Michael Quinn

by Caleb Borne

  His eyes widened and he actually managed a smile, even if it was fawning. “Yes, yes, by all means. I’ll get the invitation out today. Thank you for joining us.”

  “It was my pleasure.” I meant it.

  Kathleen

  Mother reserved The Campbell House two years in advance. Its Greek revival columns supported a portico where valet parking relieved the guests of any responsibility but walking inside and heading to the dining room for glasses of iced sweet tea and a plate of finger sandwiches. Mother had the best of taste. She’d reserved one hundred of the guest rooms for the females to use as dressing rooms and later, if they were so inclined, to spend the night while the men played poker or shot billiards in the area she’d designated for them. She wanted none of their cigar smoke or cussing where pure debutantes would be resting.

  Naturally, she had reserved the largest suite of rooms for us at the end of the most private hallway. She brought a woman from her salon to do my hair and the faintest dusting of make-up. Maids tip-toed in and out with trays of more of those tempting finger foods, lemonade and the traditional sweet tea. At my request, Della was given the room next to ours and we’d opened the adjoining door so we could gossip and swap admiring compliments.

  The Ball was to be held in the Promenade Room which had its own pre-built stage and over twenty-five thousand square feet of kitchens, dining space and a parlor for the ladies with a smoking room for the men. It was storied that the Junior League had once sneaking a winning thoroughbred into the hotel so it could drink champagne from a bathtub. Although it was the 60s, Kentucky fought to retain its old traditions. For some people, it was all that kept them from being impoverished—mentally, as well as financially.

  It was required that all the debutantes wear white and would be introduced, one at a time and then walked across the stage, accompanied by her own father or, lacking that, the male head of her family. For the young gentlemen who would attend, it was by invitation only. I could only think how upset I would have been had Michael not come by the farm until after the ball had taken place. It was, after all, my entry into the world.

  I grew more nervous as the ball’s opening approached. We could hear the small orchestra playing. I prayed Daddy wasn’t too drunk and that Mama had seen to it that he was wearing his boutonniere properly. Everything had to go perfectly.

  Bella looked lovely, and I told her so several times. She had a bit of an insecurity complex because she was very developed for a young woman. Her mother had helped her choose a rather low-cut dress with a cinched waist to show off her assets. I might have been a little less showy, but any man who preferred that body type would certainly be able to pick her out plainly.

  My own dress was less formal; a silk, white sheath that reached to just below my knees. Mama had given me a long strand of her pearls as a celebratory gift and my light, blonde hair had been fashioned into a complicated coronet of braids and tiny pink rosebuds. When I looked into the mirror I saw the required innocence, but also a bit of a Hollywood vamp—exactly what I hoped to display.

  Most of all, I was excited for my friends to meet Michael. Although each girl was permitted more than one accompanying gentleman, Butch knew instinctively that I wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship with him. Michael, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

  The hour finally came and all down the corridors you could hear mothers slapping their gloved hands to hasten their debs into the single line that would enter the room. Mama, as cunning as she was, had put us in the largest suite which put me at the back of the line. She had, in her own way, orchestrated things so that I would be the grand finale.

  I don’t think Mama was as interested in getting me married as she was pulling off the social coup of the season. There had been pageants, lavish birthday parties with ponies, clowns and seven-course meals. She’d been making me into a social butterfly since I was five or six; she missed being that herself. I’d once overheard a woman who played Euchre with Mama say behind her hand that Mama had to settle for Daddy as he’d been a disappointment to his family, but the only heir they had. When I heard that, I didn’t know if I felt more sorry for Mama, or for Daddy.

  The excitement had been building all afternoon. Two of the girls got sick all over the floor from nerves and had to be taken back to their rooms; their gowns ruined. Even Della looked like a cat about to be drowned. I happened to thrive on such things and it meant the end of my long boring childhood and my entry into the world in which I was in charge.

  The line entered the room slowly as each girl was paraded and then led to stand at the far end of the stage until everyone had entered. It was finally my turn and I heard a few slight gasps. I imagined it was due to my somewhat 30-ish style of my dress. Daddy was fairly steady on his feet and we made it through the processional and then finally, down to the tables for dinner. Michael was waiting, dressed in a black tuxedo and I thought my heart would burst through my chest with pride. I hardly even noticed Butch, but when I did, he looked sad and forgotten. I felt badly for him. When dessert had been served, I boldly stood and turned to Butch. “Would you lead me in for the first dance?” By rights it was Daddy’s job, but he’d passed the line to drunkenness somewhere between the fourth and fifth course. I saw Michael stiffen and I hoped he understood. Butch’s face lighted up and he was preening as he ushered me through the tables and onto the dance floor as the orchestra struck up their first—a waltz. I saw panic on Butch’s face. “Would you rather sit this one out?” I asked.

  “No-no, it’s fine,” he mumbled and promptly stepped on my toe. He held out his arms for me and fumbled the steps. I felt myself pushing and pulling him along to save him embarrassment. Near the end, he got too excited and galloped; right to the edge of the dance floor. This brought him upright quickly and he promptly fell, pulling me down with him.

  There was a gasp through the room as debs and mothers craned their necks to see if I’d been hurt. Not all of them were as worried as they appeared, but sat back with a look of satisfaction.

  “May I?” I heard a deep voice and looked up. Michael stood over me, his hand extended. I nodded and he helped me to my feet.

  I turned to check on Butch, who had already crawled a few feet away and was getting up with the aid of an empty chair, his face flushed and his bow tie loose and dangling.

  Michael didn’t hesitate, but swept me away for the remainder of the waltz as though it had been he with whom I’d began it. “Thank you,” I said quietly, but loudly enough that he heard me over the music.

  “Why did you choose him over me? I’m going to assume you were being sympathetic?” His dark eyes felt like I was in the crosshair of a plunging eagle.

  “Of course. Butch doesn’t have a girl and I couldn’t leave him sitting by himself all night.”

  Michael nodded his approval, held me more tightly and fairly lifted my feet off the floor with his strong arms and graceful, athletic body. My head was filled with the masculine scent of his aftershave and so close by. As the dance ended, I turned to go, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back. “They’re all mine,” he said sternly but in a way that made me feel damp down below. I nodded and Michael never let go of me for the entire night.

  When the ball ended, he walked me back to our suite of rooms and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be here in the morning to take you home.” It was a statement and there was no question involved.

  Mama, flustered and overwhelmed was immediately behind me, pulling me into the room as she clucked about everything worth mentioning. I heard none of it—my head was filled with Michael.

  “Your father will be spending the night elsewhere,” she was muttering. “Drunken fool…” she was damning him beneath her breath and waving congratulations at clusters of girls in the hall at the same time. “And you, young lady. What in Heaven’s name did you think you were doing. You behaved scandalously! I don’t think there’s a single young man there tonight who would ask for you now.”

 
; “That’s okay. There’s not a single one of your young men I’d want,” I came back at her. Except one.

  But Mama wasn’t done. “And that … that … Irishman! How dare he compromise your reputation by monopolizing your company like that. I saw several of the young men begin to approach you for a dance and he warned them away like his eyes were filled with fire. I won’t have it, I just won’t have it. I plan to talk to your father when we’re back at Tipperary. I don’t want that man around. He has lechery in his very eyes!”

  “Mama, don’t you think you’re being a bit over-dramatic? ‘Lechery’? Who even uses words like that anymore? Mama, you’d better get used to things changing. These are the 60s now and girls are going to stop wearing cotton petticoats and white gloves and begin wearing pants like men. And good for them, too!”

  “Kathleen O’Hara!” Mama stumbled to get the door shut quickly before anyone overheard. “How dare you speak of such things with other people around. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t sent you to St. Elizabeth’s. It seems they didn’t give you the kind of education I expected. You’ve become a rebel!”

  “Oh, Mama, stop it. Anyway, it’s a man’s world, don’t forget. We women aren’t allowed to be who we want yet. Men are going to do what they want and it’s up to us to clean up their messes and raise their babies.”

  That shut Mama up. I felt sorry for her. I think she’d just plumb worn herself out with all the festivities and maneuvering. I knew for a fact there were plenty of happy girls out there who were glad I’d stayed with Michael and not gone through the rest of the young men around us. I didn’t care. I had the only one worth having.

  Michael

  A rather bloated, greenish O’Hara sat across my desk from me. I’d left as soon as Katie had but had been there at eight in the morning only to be told that her mama had ordered a car an hour earlier and the ladies had departed. O’Hara was snoring in the lounge. I’d kicked him in the shin and told him to be in my office Monday morning at eight o’clock. He was too sick to argue and just rolled over until he fell on the floor and two of the porters had to heft him up and deliver him, supposedly, to a room. He wasn’t my concern any more that night.

  Yet, at that moment, he’d become my concern. “Did you enjoy yourself at the Ball, Quinn?”

  “I’ll get to that later. Now, let’s get down to business.” He nodded and I saw him swallow hard. He damned well better be worried. I had a stack of manilla folders in front of me. I turned them each open and spread them out like a deck of cards across the top of my desk. “Know what those are?” I pointed to the topmost stack with my finger.

  O’Hara said nothing but looked up from the papers to my face with an oh shit look. “Not absolutely,” he finally muttered.

  “I believe you do know. In fact, I believe you may be thinking that there should be more; and trust me, there are. I just didn’t go to the trouble, but I will.”

  He straightened up, trying to salvage his position. He tucked in his shirt and tightened his tie, but I could still see the sheen on his forehead.

  “Sit down. You’re going to listen to me now. I’ve been listening to you run on for the past two weeks. It’s your turn.”

  He didn’t argue, but plopped into the chair.

  “Now then. These represent a handful of debts you owe. No point in protesting; you know what they are as well as I do. Look at this—ten thousand to the Stockyards Bank. Another twenty thousand to the Bank of Louisville. Fifty thousand to Bank of Lexington, and at that point your local credit ran out. A hundred fifty thousand to the Bank of Cincinnati, twenty thousand here and three hundred thousand there. I don’t know how you managed to keep current on any of these unless you were borrowing to make payments on the other.” The red climbing up the side of his neck told me that’s exactly what had been happening. I wasn’t surprised. “And now, your little game of robbing Peter to pay Paul has caught up with you. You’re broke. Finished. That’s why you were so upset after that race. You were banking on that three-year-old to sell high and give you a grubstake, which you would no doubt lose at the same tracks where you lost all the rest of it. What have you been doing, man?”

  I knew my voice was harsh, but stupidity always sickened me. Men like him should be sweeping the streets and eating from garbage cans instead of putting their children through private colleges and buying race horses by the dozen. He was using other people’s money to feed his own addiction. In my book, he was no better than an alchy.

  “What’s all this to you?” It was probably the first sane question he’d asked.

  “I happen to be in a position to help you out,” I said quietly.

  He began to cough, choking on the saliva that had built up in his throat. His florid complexion was beginning to regain its normal color. “How so?”

  “As we both know, I have more money than I will ever need.”

  O’Hara stared at me, a flicker of envy flashing in his eyes.

  “The one thing I don’t have, you do and I’m going to buy out your debts to get you off the hook and then you’re going to give that to me.”

  His eyes grew wide with fear. “What do you want?”

  I opened the center drawer of my desk and withdrew crisp white sheets of paper. “That’s a sales agreement. I’ve totaled your debts, at least these here on the desk, and you owe just a little north of four hundred thousand dollars.”

  O’Hara began coughing again—the fear and incredulity twisting his ugly face. “I do?”

  “That’s what I thought, you coward. You haven’t even had the guts to add it up. You’d probably have killed yourself.” I let that sink in. “It’s a miracle you’re still able to get credit at the local grocery, although I think that’s about to disappear, as well. What were you planning to tell your wife and your daughter? How about the hired help you use to keep up pretenses? Does Bella even know you’ve spent yourself into ruin?”

  He slowly shook his head. He looked like he’d be sick.

  “If you’re going to puke, use the trash can next to you.” O’Hara eyeballed it briefly, but swallowed hard again. “How could you do this to that beautiful daughter? To Katie? She’ll be devastated!”

  O’Hara blanched at the words, which he knew to be true. With disgust I could see he was beginning to cry. Not just a wet eye, but shoulder-shaking sobs that wet the front of his shirt and caused him to snort inward like a pig. I pressed the intercom button and asked my secretary, Margaret, to bring in a pitcher of water and some tissues. She knocked briefly and appeared almost immediately. I made a mental note that she probably heard much of what was said in my office and to make some sort of acoustic change to stop it. She went straight to O’Hara, holding out the box of tissues and set the tray with the pitcher of water and glasses before him. I turned my back and looked out the window while he put himself back together. I didn’t pity him one bit. He was absolutely disgusting. If it wasn’t for …

  “Okay, can you hold it together, O’Hara?”

  He nodded, wringing a tissue between his fingers. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “It’s not what I want. It’s what’s going to happen and today I’m going to allow you to leave this office without wanting to slit your own throat. Cards on the table. Can you take it?”

  He nodded, wiping his nose.

  “Okay, you owe money—quite a lot. I’m going to buy this debt you see before you. That still leaves you with some, but you need practice getting yourself out of shit on your own. I’m not going to wetnurse you forever. You’ll deed your farm and livestock over to me, paid in full. Second, and more importantly—you’re going to accept my proposal to marry your daughter and in return, I will not tell her the circumstances of our agreement unless you force me to it.”

  “Katie? You want my Katie? But…”

  “But, nothing. There wasn’t a single fellow there the other night who could give her the life she deserves, much less bail you out of your mess. And don’t pretend that’s not what you were hoping, you worth
less cur. Lucky for you, she hasn’t been contaminated by you, and never will be if I have anything to say about it. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going back to the farm today and tell Bella that I brought you in here today to ask for Katie’s hand, and that you willingly, and gratefully, accepted. Neither of you will say anything to her yet. Is that clear? Nothing. One word and the whole deal is off, at least the part about clearing up your debts. I will ask her in my own time and in my own way. In the meantime, and you don’t deserve an explanation, I’m going to let her sew her wild seeds, but she’ll do it by my side, as an unmarried woman.”

  O’Hara opened his mouth to object. I held up my hand and he knew what that meant. At least he was smart enough to figure that one out.

  “Next… when we return from our tour, I will make an honest woman of her, but not until then. She has to learn the value of marriage and not this sell-a-girl auction you barbarians put on.”

  “Oh, now, that’s a tradition …”

  “Stop it. Don’t even try to validate it. You put your daughter on a stage for the highest bidder. Didn’t you people used to do that for slaves?”

  “That’s hitting low, Quinn.”

  “I just call it as I see it. Don’t worry, you don’t need to come up with a dowry. I just want her.”

  “Will you be good to her, Quinn? She’s my whole life.”

  “Liar. You are your whole life. These debts prove that. Lay off the gambling, the drinking and the whoring. Oh, yes, I know about that, too, so don’t bother denying it. You can stay on as caretaker for the time being so nothing has to change with regard to Katie or her mother. I’m not forcing Katie, but I will be there and I have a good idea she’ll welcome me. When we get down the road, we can discuss what I want to do with the farm, but in the meantime, you can continue to act like lord of the manor. Get rid of the servants, though. Katie won’t be there and just the two of you won’t need to be waited on—at least not from my pocket. The men in the stables; keep them.”