed before me. I was in no mood for food but ate automatically. How could anyone have so much energy this early in the morning I wondered as she fussed around me, jabbering like a blue jay.

  “You should have seen them, Mas—Ellis,” She said. “The costumes, so rich and colorful, and the stage so grand. And I’ve never heard voices so beautiful, so powerful yet so sad. It brought tears to my eyes. Mr. Travers said not everyone truly understands Le Nozze di Figaro. But if you get caught up in the sentiment and the singing, even though you don’t know the language, then you’ve learned to appreciate the art. I do, I did.

  “People were marvelously dressed. Looked like kings and queens, they did. And Clara is not so bad really. She ponders too much about why God gave some women perfect features and others none. I told her it wasn’t perfect features that counted in the end. Clara said that's easy for me to say because I’m beautiful.” Maureen paused to see the effect of her last words.

  I smiled my approval. “Haven’t I said so all along? Suitors will come galloping from all over to beg for your hand.” Maureen laughed a happy little laugh. She was radiant from the excitement of the previous evening. I wondered if, unwittingly, I had been cruel. If I had made a terrible mistake by allowing this simple country girl to taste the kind of world she could never be part of.

  “Clara has a funny sense of humor at times,” Maureen continued. “And she’s not at all anxious to marry. But her parents are disappointed a beau hasn’t come forward and asked for her hand.”

  She sighed. “Why must parents be so interfering?” Then dismissing the question, she picked up a notebook and became businesslike. “I’ve made several lists. One, of items you’ll absolutely need in Ireland, another, of items that should be stored in boxes so they don’t collect mold and dust while you’re away. A third list of how many dust covers you’ll need for furnishings, and lastly, a list of items you may want to take or leave behind.”

  I took the notebook from Maureen and offered to study it. I told her that Astelle had invited her for afternoon tea at the Cambridge Hotel. Astelle had said there was no harm in spoiling the poor girl a little, particularly since she came to the city to escape the glum at Stonebridge House. I had agreed with her at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Maureen was delighted by the request and said that people in Baltimore were very kind. “Mrs. Travers asked me to accompany her on morning walks in the park. I told her it depended on your agenda. She is sending a driver around and if I’m unable to go, I am to let him know.”

  “The movers won’t be here for two or three days.” I tried to think of a suitable excuse to keep Maureen occupied. Unable to come up with anything reasonable, I said. “If you’re really careful...”

  She smiled. “Mrs. Travers can go on for ages about her children. She’ll never notice if I don’t say anything. She was so kind last night. I feel I should repay her.”

  For all her defiance, it was easy to like Maureen. She had the same soft nature that reminded me of Eileen. Despite her fussiness when we were children, Eileen was ready with a hug or a word of encouragement when it was most needed. She made everything we said seem important, even managed to look serious when we went to her with our childish problems. Maureen had that same capacity. It was easy to see why people took to her.

  Ulrich was already at the office when I arrived. His usual calm manner began to waver when I described some of the questions he would encounter when dealing with the business partners.

  “It’s a huge responsibility explaining fiscal matters,” he said. “What if I answer incorrectly? I’m nervous just thinking about it.”

  “Don’t worry. Their questions are standard, I’ll prepare you. Mr. Emmons can easily deal with the more difficult issues.” Ulrich smiled stiffly and ran his hand through straight blond hair. “After you study the facts you’ll feel better,” I said.

  The day passed quickly and we worked well into the evening. When we parted ways, Ulrich’s confidence had begun to grow. At one point in the afternoon a telegraph boy delivered a telegram from Mother. The doctor had arrived at Stonebridge and was tending to her until her departure. She expected her affairs to be in order within a few days and asked how soon I was likely to return. She wanted me to be present with Dan and Mark when the terms of her will were announced in the presence of the lawyer. The decisiveness of her words made me realize the finality of recent events, leaving me overwhelmed. I replied that I must remain in Baltimore about a week.

  When I returned to my apartments, I opened the door to the smell of delicious cooking. Maureen took my overcoat, and I laid my attaché case on the desk in the library. I made sniffing noises causing Maureen to giggle. “There’s potatoes and a ham on slow roast in a sweet sauce in the oven,” she said. “I bought fresh parsnips at the market, and there’s custard and rhubarb for dessert.”

  “You’re amazing,” I said. Maureen beamed with pleasure.

  “Mams says it’s important to eat well. The menu is one of Miss Linden’s favorites.”

  “Miss Linden?”

  “I asked her to join you for dinner. It’s all right, isn’t it?” Maureen looked suddenly alarmed.

  “Yes, I’m just surprised she agreed.”

  “Said she’d be delighted,” Maureen confirmed, happily.

  I wondered why Astelle was breaking her number one rule which was never to visit a gentleman’s apartments. It started gossip, she said, and she wanted no part of that. She claimed it was more sensible to slip away to her apartments at the club; these were comfortable enough for any gentleman caller. In reality, Astelle feared becoming intimate enough with anyone to risk vulnerability. She had made an exception when she gave me a private key to her residence along with careful instructions for its use. To go against her wishes would mean an end to our friendship.

  Maureen looked around the apartments for something to fluff or smooth. She straightened the candles on the dining room table, sighing at the lack of softness in this masculine existence.

  “Did you know Miss Linden grew up in the country—in Ohio? On a farm?” she said, following me into the library. “She’s so cultured and has such grand manners. I wish I was like her.” She looked thoughtful. “You will stick to our agreement and find m
e a position?”

  “Yes,” I said, deliberately picking up the newspaper and opening it.

  Maureen retreated to the kitchen and I watched her leave over top of the printed headlines. This was the first time she had mentioned our arrangement since we arrived. I hoped that being away from Stonebridge, she would begin to miss it. If anything she seemed more determined to live in the city. I wondered how Seamus and Eileen would react to the news when we returned.

  My mind drifted to Astelle and the facts she withheld from Maureen about herself. Like running away at an early age from a strict father turned abusive. He had been too lazy or drunk most of the time to cultivate what land her family owned. She had found her way to Cleveland, where she met Maurice Linden, the owner of a dancing hall and gambling club. Maurice recognized her talent and turned her into the best attraction the club ever had. He was thirty years her senior and saw a jewel in the making, so he married her. Astelle told me about his passing away years later, and how she missed him desperately. He was everything to her; family, friend, and lover.

  After her grief subsided, she sold the business and looked to make a fresh start somewhere else. She chose to settle in Baltimore.

  Astelle arrived looking beautiful as ever in a mauve dress that made her eyes seem the same color. Maureen greeted her, accepted her wrap, then tactfully left us alone. We sat in the drawing room sipping drinks while Maureen attended to dinner. When it was ready, she summoned us to the dining room and served us.

  I sat across from Astelle, candlelight softening her skin so I could almost imagine her as a young girl.

  “How are Dan and Mark?” she asked. “Their wives and children are well?”

  “Yes. Your club seems busier than usual,” I said, not wanting to discuss my family or Stonebridge.

  “It is,” she agreed. “Rudy thinks now would be a good time to sell it. He says we can take the proceeds and buy a farm, go back to small town living, and be respectable again.”

  “You agree?”