Seventeen
Friday, January 25, 1856
The day passed with agonizing slowness. Kathryn hurried through her hotel duties and returned to the café to spend the afternoon in the company of her friends. One didn’t want to be alone at a time like this, ears straining for the warning sound of gunshots and nerves jumping at every creaking board or calling bird.
Apparently she was not alone in her need for companionship. Throughout the long afternoon the restaurant played host to a dozen ladies who showed up with knitting, mending, and other busywork. Afraid to let the children play outside, they set up a table for the little ones on one side of the room and clustered together on the other. Their talk centered on mundane matters like recipes for cooking salmon and the rising price of cotton wool. No one mentioned Indians or the blockhouse or the war that loomed over their heads like storm clouds.
In the afternoon the now-familiar call rang out, relayed over and over throughout the town until it reached their ears.
“Ship in the bay!”
Kathryn looked up from the frayed hem on a shirt she was mending, a gift for one of the Indian children. “Shall we go down to the harbor and meet the ship?”
The suggestion met with a lackluster response. No one, it seemed, wanted to stray that far from the blockhouse. With a sigh she returned to her busywork.
When she finished mending the garment she piled it in a stack of others that had been worked on by the ladies during the afternoon and left the restaurant to deliver the gifts. In the hotel’s front room the Indian women greeted her with silent nods. On a less stressful day she would have been amused to see that they had arranged themselves almost exactly as their white neighbors, with the women sitting cross-legged together while the children played a game involving small piles of stones. Today she could not muster even a smile. The tension here was every bit as thick as next door. She delivered the stack of garments and went to her room. Perhaps she could read a bit of poetry to the children next door. The older ones might appreciate it.
Ten minutes later she headed back toward Evie’s carrying four books. Keats would probably be a bit much for them, but perhaps they would enjoy Coleridge.
She approached the open doorway to find a woman standing just inside. She could only see her from behind, but her attention was drawn to an elaborately decorated bonnet. It perched atop a mass of dark curls that fell in deliberate disarray over a bright yellow shawl. Beneath the loose-knit wool blazed a dress of silky crimson, thick layers of yellow ruffles cascading downward from a bustle to dance around the hem. Her eyebrows crept upward at the short length of the hem and the pair of shapely ankles that clearly showed below the yellow lace. No lady in Seattle would possess such a garment. In fact, no lady would wear a garment like that in public, especially in a respectable establishment like Evangeline’s Café. This woman must have arrived on the ship, though why she would parade through town dressed like that, Kathryn couldn’t imagine.
She stepped into a shocked silence. A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her. Their astonishment was so apparent she took an involuntary step away from the newcomer. From where she was seated in a chair at the nearest table, Louisa’s mouth fell open, her jaw slack.
“Oh. My. Word.” Moving in slow motion, Evie pulled out a chair and sank into it.
The stranger let out a laugh. “Well I have to say, I’m used to drawing folks’ attention, but you gals take the cake.”
Wait. Kathryn knew that voice.
She turned and let her gaze sweep over the woman. The dress’s hem rose to a risqué height in the front while the neckline plunged in a scandalous V. A liberal amount of rouge colored two smooth cheeks, and her lips had been painted the same bright red hue as her dress. A beauty mark rode high on her left cheekbone.
But it was her eyes that gave her away. Thickly lined lashes blinked over eyes the same shade of green as her own.
The painted lips spread into a delighted grin and the woman exclaimed, “Katie! What in the world are you doing here?”
Stunned, Kathryn reeled backward and managed to lean her weight on the doorjamb before her weak legs dumped her on the floor. She narrowed her eyes and peered again, trying to see through the thick face paint.
In a tone of utter disbelief, Letitia asked, “Kathryn, do you know this…woman?”
The familiar stranger in front of her swept forward in a rustle of silk and lace to gather her in a hug. “Of course she knows her own sister. Right, Katie?”
Numbly, Kathryn nodded. “This is Susan,” she managed to mumble. “She’s my twin.”
The café emptied in a hurry. Seattle’s ladies hustled their children out of the restaurant with many a scandalized stare in Susan’s direction. From her position near the window, Kathryn heard snatches of their hushed whispers as they hastened away.
“Did you see…”
“…never in my life thought…”
“…exactly alike…”
Kathryn’s face burned, and an alarming buzz in her ears threatened to rob her of consciousness. Could it really be Susan, dressed like a…like a…
She couldn’t finish the thought and stumbled on shaky legs across the room. She needed tea, and the stronger the better.
Louisa sent a protesting Inez home with Mrs. Moreland. Finally only Evie, Letitia, and Louisa remained. They seated themselves in a row opposite Susan, who was forced to perch sideways on a chair to accommodate her bustle. Their stares volleyed back and forth between the sisters.
“The resemblance is really quite remarkable.” Evie’s voice held a note of fascination.
Louisa, hands resting on top of her round belly, glanced up at Kathryn’s face as she approached the table with a tray of empty teacups. “Except for the, uh, obvious differences, I doubt I could tell the two of you apart.”
Kathryn set a cup and saucer in front of her sister. The “obvious differences” were embarrassingly visible, and she was torn between humiliation and stunned curiosity. What had happened to Susan to turn her into this…this…she couldn’t come up with a word to describe her twin. Her tongue caught in a fit of paralysis, she couldn’t muster a comment.
Susan had no trouble answering in an easy, familiar manner. But then again, she had always been the more talkative of the two.
“When we were real little sometimes even our parents couldn’t tell us apart. Mama dressed us in different colors to keep us straight.” The ruby lips parted to release a giggle. “ ’Course, when we were older we switched clothes to fool them.” She leaned over the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The only way to tell for sure is the mole on Katie’s—”
“Who wants tea?” Kathryn asked in a near-shout, horror buzzing in her head like a bee. She most certainly did not want her anatomy discussed, even among her friends.
Susan sat back, a knowing grin twitching her painted lips. “I do.”
Kathryn filled both their cups and then slid into a chair opposite Louisa. She pushed the sugar bowl sideways, within her sister’s reach.
“No, thank you.” Susan pushed it away, picked up her cup, and blew into the steam.
“You always sweetened your tea before,” Kathryn remarked. Inconsequential, but her numb brain refused to focus on anything of import.
“Not anymore. Gotta watch this girlish figure.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Letitia broke her unusual silence in a dry voice. “In that dress I’m sure there are a lot of others watching it for you.”
Susan gave another giggle and winked broadly. “You know it.”
An embarrassed pause followed the remark.
Evie broke her fascinated stare with a little shake of her head. “Did you come to Seattle to find your sister?”
“I assume Papa told you where to find me,” Kathryn said. Susan had been absent from the family for five years. What did their parents think when she showed up looking like…well, like this? She tried to imagine their reaction and failed.
“No. I haven�
�t talked to him.” For the first time, Susan looked uncomfortable. She fidgeted on the chair and fingered a ruffle on her skirt. Then she straightened her shoulders and the cheerful smile returned. “I heard Seattle has a whole bunch of men and they’re just dying for a little socializing.” Her eyebrows waggled. “I heard some of the gals back in Yuba City talking. Seems there’s a woman here who’s open to giving a girl a chance. So I decided to see if there’s any truth to what they said.” She straightened and tossed her head with a flounce of curls. “I’m aiming to work at a place called the Faulkner House.”
Kathryn exchanged a surprised glance with Evie. What were the odds that Susan and she, who had obviously traveled very different roads over the past five years, would both end up in Seattle working for Madame?
“What an extraordinary coincidence,” she said. “I work at the Faulkner House. Papa arranged it.”
Now it was Susan’s turn to look shocked. “Our Papa fixed it up for you to come to Seattle?”
Kathryn nodded. “The hotel manager is a distant cousin. Papa wrote to her several months ago and arranged for me to be her…” She cleared her throat. “Her assistant manager.”
“This really is quite extraordinary.” Letitia turned an excited expression toward Louisa. “I’ve heard of the peculiar connection between twins. This is proof. Somehow the two of them have come to the same place with the same purpose. It’s remarkable, when you think about it.”
Susan’s eyes flitted down to Kathryn’s dress and then up to her hair, a look of disbelief settling over her features. “What does an assistant manager do, exactly?”
Kathryn picked up her spoon and gave her tea an unnecessary stir. “Exactly what it sounds like. I help Madame in managing the hotel. I make sure the guests are comfortable, and their rooms are clean and—”
She was interrupted by a harsh laugh. “Trust me, honey. I’m not planning on cleaning any rooms.”
“Well I wasn’t either,” Kathryn admitted. “But when I arrived, Madame explained that a manager’s first job is to keep the customers happy.”
“Oh, I’ll keep them happy all right.” She extended a foot. “These shoes might look stylish and uncomfortable, but I can dance in them all night long. And if there’s a piano I can sing like a bird.” She gave another of those embarrassingly suggestive winks. “The more whiskey gets poured, the better I sound. ’Course some of my songs aren’t exactly fit for Sundays, if you know what I mean.”
Four mouths dropped open. Kathryn’s breath had become trapped in her lungs, which threatened to explode with the pressure. Her twin sister was a saloon girl.
Susan’s glance traveled around the table, and a chuckle sent her curls rippling around her head. “I can see by the looks on your faces you don’t approve. That’s all right. I’m used to that reaction from ladies like yourselves, but according to what I heard, this Madame Garritson understands that lonely men see things different.”
“Oh?” Evie shot to her feet, her spine rigid and her face splotched. “We’ll see about that!” She pushed her chair out of the way with enough force to send it crashing to the floor.
“I’ll go with you.” Letitia rose with a little more composure, though her expression was no less choleric than Evie’s.
Mumbling something about retrieving Inez from the Morelands, Louisa hefted herself out of her chair and, with a sympathetic look toward Kathryn, followed the other two from the restaurant.
“Well.” Susan picked up her teacup with measured nonchalance. “I guess Madame Garritson hasn’t told those three about her plans for a dance hall, huh?”
A thousand questions burned in Kathryn’s mind. What had happened to Susan to turn her from the daughter of successful financier into a saloon dancer? She glanced at the door. A dozen ladies had witnessed her arrival. No doubt word had already begun to spread through Seattle. At any moment, inquisitive townspeople might come to see Kathryn Bergert’s twin sister for themselves.
She pushed her teacup away and stood. This was not the place to question Susan. “Let’s go next door. My room is small, but at least it’s private. We can talk there.”
And perhaps then she could convince her sister to put on a decent dress.
“Goodnight, Jason.”
Jason looked up from the ledger to find Don standing in the doorway of the office. Was it quitting time for the second shift already? The evening had snuck up on him.
He tossed the pencil on the page and rubbed the indentation in his middle finger with the other hand. “I lost track of time. Did we get that shipment wrapped up?”
“Sure did.” The man’s chest swelled with justified pried. “We ain’t never missed a deadline yet in all the years this mill’s been cutting timber.”
“Good job.” He gave the man a congratulatory smile. “This is the smoothest mill operation I’ve ever seen, thanks mostly to you and Will.”
“And to the best crew anywhere.” Don’s head jerked in a final farewell and he left.
Jason leaned back in the chair and watched through the window as the men filed out of the shed to disappear in the night. He stretched his back, which had been hunched over the desk since his supper of strong coffee, bread, and cheese left over from lunch. He eyed a stack of correspondence on the corner. Three more letters to answer. Problem was, now that he’d been interrupted, he’d become aware that his muscles were stiff—and his brain too. Probably couldn’t put two words together that would make sense.
No, better head on up to the hotel and call it a night early. Of course he could stop by the café and grab a bite.
He rejected that idea. After last night’s disturbing conversation with Kathryn, he wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. Not until he’d had a chance to sort through the jumble of thoughts that crowded him every time her image rose unbidden in his mind’s eye. And that was far more often than he was comfortable with.
Dousing the lantern, he left the office in time to join the last group of workers as they left the shed. He fell in beside them for the walk up the street. They acknowledged him with nods and continued their conversation.
“Yeah, Leonard said she was all get up like a fancy lady, full of smiles and such. Said she looked mighty purty.”
Jason half listened to the man. What was his name? Bailey…or something like that. He didn’t know the men on the second shift as well as the first since he’d spent so much time working on the blockhouse. Now that it was finished he was finally becoming familiar with them.
“I heard she even had feathers sticking up out of her hat,” said another. Jason eyed him sideways. Harris. That was his name.
“No kidding?” Dorsey, one of the log setters, gave a low whistle. “Wish I coulda seen that.”
“Think she’d still be at the restaurant? She stays kind of late, don’t she?”
Jason jerked his head toward the man. The restaurant?
“Not this late,” answered Harris. “But I’m gonna get up early and head over there for breakfast. Maybe she’ll get all gussied up tomorrow too. Start a man’s day right, it will, seeing a purty girl serving up flapjacks and eggs.”
“Are you talking about Evie Hughes?” Jason asked. He couldn’t imagine Evie wearing a feathered hat, but she’d certainly been more emotional lately. Some women were when they were expecting.
“Nah, not Miz Hughes. The new gal. Miz Bergert.”
He came to a halt and stared at the man. “Kathryn?”
“Yeah,” said Bailey. “Some of the guys said she came to town this afternoon all dressed up in a frilly red dress and with her hair all fancy. Smiling big as all get-out and cutting jokes with fellas. Said she invited them to come visit her up at the Faulkner House in a couple of days.”
“Are you sure?” He shook his head, trying to picture Kathryn in frills.
Harris shrugged. “Leonard’s seen her at the restaurant enough to recognize her. Said she was acting friendlier than usual, though. He wondered if maybe she’d been…you know.” He tipped an imaginary bo
ttle to his lips.
They reached the crossroad then. The men bid him farewell and turned toward the row of small cabins that housed many of the millworkers. Jason continued up the hill, more confused than ever.
What had come over Kathryn? She had been acting differently the past few days. Her new hairstyle, for instance. But a red frilly dress? And coming to town by herself after what had happened with the sailors a week ago? She knew better.
Her image loomed clearly in his mind, leaning toward him in the dark. On the porch last night he’d had the most disturbing urge to kiss her. But that was his idea, right? Or had he fallen victim to an accomplished coquette? Suspicions hammered at him. When he first saw her on board the Fair Lady, he’d pegged her for a flirt who’d come to Seattle with one goal in mind. To trap a husband.
Had he been right about her all along?
Eighteen
Saturday, January 26, 1856
The restaurant was full to overflowing on Saturday morning. It seemed like every man in town had picked that day to have breakfast at Evangeline’s Café. A steady stream of customers filed into the restaurant, filling every available chair. They even lined up outside, waiting for a seat to empty.
Kathryn hurried from table to table, filling plates and mugs and returning so many wide smiles her cheeks ached from the strain. Evie worked at a frantic pace, flipping hundreds of flapjacks. At the rate they were going they would run out of butter before they ran out of customers. To make matters worse, everywhere Kathryn looked she found herself the subject of dozens of wolfish stares such as she had not seen since the week of her arrival.
“What is going on today?” Evie asked as she slid a stack of cakes onto yet another empty platter. “Is the entire town suddenly starving?”
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