“Still don’t know what you want to do?” Karen asked.
Diana shook her head and hiccoughed. “What I really want I can’t have. I want to stay here and cook for my friends. I want Casey to stay here and play piano. I want to sing songs to Casey every night of the week and to guests on weekends. But Casey’s moving on, and there won’t be any guests, because there won’t be any hotel because there won’t be any hot water. But damn it all, Karen, shit.…”
“What?”
“I still want to cook for this community. It’ll be the way it was before, almost. I don’t want to leave!”
Karen felt like weeping herself. “Then don’t. If Casey can’t see what a treasure he’d be losing if he left you behind, he’s not worth following. Especially into the great unknown.”
Diana didn’t answer, and into the brief silence that followed barged the sound of footsteps approaching on the hallway outside Karen’s apartment.
He smiled at the two women, but it wasn’t one of his goofy grins full of Casey charm. It was a hopeful, tentative, almost bashful smile.
“I agree with you, Karen. I’m not worth following into the great unknown.”
“Well, then, Casey—”
“But what if it could be the great known? Diana, what if I could assure you of a real job, singing five nights a week in a classy club in Santa Barbara? You’d be the main attraction. I’d be lucky enough to back you up on the keys, but you’d be the headliner. People would come to hear you, they’d be wild about you, and between a regular paycheck and tips you’d earn a good living. Would you be willing to give that a try? Say a couple of months? Karen, could you spare Diana for a couple of months, so she could at least give the thrill of entertaining a try?”
Karen did not answer. Her lips formed a thin straight line. Her eyes seemed to smolder.
Diana asked, “Is this something you can offer, Casey, or is this just more wishful bullshit?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Casey admitted. “But we’ll find out tomorrow. I know the club owner, and I know he’s looking for talent. I’ll call him in the morning. If we could audition tomorrow, I’m pretty sure we’re in. If we want it. If you want it. What’s the harm in finding out whether or not he wants you, which I bet he will, and whether or not you want the gig? That would be entirely up to you.”
Karen spoke. “Casey, you’re a first-class snowman. You should be selling encyclopedias door to door.”
“Maybe so,” Casey answered, looking only at Diana. “I’d do that, or anything else if it meant I could have what I want and need. To be a first-class showman, and to share my good fortune with only you. Diana. Could you please say something? Anything?”
Diana inhaled and swallowed. She looked at Karen, then back at Casey. “You make it sound so perfect and so easy. But I have a job here, Casey. Here at Hope Springs. I have to feed my friends. This community needs a cook.”
Casey turned to Karen. “Help,” he softly begged. “Please.”
Karen said, “Much as I love you, Diana, and as much as I love the way you nourish us all, I could hire another cook. I can see how much you want to be with Casey, even though I still think he’s a big unknown, and you might end up stuck with an itinerant piano tuner. But I want you to audition for this impossibly perfect gig. If it’s really right for you, really right, you should take it.”
Casey: “Diana?”
Diana: “Okay. I’ll go up to Santa Barbara with you tomorrow and audition. But I won’t move away from Hope Springs until Karen’s found another cook. If this club owner wants me, he’ll have to wait his turn.”
Casey: “That may not work for him.”
Diana: “Tough. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
18. Auditions
They were halfway up the coast to Santa Barbara before Diana found the voice and the nerve to say out loud, “Casey, I have a bad feeling about this.”
Casey patted her knee. “You’ll be great. And besides, it’s only an audition.”
“I’ve got the jitters,” she said. “My voice is going to croak. I’ll sound like a frog. Or what if nothing comes out? What if I open my mouth and there’s nothing there?”
“Diana, relax. Just relax. Sing for the fun of it and you’ll sound like a lark.”
“Besides,” Diana mumbled.
Casey switched lanes to allow a loud truck to roar by. When quiet returned, he said, “Besides what?”
“Just…oh, I don’t know. Forget it.”
“Besides what, Diana? Speak up.”
She took a deep breath. “I look like a frump, some left-over hippie, in this stupid yellow tee shirt. He’s going to think I’m boring. Hell. I am boring. This dumb tee shirt is the sexiest garment in my wardrobe. Stop smiling at me. Are you laughing at me, Casey?”
“I’m going to buy you a clingy red satin dress, with a plunging neckline, to go with your clear, commanding voice and your come-hither smiling eyes.”
“I can’t afford fancy clothes, Casey. I’m dirt poor. He’s going to hate me, this Sidney Mitchell maestro.”
“The clothes are on me, Diana.”
She laughed. “I can just see you in a red satin dress, Casey. You’ll knock them dead.”
Casey said, “I mean I’ll pay for your new wardrobe. I’m bankrolling this adventure till we start earning steady money. Meanwhile I can afford it. Karen and Nellie each paid me a thousand dollars a month for nine months, so I’m loaded. I’ll pay the rent, the groceries—”
“Stop talking like it’s a done deal,” Diana said. “This is just an audition. Besides.”
“Besides what?”
Diana sighed. “Never mind. Santa Barbara, here we come. Where’s this Café Rouge anyway?”
“Montecito. Next exit, Hot Springs Road. Santa Barbara, get ready for the amazing Miss Diana Pearson!”
“Oh, blow it out your ass, Casey,” Diana responded, but she said it with a big fat smile she couldn’t repress.
———
It was the custom of the yellow people at Hope Springs to fend for themselves in the kitchen. Diana made dinner for the whole community every night but Sunday, but the Yellows put together their own breakfasts and lunches. But it was also the custom that Diana seemed always to be there in the kitchen at breakfast time and lunch time, ready and happy to fix anybody who wanted it some scrambled eggs or a grilled cheese sandwich.
So, because Casey had whisked Diana away for the day, Karen felt obliged to fill in for her at lunchtime. Karen’s repertoire in the kitchen amounted to a bowl of granola and a peanut butter sandwich, but she kept herself busy cleaning the twelve-burner stove, just in case anybody asked to be fed. Finished with the stove, she was in the pantry, thinking about supper and taking stock of the supplies, when she heard the faint ding of the call bell in the lobby.
She walked into the kitchen and started toward the front, but stopped when she heard footsteps in the long hallway. She waited for whoever it was to reach the dining room.
In walked someone she had never met before, a woman in jeans and a chambray work shirt, with a tan and happy face all weathered and lined. A strong woman, a bit older than Karen, who seemed to be at ease with whatever came next. It took only one glance for Karen to know all that. The woman held out her hand.
Karen ignored the woman’s hand and dove into the arms of the man beside her. Nqong’s embrace was happy and warm. Warm from the summer day outside, warm with the love Nqong brought home to her.
“You old pollywog,” Karen said, out of his arms and wiping her tears with her bandanna, “where in the hell have you been?”
Nqong shook his head and grinned. He opened his mouth but words didn’t come out.
“‘The hell’ is right,” said Nqong’s companion. “This man has been in oil country, in Maricopa County. He barely survived, and he narrowly escaped. Hi. I’m Tillie, by the way.”
The woman named Tillie held out her hand again, and this time Karen took it and held it warmly. “My name is Karen Ho
pe. I live here. Thank you, Tillie, for bringing home our dear teacher, our friend, the bringer of beetles, and the master of our water. You have no idea how we’ve missed this rascal.”
“My pleasure, and I can guess how much he means to you. I’ve known Nqong—so that’s how you pronounce his name?—less than a week, and I’m already in love with him. I hope that’s not a problem.”
Karen glanced at her old black friend, who was still holding his grin and his silence. She turned back to Tillie and replied, “I know how you feel. I’ve loved Nqong for years. Are you hungry? Can I fix you a peanut butter sandwich?”
Nqong said, “Karen.”
“Nqong?”
“Show Tillie the kitchen. Let her make lunch.”
———
Sidney Mitchell wore a smile that Diana imagined had been manufactured in New Jersey. He greeted Casey with a hug and a laugh, and he was an instant flirt with Diana. “Casey tells me you are some fine girl singer,” he told her. He looked her over, up and down. “I can see why he likes you. You’ve got what it takes!”
“You haven’t heard me sing yet,” Diana pointed out.
“Right you are, young lady. Right you are. Casey tells me you’re a regular nightingale, but then I expect he’s prejudiced and I can see why! Huh? I can see why.” That smile again. Actually, it wasn’t a bad smile. Okay. “Okay,” Sidney said. “Go on over to the piano, you two, and give me a couple of numbers.”
Casey held her cold hand and led her to the grand piano. While he played a few warm-up scales and tried out a few chord changes, Diana looked around the vast cocktail lounge called the Café Rouge. The room was dark, and the tables and bar were empty, except for Sid, who strolled to a table toward the back of the room, sat down, and called out, “Fire when ready!”
Casey hit the first chord of the song they had agreed to open with, and Diana took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to sing the first line a capella, as they had always started the song.
No sound came out. She cleared her throat.
Casey hit the chord again, softer this time.
Diana tried again: “I could cry, salty tears—”
“Wait,” Casey said. “Louder, Diana. Sell it.”
Diana nodded. Swallowed. Trembled.
Chord.
“I could cry, salty tears. Where have I been—”
“I’m not hearing you, sweetheart,” Sid called from the back of the dark room. He stood up and approached the performers. “I know it’s hard singing to an empty room. It’s like an echo chamber with no echo. No energy back. So pretend you’re singing this ballad to a room full of men and women, all of whom are ready to love you to pieces.” Sid sat down. “Take three. Go.”
Casey’s chord.
Diana waved for silence. She told Sid, and she told Casey, “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t get started.”
Sid Mitchell’s teeth seemed to shine in the dark. “Wonderful tune! One of my faves. Okay, sweetheart, sing that one, and sing it to Casey. Look at me, I’m your audience, but think about Casey while you sell the song. Pretend you love him, really love him. Not all that hard to do, right? Right?”
Diana nodded. Casey gave her a middle C.
“I’ve flown around the world in a plane.…” As the song left her mouth, note after clear note, Diana thought about her lover, her piano man, and she felt her voice get stronger and sadder and smarter and more her own. But it was still soft.
When the song ended, she bowed to her audience of one, who was smiling back at her and clapping his hands. “God, you’re great! You too, Casey, but it’s Diane here who’s going to bring in the repeat customers.”
“Diana.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Diana, ending on an A-flat. Mr. Mitchell—”
“Sid, honey. Call me Sid. Let’s be friends here.”
Diana tried again. “Sid, the thing is, I’ll never be able to sing to this room, especially when there are people in here, talking to each other, rattling their ice cubes, calling out their orders to the cocktail waitress. I’ve never tried to sell a song to an audience, and it turns out I have a soft voice.”
“You’ll have a microphone,” Sid told her.
“I don’t know about that. I’ve never used a microphone. Well, maybe once or twice in a piano bar, but really, I don’t know how.”
Sid leaned back in his chair and scratched his jaw. “Okay,” he said. “So maybe we got a problem, but maybe we don’t. Let’s try you out tonight. I expect the room will be about half full. I’ll get the word out to people who matter. You be here at nine o’clock, and I’ll supply the mike. Try it out. If you can handle it, I want to give you two the gig. If it doesn’t work out, well, it doesn’t work out, no problemo. So tell me, what are you going to wear, sweetheart?”
“I’m taking care of that, Sid,” Casey said.
Sid laughed out loud. “Casey, buddy, I love you to death, but nobody has ever accused you of having any taste whatsoever in clothes. I don’t care what you wear, but I want this girl singer to knock them dead.”
Casey stood up from the piano bench, smiled at Diana, smiled at Sid, and told them both what nobody in the entertainment industry can stand to hear: “Trust me.”
———
At two o’clock that afternoon Karen rang the triangle out on the verandah, and within five minutes, the entire community of yellow people were gathered in the library, sitting in their large circle on the Persian carpet, holding hands in meditation. Tillie was a link in the flow of energy, sitting between Karen and Nqong. She didn’t know exactly what to think of this meditation mumbo-jumbo, but they seemed like decent people, these odd folk who had welcomed her into their meeting.
A squeeze of hands worked its way around the circle, and the meditation was over. Karen spoke. “Friends, we have Nqong back.” The Yellows hummed together to express their joy. “We can thank our friend Tillie here for bringing him back. Tillie, welcome to our home, thank you for that delicious lunch, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Beyond that, I don’t know much about you. Would you care to introduce yourself to us?”
Tilly nodded and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Matilda, and people mostly call me Tillie, at least to my face. I’ve had a bunch of last names, thanks to a series of short marriages, but the name I was given at birth was Matilda Springer, so I like to call myself Tillie Springer. I’m not named after a bug, or after a spring. You think I’m making this up, but I’m not. There’s a lot of magic about this place. I grew up in Anacapa County, and I’ve known about Hope Springs all my life, although all I knew was a bunch of wild tales of years gone by. Movie stars, and like that. Anyway, besides being married a number of times, I’ve also been a cook in any number of jobs, and I’m hoping to find a position cooking for some diner or restaurant in nearby Tecolote. I should be honest with you people and let you know that I’m in love with your Nqong, and that’s why I hope you’ll let me live here with you all if I can find a job in town. I should tell you that I use rough language sometimes, rudeness pisses me off, and I smoke cigarettes; but I understand that if I’m allowed to stay I’ll do all my smoking on the smoking bridge, and I can’t imagine any of you gentle people will turn out to be rude. I don’t own any yellow clothes, and I don’t think yellow’s my color, but I’m willing to give it a try. Since I’m sitting cross-legged on my ass, I don’t see any need to get down on bended knee, but I do hope you’ll let me stay here with you. I like this place. I even like the way it smells.”
Karen said, “Thank you, Tillie. Well, friends, I’d like to welcome Tillie to our family. Does anybody have any objection?”
No one raised a hand.
“I’m glad,” Karen said, “because I’ve already offered the carriage house to Tillie and Nqong.”
“You mean Nqong’s going to live down here in the valley?” Emily asked. “That would be so cool!”
Nqong held up his hand to speak, and the murmur of excitement turned to expe
ctant silence.
“I’m an old man now, my friends,” he said, “but Tillie has made me feel younger than I felt when I was young. Yes, I want to live down here among you, down in Hope Springs Valley. I’m tired of living alone, and I’m getting too ancient to climb the mountain. Yes, Theresa?”
“I’m glad you’ll be down here among us, Nqong, but what about our water? Are we never going to have hot water in the baths again?”
Nqong looked from Theresa to Herbert and said, “Herbert, would you be willing to take over for me? You’ve always shown an interest in the waterworks. I could teach you all there is to know this afternoon. You wouldn’t have to live up there in the water house. The water only needs adjusting once a week unless the weather changes suddenly, and even then the temperature of the water will stay constant for a few days. Herbert?”
Herbert grinned. “Count me in!”
Nqong smiled. “Then let’s hike up the mountain this afternoon, so I can teach you how to turn on that water. I understand the baths have been cold since I went away. I can teach you in one hour all you’ll need to know to make them hot again.”
“I’m your man,” Herbert answered. “Your water man.”
“What about Casey and Diana?” Beatrice asked. “Have they left us for good?”
Karen said, “Casey has left us, I’m afraid. He stayed with us for nine months, which is a long time for a piano player to spend in one spot.”
“And Diana?” Nels asked.
“I don’t know,” Karen answered. “She will be back tomorrow, but it may be just to pick up her stuff. She’s auditioning for a job as a singer. They may turn her down, or she may turn them down. If that happens, she’ll be back. She and Casey may find living alone together doesn’t work for them. Maybe she won’t like singing in saloons. All that smoke and all those loud drunks. Or she may love it. Whatever happens, she’ll be welcome to come back here, anytime she wants to. But if she finds a future out there in the uncivilized world, I’ll shed a tear and wish her well.”
Arthur asked, “What about dinner tonight? Are we on our own?”
Tillie held up her hand.
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