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?"
C
oral 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."
"Yeah. Now that I look like this I won't be any good at Lou's and I'll never catch a husband. So much better to have a skill to fall back on." Her sarcasm and despair ate at Fayth.
"You'll be pretty as you please again long before the summer's gone. But you can't be a designer without having a knowledge of fabric and construction. Until the drape and feel of every cloth is part of your being, you can't design effectively. Sewing is the best way to acquire it. What good are drawings if they can't be turned into reality?"
"I suppose you're right. But what I really want is a rich husband. Why do you think I stay at Lou's? If I marry rich, I can draw all day long."
Fayth studied her closely, biting back what she wanted to say. Coral stood a much better chance of landing a decent husband, a husband at all, if she were out of the business. But she couldn't tell her that. "What you want is independence."
"So easy to say when you've found your man."
A knock at the front door interrupted them. When Fayth returned from answering it, she carried a stack of mail. Coral stood aside, watching as Fayth sorted through it. "What's so funny?"
Fayth hadn't realized she'd laughed aloud as she read her postcard from the Captain.
"A hand-drawn postcard from the Captain. A rather clumsy one." She held it up for Coral to see. "Look, just a cartoon. There, does that shatter your romantic notions about the Captain and me? No pictures of roses or declarations of love, just silliness." But she knew her face gave her away. She couldn't hold her smile down. "Some people shouldn't draw," she said softly, looking at the crude picture, imagining him drawing it.
"It's very romantic. A man only sends a card like that to a woman he's very intimate with, emotionally or otherwise. He loves you madly."
"You're a surprisingly hopeless romantic, given the kind of men you deal with."
"And you are hopelessly jaded and unromantic, considering the kind of men you know."
"Touché! Now, shall I show you how to hem?"
During the Captain’s absence, the city council voted to keep the boardwalks at the original level. Only the actual streets were raised. Now a full story higher than the boardwalk, people who walked or rode along the street looked directly into second-story windows. To get from the boardwalk to the street required climbing a ladder. To get from the street to the entrance of any building, one had to climb down a ladder. Neither were easy feats while wearing a skirt.
The uncouth men of Seattle spit over the edge of the raised street down to the uncovered boardwalk below, and thought it great sport. Women had to carry umbrellas for protection. The horses hitched at street level didn't behave any better, backing over the edge to relieve themselves. But they at least held legitimate claim to being animals. Fortunately, Fayth successfully navigated the streets without incident as she made her way to the docks to meet the Captain’s ship.
Now, standing in front of the office of O'Neill's Shipping, hands clasped demurely in front of her, knuckles white, watching the Aurnia glide through the sparkling waters into her moorage space, Fayth fought the urge to flee. She half expected another woman to emerge from the Captain's cabin. And how was she going to explain Coral's presence in their home?
The Captain held the helm, navigating the vessel into her tight berth. Moments later the Aurnia docked. He appeared on deck and shouted the command to tie up. Her heart flip-flopped at the sight of him; she wondered whether from her growing feelings for him or from the news she’d come to share with him.
She had pestered Tetch for information for days. She didn't want the Captain walking in and finding Coral before she had a chance to explain. Mr. Tetch finally sent word that morning that the Captain had wired that the Aurnia should arrive within the day.
Fayth waited for the Captain to spot her. When his gaze finally found her, his face lit with pleasure. He made his way toward her as soon as the gangplank was secured.
"Fayth!" He caught her in a hug of unexpected magnitude as his men watched from the deck above. She gave him a breezy peck on the cheek. If he was disappointed, he didn't show it.
"It's good to see you."
His eyes danced as he cocked his head and peered into her face. "We weren't due in until tomorrow. Spend all day wit
h a spyglass to your eye? I don't see a ring around your eye."
She laughed—somewhat too nervously, she thought. "More like pestered Mr. Tetch for any word of your arrival."
He looked hopeful. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Forever."
He seemed to like her answer. He swung her around, his arm looped around her waist, and walked her toward shore.
"What about the ship?"
"The men know what to do. I'm happy to see you, Fayth." The warmth in his voice sounded genuine.
They reached dry ground before she worked up to mentioning Coral. "I need to talk to you about something." She was sure she looked guilty.
"Oh?" He was suddenly on his guard.
"We have a houseguest." Her voice pitched a little too high to sound completely innocent.
He cocked a brow.
"A long-term one."
"Who? Family of yours?"
"Not exactly." She took a deep breath. What would she do if he got angry and insisted that Coral leave?
"A girl from Lou Gramm's parlor house." She hurriedly continued, her words strung together to prevent interruption. "The girl I've been trying to get out of the business. A client beat Coral up about a week ago. She had to get out of the house and there was no place else for her to go. Lou sent her to me. What could I do, Con? I couldn't send her away."
He didn't say anything. Didn't even register that she had called him Con. She realized it too late herself.
"Lou wants her back when she's healed, but I'm trying to convince her to be my apprentice. With business picking up I could use one." She stopped, self-conscious.
"If you had seen her, you couldn't have turned her away either." She shuddered at the memory. It was involuntary, but effective. "You haven't said anything. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll send her back to Lou." She hoped he wouldn't take up the offer.
He dropped his arm from her waist and turned to face her. "A girl from Lou's?"
He sounded stunned, but why shouldn't he? Blast her wicked thoughts that cast aspersions on him at every opportunity.
The Last Honest Seamstress Page 18