by Gwen Mayo
They stepped onto the perfectly kept fairway and paused for a moment to admire the view. The lush green course, dotted with tropical plants, was a delight to behold.
Cornelia sighed. “I’m going to miss the gulf views and tropical greenery when I leave.”
He patted her arm as they walked toward the tee. “From what you’ve told me, the Rockies have their own appeal. I’m looking forward to seeing them this spring. Do you know I have never been west of the Mississippi?”
“It is quite different. I look forward to showing you around. Maybe we can find time to drive into Denver and tour the mint. Have you ever watched new coins being minted?”
“No, but I’d be interested in seeing the machinery at work.” The professor gestured. “There’s the ladies’ tee, my dear.”
Cornelia snorted. “Only if you use it first.”
“Ladies always go first. They say you are the weaker sex.”
“No, we are the fairer sex. I’m thinking you should use this tee, too, at your age.”
“Harumph. An active man of seventy-five shouldn’t need to use the ladies’ tee.”
“If we were referring to an active man of seventy-five, I might agree. I’ve never understood your attraction to that number. You’ve been stuck there for years.”
“I’m only a little older than seventy-five.”
“At least a decade older.”
Uncle Percival lifted a finger to his brow. “Really? I forget.”
“That’s poppycock. You never forget anything. I propose that we use the same tee for handicapping purposes.”
“Are you making a wager?”
“Only if it will make this game begin faster.”
Despite a pleasant sea breeze that played in the palm trees, the morning quickly became warm. By the ninth hole, Cornelia was ready for a break, not that she was willing to admit that to her uncle. He looked better than he had in some time. Maybe being drawn into the Greek chain dances and having more than one glass of ouzo at the festival was good for him. The irony of her uncle being in the pink while she wilted did not escape her. Thankfully, a foursome asked to play through.
Her uncle suggested they have a cool drink before playing the back nine.
"I've been thinking since Homosassa,” the professor said as they walked toward the clubhouse. “The weather here is much more agreeable than Kentucky at this time of year.”
“Yes. Snow and ice are more exciting for children than adults.”
“I know that you need to go back to Colorado, but I would like to spend the rest of the winter here.”
Cornelia was surprised, but pleased. The pneumonia he’d developed the previous November had given her a bad scare. The climate in Florida was damp, but at least it was warm. “The papers are full of real estate ads. I’m sure you could buy or design an excellent home.”
He shook his head. “There are too many ads, not to mention some negative rumblings about prices. Besides, I would like to see more of the area before I purchased land for a winter residence. For the time being, I think I would be better off renting a place.” He asked the waiter to bring them water before continuing. “I hadn’t given thought to designing the house myself. The idea tickles my fancy.”
“Just be sure it’s not on swampland.”
“Hammock land, Cornelia, hammock land. They never say swampland. But we digress. I need to ask your opinion on Teddy.”
“Teddy?”
“If you return to Colorado, and I remain here, where will she go? I don’t think she’d be happy in Kentucky by herself.”
“No,” Cornelia said. “She’s not really farmer material, and the climate there isn’t good for her lungs. The damp air at the festival had her coughing most of the night. It would have been worse in Kentucky. I could take her back with me until we can return together. I’ll need to let Mr. Scroggins know that he should keep an eye on the farm for a while longer.”
“I have a different idea,” the professor said, “if you’re both amenable to it. She doesn’t know many people in Kentucky, and I know no one here. I propose that I rent a place large enough for the two of us. Outside of one disagreeable individual, she seems to be enjoying the climate.”
“Speaking of disagreeable individuals ...” Cornelia said, nodding toward the front entrance.
The professor turned his head and saw a red-faced Ansel Stevens approaching the Moorish archway. His oldest son trudged along beside him, carrying both sets of clubs. Mac wasn’t talking back, but the set of his jaw and the way his lips pressed together made Cornelia think that his silence was maintained with great effort.
“Does that man ever speak to his family without yelling?” Cornelia asked. “Whenever I see him, he is bullying one of his children.”
“Young Mac isn’t one to be bullied. He may not backtalk his father, but there’s no surrender in his eyes. Mr. Stevens would be well advised to let him keep his aeroplane.”
“Have you heard this argument before?”
Professor Pettijohn picked up the menu their waiter had left and glanced down the list. “No, but Mac there has bought himself one of the surplus jennies the military is selling. Apparently, his father doesn’t approve. Wants him to get rid of it.”
“How could you know that? Even I can’t hear them at this distance, and my hearing is excellent.”
Her uncle grinned. “And I have excellent eyesight. I don’t need my hearing device to read lips. Mr. Stevens ordered him to sell the jenny and devote himself to the family business.”
Cornelia took another sip of her water and sponged the sweat from her brow with her handkerchief. “Uncle, you’re incorrigible.”
“Isn’t that what you love most about me, Corny?” His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he chuckled. “Why don’t we have a bite to eat before we go back to our game? The grouper sandwich sounds delicious.”
She bit back the urge to remind him again that she hated that nickname. It was a beautiful day in one of the loveliest places she’d ever seen. The clubhouse was decorated in imported Moorish tiles, with graceful arching windows overlooking swaying palms and deep blue water. “I don’t have the constitution for fried food on a day this warm, especially after indulging in all those exotic Greek dishes last night. The seasonal fruit plate with pineapple sherbet should be quite refreshing.”
Teddy filled out a postcard for Kathleen, a young friend she’d made in Homosassa, and dropped it off at the front desk of the hotel before starting her hunt for suitable hats. The city trolleys made visiting the stores of Central Avenue convenient, and quite economical.
She strolled through the shops she’d visited before, but none of the hats struck her fancy. Perhaps it was because she’d seen them during her first shopping trip, or perhaps it was because too many of them looked like ones from the clothing catalogs delivered to the house in Kentucky. She left Central Avenue and explored the connecting streets.
She finally stopped in front of a window with a sign: LAST DAY TO BUY FROM BERBER’S. She didn’t know who Berber was, or why someone would want to buy anything from him or her, but there was an adorable straw hat on display next to the placard. It sported a broad jacquard sash across the front and tropical blossoms on the side.
The bell tinkled when she entered the store, a lonely call to the sole person on duty, a tiny middle-aged woman. She smiled at Teddy, but her hands, small and neat, clutched the edge of the counter.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes, you may,” Teddy said. “I would very much like to see the hat in the window. The one with the jacaranda blossoms.”
“An excellent choice. Please, have a seat by the mirror while I fetch it.”
The hat was, indeed, an excellent choice. It was stylish, broad-brimmed enough to keep the sun out of her face, and the tropical flowers added a splash of exotic to the jacquard elegance.
Teddy admired the way it framed her face. It would go well with the light jacket she’d purchased during Thursday’s expedi
tion.
“Do you have a hand mirror, Miss, er …?”
“Rena. I’m sorry, it’s at the counter. I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, Rena.” The bald announcement in the window hadn’t done justice to the charming little store or the elfish woman working there. Her small display window held about a dozen hats, but inside the store, shelves were stacked with every style hat imaginable. Teddy had intended to buy a single hat suitable for afternoon functions, but she’d spotted at least a dozen others that she was dying to try on. They were all so lovely, and on sale.
When the woman returned with the smaller mirror, Teddy used it to check the bow in back. “Very, very nice. So, tell me, why is Berber’s closing when it has such wonderful hats?”
“It’s not exactly closing. Mr. Berber sold the store for a handsome sum to a man from Michigan. So today is the last day this place is Berber’s.” Rena took the mirror back and sighed.
“Will you be staying on with the new owners?” Teddy knew the answer already, but the question needed to be asked.
“No. He’s moving his family down here permanently, and he has daughters to work in the shop. I was informed that my services would not be needed.”
“But you keep an excellent shop.”
“Thank you.”
“Surely another store would be happy to have you. Do you have a place to go?”
Rena shook her head. “Not yet. I’m going to try my luck in Sarasota; I have a friend I can stay with while I look.”
“I’m sure you will land on your feet.” Teddy glanced around the shop again. Admiration filled her eyes as she examined the way Rena’s arrangements complemented all the rich colors and textures of the hats. “Tell me, do you receive a commission for hat sales?”
“Yes, I do, but today,” Rena said, “Mr. Berber told me I could have all proceeds.”
Only the certain knowledge that Cornelia would be apoplectic kept her from buying more than three. One for the sun, one because she had to have it, and a broad-brimmed telescope one that would make a perfect gift for Cornelia.
Rena was all too pleased to help her. The two women spent a pleasant hour chatting about hats, fashion, and St. Petersburg.
Teddy wore one of her new purchases when she left the shop. The clerk was kind enough to wrap the one she’d worn and tuck it into her shopping bag. She paused to admire a beaded purse in a window display. It was too bad that Shirley was at work. The trip would have been more fun shared with someone who had an eye for style. That always ruled out Cornelia. She would have begrudged any time spent looking in shop windows. Besides, even her civilian clothes were a uniform: utilitarian, comfortable, and drab.
Two stores down, a shoe shop with a large banner proclaiming “Under New Management” in bright red letters caught her attention. She was about to enter, when she saw Violet Stevens and her muscular young man with the large ears going into a small corner cafe. Teddy was immediately famished. She feigned interest in shoes until the couple was out of sight, then headed toward the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken.
A pimple-faced youngster who looked uncomfortable in his crisp white shirt and black bow tie greeted her. “Only one, ma’am?”
Teddy nodded.
She smiled as he led her to a high-backed oak booth directly behind the one occupied by the pair. The boy couldn’t have chosen a better table if he’d known she was as interested in sating her curiosity about Ansel’s daughter as she was in satisfying her appetite. She couldn’t see the couple, but the location gave excellent concealment with the added benefit of being able to hear every word the lovebirds uttered.
Violet requested coffee; her suitor declined to order.
Later, Cornelia would scold her for eavesdropping—if she found out. Teddy was used to her growls. Unlike the nurses she ordered about, Teddy knew what an old softie was behind that bark. Besides, she reasoned, she hadn’t set out to spy on Violet. She had finished her shopping, and merely stopped for lunch at the closest place. It wasn’t her fault that the couple happened to have chosen a cafe close to the hat shop, or that her waiter decided to seat her directly behind Violet Stevens and her beau. After the rough way her father dragged Violet away from the waterfront, she was concerned for the girl’s safety.
The young man’s voice was a pleasant tenor. “Violet, sweetheart, your father doesn’t have the right to bully you. Look at the bruises his rough handling made on your arm. I should have told him yesterday that we were already married, instead of trying to find a way to pry his fist open. If he lays a hand on you again, I’ll break his neck.”
“Please, Harry, that would only make things worse.”
The fear in Violet’s plea reminded Teddy of her own experience with the brute. Her appetite vanished.
“Nonsense.” His tone was hushed, but the force of Harry’s words reverberated. “Tomorrow, this cat and mouse game ends. Come with me in the race. You can stay in the cabin until we’re underway. No. Wait. I have a better idea. Be my mate. Come up on deck beside me and show him that we don’t give a fig.”
“What about Mother? He’ll take it out on her.”
“Your brother Mac won’t allow that. He is going to be with your father until this race is over. Afterwards, I told him that we are willing to take your mother with us or help her get away. You know how unhappy she is with that monster.”
“He’s not a monster, Harry, just strict.”
In the silence that followed, Teddy formed a mental picture of the look of incredulity on Harry’s face.
“Do you believe Father will keep his word?” Violet asked.
“He won’t have any other choice. Everyone at the Yacht Club already knows about our wager. Your father cannot afford to welsh in front of his business associates. Construction is a business that demands absolute faith in a man’s word. He would never get another contract. Trust me. Before Monday morning, it isn’t going to matter what your father thinks of me.”
“Oh Harry, I wish I were as brave as you. I’m not.”
“Then I will be brave enough for both of us.”
There was a long silence, and then short breaths that made Teddy believe she was weeping.
“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “You are safe with me. All the happiness you could want is waiting for you. You’ll see. There is nothing like being aboard a finely crafted yacht, coursing through the water at speed—the Silver Breeze has a cruising speed of over ten knots. It is impossible not to smile and love life under her sails.”
She sniffed. “You make it all sound so wonderful.”
“It will be wonderful, win or lose. No more sneaking around, no more living in separate places. We’ll have a real honeymoon in the Caribbean; we’ll tour Cuba, Jamaica, Barbados, and dozens of other islands. Then we’ll come back and find a place on land to call home. Either way, you never have to be bullied by your father again.”
The back nine played faster than Cornelia had expected. She shot two birdies back to back and was feeling proud of herself for taking the lead. Then the professor got an eagle on the seventeenth hole and tied the score. She still might have won if it hadn’t been for an unfortunate incident on what should have been her final putt. As she approached the green, a Boston Terrier grabbed the ball and disappeared into the lush greenery near the water. She was about to give chase, but the sight of a gator made her reconsider. The loss of her ball gave her uncle the advantage, and he didn’t waste the opportunity.
On the bus back to the hotel, he regaled the other passengers with the story. To her chagrin, he referred to her as “Corny” at least a dozen times while spinning his yarn. She took the annoying nickname and the jibes of the golfers with as much grace as she could muster. Over the years she had witnessed several golfing incidents, including one in the Philippines where a monkey leapt onto the back of the hospital surgeon as he started his swing.
She would have shared the story with Teddy, had it not been for the look of bewilderment on her face when they walked into the s
uite.
“Miss Theodora, it’s good to see you’re up and about,” the professor said. “How are you feeling today?”
Teddy opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked from one to the other. The professor looked like a binder boy who had consumed a half dozen pints of Rip Van Winkle’s ale, slept far more than twenty years, and awoke still dressed to hawk real estate from the street corner. She had seen him in outlandish costume before, but Cornelia … Never in her wildest imaginings would she have pictured Cornelia dressed in pastel shades of pink and green. Someone had spirited the real Cornelia away and replaced her with an enormous Easter egg topped by a huge pom-pom.
“When did you get that?” Teddy asked, pointing to Cornelia’s golfing cap.
Cornelia reached up and adjusted the brim. “This morning. It was a gift from Uncle Percival. He wanted to play a round of golf, and I didn’t bring anything suitable for sport.”
Teddy thought the sport in question was to embarrass Cornelia. The smile beaming through Professor Pettijohn’s snowy whiskers told her otherwise. He was delighted with the purchase. She refrained from comment. At least he’d gotten Cornelia out of mourning colors for a while.
Teddy had wanted to visit the Vinoy ballroom from the moment she’d had her first peek inside. She was positively glowing in a peacock blue sequined gown that captured the shimmering lights. Tonight, she’d taken special care with her makeup. After all, seeing Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra live was a rare treat. It was easy to see that some of the color in her cheeks was excitement instead of cosmetics.
Cornelia was dressed in the gown Teddy picked out for her. She felt self-conscious in the pale champagne color, but both her companions assured her the dress looked wonderful. Her complexion was another matter. She had cheeks as rosy as Teddy’s. Unfortunately, her color was from a golf outing with too much sun and too little face cream. The years spent in Colorado had done away with her tan. A brown paper and vinegar plaster had pulled most of the heat away, but the color would remain until the skin peeled. She trusted it more than the Noxzema Teddy offered. Cornelia was glad Teddy had refrained from those evil words, “I told you so.”