Cakewalk

by Rita Mae Brown

  He tucked the note in the waist of his wrapped towel, noting that his shoes and pants had been neatly folded onto the wing chair by the fireplace. A small table by the chair held three photographs in silver frames. One was all the Chalfontes in 1885, when Celeste was eight. Another was Celeste in her early twenties in riding habit, with her Irish terrier by her side, the first of a succession of Irish terriers. The third was of a stunning young woman in front of the monument to the USS Maine at the southwest corner of Central Park.

  After a hot bath, Ben appeared in the breakfast room. Celeste, reading the newspaper, looked up.

  “Good morning.”

  “Best morning ever.” He sat down.

  “Coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, I think.”

  Celeste rose to pour him a cup from the large silver samovar on the sideboard. Two reposed there. One for tea and one for coffee.

  “Cream, sugar?”

  “Just cream.”

  She placed the cup in front of him, kissed him on the cheek, walked to the kitchen door, opened the swinging door a crack. “Ready.”

  She sat down as Cora appeared with a large bowl of hot oatmeal. A minute later, Cora came back with a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and her perfect biscuits. Butter, jams, even apple butter rested on the table.

  “Did you ride?” He noted Celeste’s riding habit, clothing made for her body.

  “I did. I’m an early riser.” She appraised him. “The shirt fits. I can have the sleeves altered, as they are a touch long, but other than that, perfect.”

  He unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up the sleeves. “I’ve never felt fabric like this.”

  “Jermyn Street. My brothers get all their shirts made in England, and that is one of Spotts’s.”

  Cora returned. “Spotts’s shirt is nearly a perfect fit. Yes, it is. Terrible to let such good things sit idle.”

  Celeste bit into a biscuit. “The drawers are full of shirts and you are welcome to every one. In fact, it is wonderful to see such elegant things not be wasted.”

  “Celeste, that’s too generous,” Ben quietly replied.

  She smiled, looking directly into his soft brown eyes. “I’m not trying to buy you, Ben. I don’t think I could. You aren’t that type of person, but knowing that my brother’s clothes are put to good use, on strong shoulders, makes me happy.” She glanced around the room. “I have so much, but there are times when it means so little.”

  He understood. “Just wait. I’ll get even.” He grinned.

  “You already have,” she teased him.

  Cora bustled in and out. Juts helped.

  Juts, thrilled to be the first with the news, informed them, “The statues are painted.”

  “How do you know? Did you run down to the square?”

  “No, but Evie did,” Juts announced. “She came by this morning. We’re going to the Bon Ton, too. I mean, once I’m finished helping Momma. But the best part is we got more paint on General Meade than they did on our statue.”

  “Quite a game,” Ben remarked.

  “The best. The best game ever. It is one of the happiest days of my life,” Juts enthused.

  “Juts, I do hope there are many more.” Celeste wanted to add that it had been a happy day for her as well but didn’t.

  “I’m so happy I’ll do a hop, skip, and a jump.” Juts performed her tricks, which made Ben laugh.

  Cora pushed the door open, spied her daughter’s high jinks. “Will you kindly leave Celeste and Mr. Battle alone?” She then winked at the two as she hustled Juts into the kitchen. “Dishes.”

  “Oh, Momma.”

  “Dishes,” could be heard in a louder register.

  Ben, laughing, asked, “Did you ever do the dishes?”

  “Actually, I did. Mother wanted all of us to learn what she called the domestic arts. I was terrible, but Carlotta excelled and the boys did all right. Of course, they could saw and hammer and build things. Carlotta and I were doomed to the house, except for the garden. Mother loved gardening. Is your mother still alive?”

  “She is. Dad’s gone but Mother and my sister, she’s married, live in St. Mary’s.”

  St. Mary’s is at the tip of southern Maryland, close to where the Chesapeake meets the Potomac. Peaceful, unique, the little town has exerted its magic since being founded in 1634.

  “How did you wind up in Baltimore?”

  “A scout saw me play high school baseball, just like those fellows yesterday. I played right after school, working my way up in the minors. Joined the army, came back. Tried out for the Orioles, which was a step up, double-A. I fit in there. I like using my body. I like that feeling when I make a good play.”

  “Perhaps not in the same way, but I have a feeling of flying, power, when I jump. When Roland and I are one.”

  “You are unusually strong for a woman,” he remarked.

  “Here’s the thing, Ben. How do we know how strong a woman is?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at how we dress. Corsets, those awful shoes, volumes of fabric, big hats. Now dresses are simpler, but still. The fabrics are fragile. There’s not much practical about women’s clothing, no matter what century really.”

  “I never thought about that.”

  “Men don’t. They just like to look at us,” she said without rancor. “Then again, women like looking at men, but it is so much easier for you-all to dress.”

  “And undress.” He giggled, which she found irresistible.

  She laughed with him. “Well—yes.”

  “I noticed the three photographs on your table. You and your brothers and sister so strongly resemble your parents.”

  “Carlotta looks more like Mother, as did Spotts, a little bit. Stirling, Curtis, and I favor Father. When you’re young, you never see it. You think no one in the world looks like you and then one day you look in the mirror and there it is. You?”

  “My father. My brother looked like Father, too. I don’t get to see Mother and Colleen as much as I’d like. Colleen looks so much like Mother. I send money and tickets to some of the games.”

  “You’re a good son.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I try. Dad died of a heart attack. Mother works. She seems to like it. She works at a little restaurant by the wharf. She knows everybody and they know her. Like here. Everybody knows everybody.” He paused. “The photo of you and the dog is handsome. He looks like an intelligent fellow.”

  “He was.”

  “And the lovely woman in front of the statue to commemorate the Maine. Who is she?”

  With a deep breath, Celeste answered directly. “That is my lover. We’ve been together thirteen years. She married my youngest brother, Curtis, on February twenty-second. She’ll have his child in early May, I think. You probably wondered why I never married. Well, there’s more to it than that. I felt like I was a horse at an auction, but then I met Ramelle and never thought of it again.” She leaned toward him. “Are you shocked?”

  “Nothing about you could shock me.”

  “I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.”

  “Will she ever come back here?”

  “She says she will after the baby’s born. Her idea is to live six months in Los Angeles with Curtis and six months here. I expect Curtis will make many visits both for her and the baby. I love her. I will always love her, and I love my brother, but I know things will never be the same, and Ben, perhaps that’s good.”

  “I guess it depends on the change.”

  “True. What I know is, this is a lilac day filled with gold dust. Let’s fling ourselves into it. We’re alive, triumphantly alive.”

  Buoyed by her energy, he speared a sausage. “Carpe diem.”

  “You know Latin?”

  “No,” he laughed, “but everyone knows carpe diem.”

  —

  Saturdays, a big shopping day, brought people to the square, especially to the Bon Ton. A few tongues clucked when seeing the defaced statues
but most residents smiled, remembering their high school days.

  By eleven that morning, lines to the Bon Ton formed around the block. Inside one could barely move. All because of Louise’s flair for style.

  She had put together models using items from the milliner’s department, the dress department, accessories, shoes, and light spring sweaters, her department. She had made cards with the cost of each item and then at the base of the mannequin, a large card announced the cost if one bought the entire outfit.

  Her uncanny eye for color and proportion caused women to jam into the store as word got around about the displays. Ladies were shouting, holding their purses over their heads. Screaming that they wanted model number two, the one in mint-green with the burgundy chiffon bodice.

  Sidney Yost couldn’t keep order. Louise couldn’t handle the crush.

  Hearing the noise, Asa Grumbacher looked down onto the floor from his sumptuous office.

  “Mildred!” he called for his attractive secretary. Mildred hurried to his side. Juts and Ev fought their way to Louise. Being smaller than most of the charging women, they wiggled through.

  “Juts, Ev, help me. Grab an order book, in the desk behind the counter. Start taking orders.”

  Juts was already behind the counter. “How do we know who’s first in line?”

  “You don’t. Do the best you can.” Louise had just sent a lady to the fitting room.

  Mildred cast her eyes down on the scene below. “Mr. Grumbacher, let me call the girls who have Saturday off. We need help.”

  “Good idea. I’m going onto the floor to help. When you’re done, you come down. My God, the Bon Ton has never had a day like this.”

  Soon Asa was in the thick of it, pacifying women, telling them to be patient. He, too, grabbed an order book and began serving the customers.

  Sidney pushed his way through. “Mr. Grumbacher, I can’t keep order. Things will get stolen.”

  “Close the other departments, except for cosmetics. Temporarily. Send all the sales clerks here. You come back and try to keep order, and Sidney, grab a sales book.”

  “Mr. Grumbacher, I’ve never made a sale in my life.”

  “You will now.”

  As Sidney reached their department, his female employees locked their cash registers, putting what items they could under counters, sliding the glass, and locking those display counters.

  The crowd grew even larger. Asa Grumbacher jollied the ladies along, telling each one how wise she was to come out on the first true day of spring, to find seasonal items first.

  A harried Sidney returned, sales book in hand.

  Mildred, a smile frozen on her face as she was jostled, managed to deal with Dimps Sr., who was dragooning some of the crowd to the cosmetics counter. Mildred told Big Dimps not to accost patrons. If they wanted foundation and lipstick, they would find her.

  Within two hours, every single item in the ladies’ department was sold out. The staff slumped against the counters as they wrote for orders to be shipped in.

  A few times, Asa Grumbacher needed to hoist himself up on a counter to avoid the female scrum. “Ladies, ladies, we will fill every order. Please be patient and don’t push. The girls are working as fast as they can, and won’t you all look like spring itself in these new colors?”

  Mildred held up her hand and he took it, steadied himself, and leapt down.

  Finally, it was closing time. Customers had to be ushered out with the promise that they would be attended to first thing on Monday or whenever they could make it. No one would sacrifice the items they wanted.

  When the doors were locked, the sales force sat down almost all at once.

  Louise, on her third sales book, wiped her brow.

  Asa, near to her as well as to Juts and Ev, asked, “Where did you get the idea for the display? When you asked me if you could do this I had no idea how complete the ensembles would be or the mixing of colors.”

  “I was looking through some magazines. Miss Chalfonte has fashion magazines from France and Italy. I got a lot of ideas.”

  He then spoke to Juts and Ev. “Girls, I’m tired. I’m sure you are, too.”

  He stood up, fished in his pocket, and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed one to each girl. Eyes big, both Juts and Ev thanked him.

  No one on Mr. Grumbacher’s staff had ever seen him give such a lavish bonus.

  “Juts, Ev, I am grateful. If you two girls want jobs after you graduate, you come see me.” He looked toward the front doors. “They’re still out there. I think we will have to exit by the alleyway door. Sidney, see to it, will you?”

  Bedraggled, Sidney led the way as Asa climbed the stairs, Mildred in front of him. He stopped, calling to his workers in a booming voice, “This is the best day the Bon Ton has ever had. Even the stores in New York haven’t had a day like today.”

  The clerks cheered.

  Once outside, Louise hurried to the store’s front, where Paul usually waited for her. Given the crowd, he stood across the street on the square.

  She ran to him, falling toward him as he opened his arms, confused.

  “Pearlie, you won’t believe what happened.”

  As she breathlessly informed him, Juts and Ev caught up with her, adding their juicy details, and the four walked to Celeste’s, jabbering the entire way.

  When they reached the house, Celeste and Ben were just returning from a tour of some of Carroll County. Everyone ran out to the back of the gardens to tell the whole story again for their benefit and Cora’s.

  Ben stood up. “Paul, the victors should be paraded.” He reached for Juts, swung her up on one shoulder, and said to Ev, “Stand on the chair. You can hop up on the other shoulder.”

  She did, and Ben swayed a little for balance, while Paul bent over for Louise to climb onto his back. Shouting, laughing, being silly, they ran around.

  Cora clapped her hands. Celeste just laughed.

  High spirits infected everyone. Ben bent low so the girls could hop off, then he walked over to Celeste, picked her up as though she weighed next to nothing, and looked in her face. “I can carry you around like this or you can get on my shoulders.”

  Inhibitions vanishing, Celeste said, “Shoulders.”

  He put her down, got down on all fours, and she climbed up. Then Ben and Paul paraded around as Juts and Ev shouted. Juts stood next to her mother.

  “Momma, you’re crying.”

  Wiping away her tears, “It’s been a long time since Celeste has been so happy.”

  The phone rang in the kitchen. Cora walked inside to answer it as the men put down their delightful burdens.

  “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. If you’ll give me a moment I’ll fetch her.”

  Cora left the earpiece dangling against the wall and rushed out. “Louise, Mr. Grumbacher on the phone.”

  Louise ran inside. Everyone waited. She came outside.

  “Well?” Juts put her fingers together like a steeple.

  “Mr. Grumbacher asked if we would come into the store tomorrow after church. Some of the other girls will be there. We need to write up the orders and send them off as soon as possible, and guess what? He will pay us time and a half overtime, and that includes Juts and Ev. He’ll pay you the same as us.”

  Cheers went up again, and into the middle of this tumult bustled Fannie Jump and Fairy.

  “What’s this about a riot at the Bon Ton?” Fannie demanded.

  Fairy, hands clasped, added, “I do hope you-all weren’t hurt.”

  Again the story was told and this time everyone sat down, bringing chairs out from inside.

  “This calls for a drink,” Fannie declared. “I’ll fetch the goods.”

  “The girls can’t drink, Fannie,” Celeste said.

  “They can learn,” said Fannie. With Cora’s help, she returned with scotch for herself, champagne for the rest.

  Ben poured a bit of champagne for Juts and Ev. “Just a sip. It will tingle.”

  Celeste held up her glass. �
��To Wheezie!”

  They all toasted Louise. Then they talked and laughed until twilight embraced them, the cool air with it. Back inside, Celeste threw on her coat.

  Fairy asked, “Where are you going?”

  “To knock on Francis’s door. Cora and the girls could use a ride home.”

  “I’ll take them. I brought the car,” Fairy reported with pride.

  And so, Fairy got to show off her driving skills, and Celeste and Ben, finally alone, climbed the stairs to discover a welcome fire in the hearth. She led him into the room where for a few moments they sat in the wing chairs reliving the day, then gladly shed their clothing to crawl into bed.

  “You know one of the marvelous things about being with a man?”

  “I do not.” He kissed her cheek.

  “A woman is never in doubt.”

  At nine that morning, Celeste rode Roland while Ben was on Sweetpea, an old, kind gelding. They walked along a winding farm road, past pastures greening up.

  “You could have gone to early service,” Ben remarked. “I’m as happy to go to an Episcopal church as a Catholic one.”

  “I know, but I’m a Christian by training not by nature.” She looked up. “This is my true place of worship. I think of it as the Church of the Blue Dome.”

  He also looked up. “No arguments between Catholics and Protestants under this church. It’s always seemed silly to me. At one point during the war, some South African troops marched by us as we moved to the front, real Africans with white officers. Who or what did they worship? I never asked. Didn’t matter.”

  “Do you think of the war much?”

  “I try not to. Sometimes a thought or a picture jumps into my head, but I don’t want to remember. No one does.”

  “Let’s hope that was the war to end all wars.”

  He leaned over to pat Sweetpea’s neck. “This horse has more brains than we do. Have you ever heard of horses making war on one another? For what, hay? The idea of a horse in the sky? Because he doesn’t like another horse’s color? There’s something inside us, Celeste. I don’t know what it is but I’ve seen it. Death, nothing but death. For what? To stop Kaiser Bill? And why would millions of Germans follow Kaiser Bill? He wasn’t in the trenches. I try to forget and then questions wiggle into my mind.”