Tory

by Vikki Kestell

  Before Tory stepped outside, she spoke to the doorman. “Pardon me. I know which direction leads to the shopping area; but, in particular, could you direct me to any fine dress shops?”

  “Denver offers women’s wear mostly in mercantile stores or emporiums. I know of but two dress shops, miss.” He pointed down the street. “Turn right at the corner, go three blocks.”

  “Thank you.”

  When she returned at lunch time, Tory was discouraged. She had found the shops and stepped inside, only to discover the merchandise to be on par with ready-made garments. When she asked about evening wear, clerks from both dress shops referred her to a modiste who worked out of her home.

  “The elite of Denver do not often use her; they prefer to shop back east or abroad,” one clerk confided to Tory. “They make month-long pilgrimages to New York, Philadelphia, and Boston, taking in the art, plays, and musicales in the evenings, while shopping during the day. They return to Denver dressed in new finery, whatever is the rage in New York or Paris.”

  “I see. Thank you for your time and insights.”

  Tory went to her room, took off her warm outer wear, and checked her hair. She was leaving for the dining room when the door to their suite opened and Charles entered.

  “Ah, I was hoping to catch you before you went down for lunch, Tory.”

  “What did Mr. Visser wish to see you about, Charles?”

  “That is precisely what I desire to discuss with you, Tory. Come, sit down and let me explain.”

  Tory sat in an overstuffed armchair and waited for him to continue.

  “Visser heard that I was looking for an investment opportunity. The thing of it is, Tory, he tells me the Broadmoor is for sale.”

  “For sale? This place?”

  “Yes. The owner is retiring and desires to be shed of the responsibilities of management. He wishes to sell to a younger man for a sizeable cash amount down and monthly payments that would fund his retirement.”

  Then Tory understood. “You are considering buying this hotel?” Her question was tinged with amazement. “Why, what do you know of hotels?”

  “A business is a business, Tory. Mr. Visser would stay on to manage the day-to-day operations. My role would be to infuse new life and money into the place.”

  Charles paced the sitting room, caught up in the idea. “I have the cash payment the owner expects; however, the Broadmoor, if it is to thrive and recapture its former reputation, requires improvements—new carpets, furniture, and plenty of beautifying work—paint, paper, and so on.”

  He stopped in front of Tory’s chair. “Visser and I walked all through the property after we spoke, and I came up with what I believe is a brilliant idea: The hotel has two wings, north and south. If I can convince the owner to take half of the cash payment now, I would use the other half to refit the lobby and the north wing, restoring those rooms to their previous quality. I would move all the boarders to the south wing of the hotel and partition the lobby, providing a smaller, separate entrance for the boarders, and designating the greater portion of the lobby to our hotel guests.”

  Tory was dubious. “You mean to operate the Broadmoor as both a boarding house and hotel?”

  “Yes. As the hotel side begins to make money, I would pay off the second half of the down payment. Eventually, of course, I would renovate the south wing also.”

  He hesitated. “A truly fine hotel needs someone with superior taste to guide the renovations. I would also require a person to keep the books, to monitor income and expenses. You have a good head upon your shoulders, Tory. I thought of you for the job.”

  “What? Me? What do I know of accounting?”

  “You are bright and educated: accounting can be taught. We would hire someone to set up the books properly after which you would maintain them. Additionally, while I oversaw the renovations, you would train the staff and set the right tone for the hotel.”

  Tory blinked. The idea held some appeal, but the financial side of Charles’ scheme seemed thin. “You have no idea what such a makeover would entail, what furnishing four floors would cost. Such quality takes—”

  “Quality takes taste and money. I know. I propose we begin with the lobby, dining room, and first floor of the north wing. I would make those renovations my priority and personally oversee the work. As our clientele grew, we would continue to remodel.”

  “I don’t know, Charles.”

  He rocked back on his heels, nodding. “I have asked Visser to make the offer. If the owner refuses, I have lost nothing.”

  “And if you sink all you have into this hotel and cannot make a go of it, you will lose everything,” Tory shot back.

  Charles had a faraway look in his eyes. “I understand the risk.”

  “And Miss Visser?”

  “What about her?”

  “Are you blind? Are you insensible to her arch looks and sniffs of disdain whenever I pass the front desk? She believes I am your mistress, Charles. I cannot think how she would take your purchase of the hotel. Why, a single gossip on the premises could ruin you.”

  “If the owner accepts my offer, we shall move you to your own suite. That should quell any rumors.”

  “There is also the issue of my color: Miss Visser is a bigot.”

  “I don’t believe I have ever heard you use that word, Tory.”

  “You shall hear it more in future, if Miss Visser continues her superior, condescending manner.”

  “I will handle Miss Visser.”

  “Will you, indeed? I will hold you to it, Charles.” Tory cocked her head and studied Charles, knowing he had already decided to buy the hotel. “And my salary?”

  She had surprised him, and he took a minute to consider her question.

  “Room and board, of course.”

  “Do Visser and his sister live on the premises?”

  “I believe they have a suite on the floor above us.”

  She lifted her chin. “Then my salary shall be something more than Miss Visser’s.”

  “Now, Tory—”

  “I will be paid for my work, Charles. If this is not acceptable, then I decline your offer.”

  Charles met her gaze. “Miss Visser receives ten dollars a month in addition to her room and board, but I will not be able to pay you above five dollars a month until the hotel begins to clear a profit. However, I would agree to owe you the difference. In a year, if we are doing well, I should begin to pay you twelve dollars a month and extra to catch up what is owed. Could you agree to that?”

  Still underwhelmed at the prospect of Charles buying the hotel, Tory pressed her advantage. “If I agree to your offer, Mr. Visser and his sister must move to the south wing. Permanently. But you and I will take up separate suites on the fourth floor of the north wing. I can put up with carpenters and painters working on the floors below us, but I will not have Miss Visser glaring down her nose at me.”

  Charles studied Tory for a long, silent moment. Finally, he murmured, “As you wish, Miss Washington.”

  He left soon after, but Tory remained seated, wondering what she had gotten herself into. Charles believed her to be all of eighteen years old—mature beyond her years, but still only eighteen.

  How appalled he would be to discover that I am but sixteen.

  Suddenly she laughed. “I am the only one in the world who could disclose the truth to him—and that I will never do.”

  Chapter 21

  Charles approached Tory midmorning the next day. “Great news! The owner has agreed to the terms of my offer. I will give him half the cash payment now and the other half in a year—next March, to be exact.”

  He lit a cigarette and grinned. “We will sign papers this week, but we should plan our first steps now, so that we can begin as soon as the legalities are settled.”

  “Well, we shall be unable to make any changes until the boarders move. Perhaps today we should choose our new rooms and inform Mr. Visser and his sister that they will be moving all boarders to the south
wing, themselves included,” Tory suggested.

  “Yes. You make a good point. I shall direct Mr. Visser to deliver the news to the boarders.”

  “I was thinking about the first-floor renovations last evening, Charles, and had an idea. I propose that we combine two sets of rooms into one grand suite—expend more money on carpet, paper, drapes, furnishings, and linens to impress our wealthiest and most discriminating guests.”

  “A stroke of genius, Tory.” He rubbed his hands together as he prepared to find and speak to George Visser. “I must say, I am eager to begin.”

  When Charles and Tory arrived for dinner that evening, the dining room was abuzz—that is, until they took their seats at their customary table.

  “Everyone is staring at us, Charles,” Tory murmured.

  “Yes. Did you not notice how conversation stopped when we made our entrance? I believe Mr. Visser has been quick to pass along the news.”

  As dinner drew to a close and Charles lit his after-dinner cigarette, the boarders, one by one, approached Charles and Tory.

  “We understand you have purchased the Broadmoor,” a factory clerk began, “and intend to bring about improvements. They will certainly be welcomed. I wish you well in these endeavors.” He shook Charles’ hand and nodded to Tory.

  A teacher sidled up to their table. “May I offer my congratulations, Mr. Luchetti? I am convinced the Broadmoor will thrive under your ownership. Of course, it is a hardship to change rooms. I have resided here for more than a year, and—”

  “Thank you for your warm wishes,” Charles interrupted. “I regret the inconvenience to you, of course, Miss Davies, but the move is necessary. I am certain you would not appreciate the clamor and mess of remodeling going on outside your doors, disturbing your peace at all hours.”

  “Oh! I had not considered that point. You are right, of course.” She bobbed her chin. “Thank you.”

  Beginning that evening and extending into the following week, Charles received many such overtures and congratulations. The general attitude of the boarders toward Charles and Tory also altered from one of camaraderie to deference as news of Charles’ ownership of the hotel settled. Mr. Visser reported that the north-side boarders were selecting their new rooms on the south side of the hotel and preparing to shift their belongings.

  Tory felt they were beginning well and that the general reception of the news had been positive with the hotel occupants. All, with the exception of Trudy Visser. She said nothing to either Charles or Tory, but Tory could sense an undercurrent of anger within the woman.

  That undercurrent came to the surface when Charles, who had appropriated Mr. Visser’s office for himself and moved a second desk into the room for Tory, called a meeting with Visser and his sister to outline the upcoming work.

  “As you know, we have decided to remodel the first-floor rooms and hallway of the north wing initially,” Charles stated. “While those tasks are underway, we will also commence renovations on the lobby. I have given Miss Washington charge of hotel décor and training of staff. This will be of particular importance when the lobby is partitioned. The smaller, south side will be our boarders’ entrance; the larger side will service our hotel guests.”

  Charles nodded to Mr. Visser’s sister. “Miss Visser, when the partition is complete, you will take charge of the desk on the boarders’ side of the lobby and work exclusively with them. Miss Washington will apprise you of your duties when the time approaches.”

  “But Mr. Visser is the hotel manager,” Miss Visser spluttered. “I . . . I am not accustomed to taking orders from a . . . woman.”

  What you mean is that you are not accustomed to taking orders from a dark-skinned woman, Tory fumed.

  Charles sat back and stared at Miss Visser. “Indeed? Well, as Miss Washington will often speak for me, Miss Visser, you have a choice before you: Either accustom yourself to receiving direction from Miss Washington or search for new employment. It is, of course, your decision.”

  Miss Visser slid her eyes toward her brother and received no response from him. He sat, his eyes straight forward, exhibiting no sign of disagreement with Charles.

  Miss Visser fidgeted and delayed but, at last, answered Charles. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Now, about the dining room . . .”

  CHARLES AND TORY SPENT the remainder of the week walking the hotel, making lists and sketching details. On Friday, Charles visited the owner’s attorney and put his signature to the purchase paperwork. He returned to the hotel elated.

  “Mr. Connally, the previous owner, was as enthusiastic as I was when I outlined our plan. And he was able to recommend a contractor to commence the work.”

  Tory smiled. Despite her initial misgivings, she appreciated the positive effect the hotel was having on Charles. “I am glad, Charles. I shall be gladder still to see the work underway.”

  “As will I, Tory. As will I.”

  “And, with the purchase papers signed, I should like to select my new rooms.”

  Charles nodded. “As you wish, Tory.”

  Tory selected a one-bedroom suite at the northwest corner of the fourth floor. The corner afforded her views of the mountains surrounding Denver. Having grown up in Louisiana, snow-capped mountains and endless vistas were a novelty.

  “Magnificent,” she murmured. She determined to move into the suite that evening and returned to her room to make arrangements.

  When the doorman arrived at her new rooms with her scant luggage, Tory thanked him and began to unpack. She had just finished and sat down before the little desk in the sitting room to add to her notes, but could not find her pencils. She pulled the center drawer toward her, hoping to find one, and stared at a little book. The words HOLY BIBLE were stamped on its cover.

  “Oh, dear. Someone has forgotten their Bible.”

  Tory had never handled a Bible. Somewhere in this book is the passage I keep with my locket. She picked it up and thumbed through: The pages were thin and the print tiny.

  It is so vast. Why, how could one ever find anything? she wondered.

  Still unable to find a pencil, Tory picked up the book and took the elevator to the lobby. She walked to the front desk where a young clerk stood on duty.

  “Yes, Miss Washington?”

  She glanced at his name tag. “Good evening, Mr. Wick. As you know, I have just occupied room 425. I am afraid a previous occupant left their Bible in the desk.”

  Wick frowned. “I apologize, Miss Washington. It was not left accidentally. A group of traveling salesmen are beginning to leave Bibles in every room they stay in.”

  “On purpose? Whatever for?”

  “I suppose they hope to convert someone by leaving their ‘holy’ books. I will take it off your hands, miss.”

  He reached for it, but Tory withdrew the volume. “If I take your meaning, Mr. Wick, this book was left as a gift? To whomever found it?”

  “Yes, miss. A nuisance, if you ask me.”

  “Perhaps, but if it is all the same to you, I may keep it?”

  The clerk blinked and drew himself up. “Certainly, miss.”

  “Thank you.”

  After securing a pencil from her office, Tory returned to her rooms. She sat at the desk and again thumbed through the Bible, wondering how to find the passage she had cut from the pamphlet.

  This is hopeless, she deduced minutes later. Instead, she stopped to read a page that had red print intermixed with the normal black print. She glanced at the top of the page and saw the words, ‘John 6.’

  “And who is John?” She started at the chapter heading, noting that the passage was marked by sequential numbers. She frowned and read aloud, “After these things Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is the sea of Tiberias.”

  She raced through the fantastic story—barley loaves and fishes miraculously multiplied to feed thousands. Her breath hitched when she read about Jesus walking atop the waves in the midst of a great wind and high seas.

  “Impossible!”


  But she could not stop herself from devouring every word. When she reached verse 40, she stopped.

  And this is the will of him that sent me,

  that everyone which seeth the Son,

  and believeth on him,

  may have everlasting life:

  and I will raise him up at the last day.

  Tory’s mouth opened a little. “Everyone which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day.” By then, she had figured out that all the red words were spoken by Jesus and “the Son” referred to him. “But how can anyone see Jesus when he lived so long ago?”

  Sighing with frustration, she dropped the Bible into the drawer where she had found it.

  ON MONDAY, CHARLES and Tory met with the contractor and, within a fortnight, the renovation commenced. Tory was involved in all aspects of the work; as Charles was often occupied elsewhere, the foreman became accustomed to finding Tory at her desk and asking direction from her.

  As for the rest of Tory’s day, it was spent with an accountant who reviewed Mr. Visser’s books, established a new set of books for the hotel, and transferred a correct balance from the old books to the new ones. He then tutored Tory in the correct manner of keeping the new books current and correct.

  After observing Tory and correcting her mistakes for two days, he announced, “I shall come back next Friday and review your work. If I find errors, we shall amend them together so you might learn from your mistakes.”

  “Thank you. I shall do my best.”

  “You shall do well, if your progress to date is any indication,” he replied.

  September 1907

  TORY OPENED THE HOTEL’S books and turned them toward Charles. “Do look here, Charles. At present, we are renting all the remodeled first-floor hotel rooms. This is a notable success, but our expenses, including the monthly payment to Mr. Connally, consume all of our income. Construction on the second floor of the north wing cannot go forward, and we have saved nothing toward the second half of the cash payment. This leaves us at an impasse. If we do not have more rooms to let, we cannot increase revenue, but without increased revenue, we cannot save for the second half of the cash payment.”