Tooner Schooner
Page 13
Chapter 20
“SURE LOOKS LIKE I’m In Bad, the Sailor,” Mrs. Feeley said Wednesday afternoon. Miss Tinkham sat poring over big, heavy books and a map that was spread on the table.
“You?” Mrs. Rasmussen gloomed. “I’m the one near got us killed. An’ he was so high on us before! Prolly never see him again.”
“He’ll be in a dreadful mood when Chartreuse approaches him about the divorce,” Miss Tinkham said. “The accident may affect my plans considerably.”
“I don’t think she’ll do it,” Mrs. Feeley said. “Them kind lets things slide.”
“We must not give up hope now. Things cannot go on this way,” Miss Tinkham said. “The captain is losing interest in his work, and poor Sunshine…”
“She’s gonna be a rickle o’ bones if she don’t stop fallin’ off her weight,” Mrs. Feeley said. She drank her beer in a dispirited fashion.
“Guess I’ll make us a steak with some berny-aze sauce,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “When you’re low in the boots, nothin’ like a steak to chirk you up.”
Miss Tinkham rolled up the map and put it in one of the cabinets.
“We have been working very hard and a little vacation will do us all good.”
Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen stared at her.
“Mr. Cobb and I have arranged a small but profitable charter party to leave as soon as possible. The cruise will last several weeks. It will take us about two weeks each way,” Miss Tinkham explained. “The small islands along the coast are delightful and we can make inland trips through Mexico. The boys can look after the court for us. Captain Dowdy told me that he has often thought of going down, but had not because of the language difficulty. Pilots, and so forth. We could manage the interpreting between us, I think. I’ll speak to him after Chartreuse’s reading tonight. There is a new type of moving picture at the Balboa,” she added.
“We ain’t been in ages,” Mrs. Feeley said. “But you’d need us here to keep an eye on the readin’…”
“All the interesting part is over,” Miss Tinkham said. “The rest is boring technical stuff. Go after supper. I’ll give you all the details when you come home.”
Mrs. Feeley’s face lifted a little at the prospect.
“An’ that trip sounds fun,” she said.
“Now that we’ve fouled things up to a fare-you-well,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
By ten o’clock Miss Tinkham began to feel definitely discouraged under Madam Gazza’s heavy trappings. The headdress was oppressive and she wished she had gone to the movies with her friends. She turned out the lights and made ready to go next door to nip a cold bottle of beer out of the icebox when she almost ran into Chartreuse at the door. She scurried back and took her place behind the crystal ball.
“Guess what, Madam!” Chartreuse was breathless; not waiting for Madam Gazza, the omniscient, to tell her what. “He’s gone!”
Madam carefully displayed no emotion.
“So?”
“He’s not there! The boat’s out…”
“Ah, yes. The boat.”
“He’s shoved off and the man he buys gas and oil from told me he had some kind of blow-up this morning and had to come back and dump the passengers off. Can you feature that? It’s just like him, selfish and not thinking of me just when I want to get a divorce off him!”
“All is not lost, my dear. He will not be gone long.”
“He won’t? The man told me Elisha said he wasn’t coming back till Christmas, maybe never. And this is only the third of May! Madder than a hornet, using vulgarity, and that’s the coarse kind of temperament I’ve had to live with…”
“Such rudeness to a delicate sensibility like yours,” Madam Gazza said. “All is for the best. The nine temples of Egypt assure your success.”
“Maybe you’re right. Madam. I went down like you said and was all set to ask him real nice. This way he won’t be able to talk me out of anything.”
“You have complied.” Madam Gazza bowed. “Can you arrange your affairs in such a way as to return to Arizona at once?”
“Can I?” Chartreuse yelped. “Ethelbert’s driving me crazy to go back, ever since I had a telegram offering to buy my place. I can start back tonight. My idea is to take the money while I can get it, but he says no and just has fits if I mention selling. What do you say?”
Madam Gazza consulted the crystal ball, then put her hands over her eyes. “Do nothing for ninety days. Nine and ninety are your numbers, the mystical nine which all philosophies acknowledge and honor. If everything about the offer is bona fide, it will keep. If it is a hoax, you will have a chance to find that out. Follow these sound principles, my dear, if you wish prosperity.”
“Maybe the value will go up. Now, how do I go about getting the divorce?”
Madam Gazza leaned forward over the crystal ball.
“Here is pencil and paper. Carry out my instructions to the letter; if you do not, the whole action will not only be worthless but will boomerang on you both in a most dire manner.”
Chartreuse nodded and gripped the pencil. Madam Gazza leaned closer and whispered the abracadabra. She made Chartreuse repeat the salient points to her, then checked the list herself to make sure all was in order.
“Having fulfilled the instructions in paragraph five,” Madam Gazza’s bony finger emphasized the item, “you promise to do with the result exactly what I have said? Remember that it is for your own safety!”
Chartreuse stretched as she got up.
“Madam, of course you know, if you pull this off for me, you’ll have a customer for life.” She reached into the transparent plastic box that passed for a handbag.
Madam Gazza smiled sadly.
“When one can read the rivers of life, my dear, and interpret the meaning of the stars, one’s personal life is freighted with sadness. Madam Gazza, as you know her, will not remain for long in the form you now behold. No, my dear, Madam Gazza’s usefulness on this planet is over.”
“You’re not going to die on me, Madam!” Chartreuse quavered. “Maybe you better come over to the Clinic. I’d give you professional rates.”
“Your concern touches me deeply,” Madam Gazza said. “Who knows but in some other form we shall meet again?”
“I’ll put the twenty-five in the jug, and thanks a lot, Madam.”
“There is no charge, my dear. My reward is in seeing people get what they deserve.”
“That’s a real nice way to look at it, but of course you know, us mystico-spiritual types always do. I’ll mail you that the minute I get it.”
Chapter 21
“DON’T EVEN FEEL like celebratin’ the Fourth o’ July tomorra,” Mrs. Feeley said. She sat on the steps of the duplex bus and finished a can of beer. “Ain’t none o’ you got one o’ them beach-pads or nothin’ for Sunshine to lay on out in the sun? She’s losin’ her tan.”
Miss Tinkham looked at the young girl. She had lost the coffee-and-cream-look. People with naturally dark skin turn grayish when frightened or unhappy, she thought. She slipped her hand into her book-bag and touched a small wallet inside of it as if to reassure herself. She pulled out a worn volume of Stevenson that cost fifteen cents at Ye Olde Booke Shoppe.
“To love is the great amulet
Which makes the world a garden;
And hope which comes to all,
Outwears the accidents of life
And reaches with a tremulous hand
Beyond the grave and death.”
“Couldn’t we just drink our beer and have you read aloud, Miss Tinkham?” Jasper said. “Would it be too much for you?”
“Nothing I should enjoy more,” she said.
“I like them grim fairy tales you read,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
Miss Tinkham smiled.
“Two Years Before the Mast,” Red said. “Stories about boats!”
Mrs. Feeley threw the beer can on the ground.
“Shut up, can’t you? We just moped along for two months now. Every time the post
man showed. Miss Tinkham an’ Sunshine near broke a leg. Mrs. Rasmussen’s face’s so long she could eat oats out of a churn!”
“The hell with him!” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“The hell without him.” For the first time in days Sunshine spoke without first being spoken to. Six heads turned to stare at her.
“She’s right,” Mrs. Feeley said. “There’s no luck about the house with that guy away.”
“He’s feeling worse than we are,” Miss Tinkham said. “Remember, he is in the wrong. He didn’t say goodbye.”
“Don’t look so sad, girl. It may not be true.” Mrs. Feeley patted Sunshine on the head and began pinching back the geraniums. “Three months we been after the tax collector. Wouldn’t you think they’d get up off their duff when it’s a question o’ collectin’ money?”
“What’s the difference?” Jasper said. “We’re paying fifty dollars a month rent apiece. You’re paying back a hundred a month on the investment.”
“Miss Tinkham said that way we’d be through in less’n two an’ a half years,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“Since Madam Gazza hasn’t been among those present lately,” Jasper said, “you should rent Red One.”
“Not yet!” Miss Tinkham cried. “Madam Gazza paid her rent until after Labor Day. Until she formally relinquishes the place and takes her sign down, the premises are hers. We do not know what minute she may reappear.”
“Only ones I’d ever throw out,” Mrs. Feeley said, “was some cheap moocher or chiseler that thought he was sittin’ down in a butter tub.”
“We can let you have the money for the taxes any time you need it,” Oscar said.
“Don’t you think it’s time you went in and practiced ‘The Glowworm,’ Oscar?” Miss Tinkham said.
“Purty,” Mrs. Feeley said. “Classical too.”
“Since our prospect of a cruise with the late lamented captain is dim,” Miss Tinkham said, “a change of scene might be beneficial. Tomorrow is the Fourth and the town will be overrun…”
“Tonight is Sunshine’s night off,” Red said. “We could go where the marimba band is. Do her good to have a change. What you say?”
“Miss Tinkham!” Darleen came up the driveway. “Velma phoned and said would you please call back right away.”
“Hold everything.” Miss Tinkham went across the street with Darleen. “The deed is done.” Miss Tinkham came back beaming. “Velma says they were driving by the foot of Broadway and she overtook them in her car.”
“Who, for gossakes?” Mrs. Feeley shouted.
“Chartreuse and Ethelbert! They are man and wife. Sunshine,” Miss Tinkham called, “Captain Dowdy, whether he knows it or not, is a free man!”
“Calls for a celebration!” Mrs. Feeley said.
“Gotta track him down first. You can’t never put no reliance in how a man’s gonna take things,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“How else could he take it?” Miss Tinkham cried. “Anyone could see he couldn’t bear to stay where Sunshine was, knowing he could not offer her marriage. I feel quite certain that was the true reason for his departure.”
“What you got to say, Sunshine?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“He say to me he love me very much, but he don’t see not much chance for us. I say the same.” Sunshine went on brushing her hair and staring sadly ahead.
“Well,” Mrs. Feeley said, “he’s free o’ her, an’ them two’s hitched legal enough, if you can b’lieve anythin’ they say.”
“Velma said they were at the certificate-waving stage, and showed her a certified copy of the divorce,” Miss Tinkham said.
“They’re great hands to talk about it while they’re still hitched,” Mrs. Rasmussen said dourly.
“It’s simple chemistry,” Miss Tinkham said, “and the fizz soon wears off even that, but I think Captain Dowdy’s feeling for Sunshine is more than a passing fancy.”
“When they go off their feed,” Mrs. Rasmussen said, “it’s pretty serious. I seen the night it happened. The night Sunshine danced here at home.”
“Aw, what we gettin’ all drippy for?” Mrs. Feeley said. “Time Sunshine started thinkin’ about raisin’ her a family. Look at all the nice fellers we know ain’t got their feelin’s stickin’ out a mile. He was awful touchy, that one. He had a yeller streak or he’d a broke off with Chartreuse long time ago…” she stopped as she saw big, pearly tears running slowly down Sunshine’s face. “I’m only racin’ my motor, Sunshine. I love the big lug damn near as much as you do! Cheer up! You got everythin’, girl! An’ brains, too.”
“It’s so difficult, under stress, to do nothing,” Miss Tinkham said.
“Sad, too,” Mrs. Feeley said, “like when that feller denounced the throne that time.”
Mrs. Rasmussen went over to the girl and handed her a Kleenex. “You know we’d give you the sun, moon an’ stars with a little silver fence round it if we could.”
The men rose, a little embarrassed.
“Don’t go, please,” Miss Tinkham said. “I need your help to remove a sign.”
Chapter 22
“NOBODY BUT SUNSHINE has been near the Club in weeks,” Velma said Monday evening as she took the beer Mrs. Rasmussen offered her.
“We ain’t had the heart, Velma.” Mrs. Feeley rocked slowly.
“Thought surely you would come the night of the Fourth.”
“We had a hangover down to our knees,” Miss Tinkham said.
“You really missed it.” Velma smiled. “The newlyweds are all sanctified and fumigated. They’re both singing the praises of Madam Gazza. It seems her prediction about the value of the land has come true.”
Miss Tinkham smiled. “How interesting!”
“The Clinic slowed down to a crawl. Two days before the marriage, a movie company showed up with a good offer to lease the place for a big western. Ethelbert is convinced that his prosperity is linked with Chartreuse.”
“Odd she didn’t take it as meaning her chance to be discovered had come at last,” Miss Tinkham said.
“The movie people were too smart for that; they wouldn’t lease unless they both got out of town.”
“Too bad if they want another readin’,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“Madam Gazza’s ilk leaves footprints in the sands of time that even an Indian couldn’t find,” Miss Tinkham laughed.
“Sunshine still goin’ over big?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“Best attraction I’ve ever had.”
“Here she comes,” Mrs. Feeley said. “I wisht she’d fill out some. Losin’ her dimples.”
“Listening for a voice that never calls, a footstep that never falls,” Miss Tinkham sighed. “It’s the quickest way to reduce.”
“Ride down with me, Sunshine,” Velma said.
“While we are speaking together, I must tell you that next week, if you can supply a dancer for my place, I wish very much to say tofá and go back to Tutuila.”
“He is bound to come back soon, Sunshine,” Miss Tinkham said. “Think of him, having to sail nearly eleven thousand miles to propose to you if you go home now.” Sunshine shook her head.
“He has no thoughts for me. A postal card costing less than ten cents.”
“Ah, girl!” Mrs. Feeley shouted. “Them big lunks don’t never write. They mostly don’t know how, like me. Just because he’s big an’ rough, you think he don’t feel nothin’!”
“With me can be little happiness for him. Samoan to Samoan, my father say. Palanggy to palanggy. Many sailors marry Samoans. They must live in the bad places of the city, or maybe Panama. The best life they can having is retired to Samoa on a pension or maybe Honolulu.”
“That’s looking it square in the face,” Velma said, “but if the man cares for you he has a right to say so.”
“It breaks my heart, child, to have you know so much so soon.” Miss Tinkham blew her nose gently. “You are wiser than we are.”
“She’d change her tune quick enough was he to walk in,” Mrs. Feeley said.
“I wish you could be right, my king-áh,” Sunshine said. “I have much money now. For my father I will build a classy folly. No half-caste house! Then I will learn to be a nurse in the Lambert Institute in Fiji.”
“That’s sound thinking, Sunshine. But give him a chance,” Velma said.
“I ’spect the big ock to stomp in any minute,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. She beckoned to Velma. Inside the icebox reposed a magnificent bird, gleaming golden brown under a glaze. “I boned me a capon an’ stuffed it with forced meat.”
Mrs. Feeley licked her chops.
“I ain’t gonna wait for no Tooner to get my jaws goin’ on that!”
“We got crown roast o’ lamb, new potatoes, carrots in honey an’ lemon butter, mint sauce an’ endive with rockyfort. I ain’t cuttin’ the capon.”
“The ways of love are rougher far than thoroughfares of stone,” Miss Tinkham quoted. “Remember the injunction to the young Queen, Sunshine: ‘Be strong, and of good courage’!”
“Ain’t you glad you ain’t twenty?” Mrs. Feeley sighed as she watched Velma and Sunshine go down the driveway.
Mrs. Rasmussen poured out cold beer. “It hurts just as bad when you’re old enough to know better. The lamb’ll be done in ten minutes.”
Miss Tinkham turned on the radio and began to arrange the camellias Mrs. Feeley had picked. She doddled her head in time to the music:
“‘Blues in the Night.’ The lyrics tell the complete story of human disenchantment.”
She turned suddenly as something whizzed past her head. It was Captain Elisha Dowdy’s yachting cap.
“Allowed I better throw my hat in fust!” he boomed from the door.
“Tooner!” Mrs. Feeley came away from the icebox with a shriek.