by Peggy Gaddis
“We could work the tea dance.”
“Cheapen The Act by doing two shows a day?” He was wroth at the idea. “We’ll do no such thing. We were booked for a single show, and a single show we’ll do.”
Kristen made a little gesture that dismissed the idea.
“Oh, and you must be very careful not to get too much sun,” Leon remembered to add. “A sun tan is the one thing that could just about wreck the effect of Nina’s costumes.”
“Yes, Master,” Kristen said gently.
For a long, angry moment Leon glared down at her.
“Still fighting me?” he demanded sharply.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Kristen said gently.
Leon ran fingers through his hair in a gesture of angry bewilderment and weary exasperation.
“I don’t get it, Kristen,” he admitted. “Here we are on the very first rung of a real, honest to goodness break; and you don’t seem to want to co-operate a bit. I thought we’d gotten all this settled before we left New York.”
“Did you?” asked Kristen. “Frankly, if I’d known that you were such a slave driver, I think I’d have gone back home to Wisconsin.”
“So now I’m a slave driver! Just because I want The Act to be the best of its kind in theatrical history!” he raged.
“Oh, don’t be a fool.” Kristen flung the words at him recklessly. “There have been fine dancing acts before; there’ll be more fine dancing acts after you and I are dead and gone. What’s so earth-shaking about a ballroom dance team?”
She saw that the words flung him into a towering rage. He waited a moment until he could control his anger, and when he spoke his voice had a tone that bit like acid.
“If that’s the way you feel about The Act, then perhaps it might have been better if you had gone back to Wisconsin,” he told her savagely, and strode from the room.
Kristen went back to her cabin, changed from rehearsal slacks into a cool, thin white frock and set out in search of him. She found him before she had gone once around the deck; found him engaged in a spirited game of shuffle-board with a group of young passengers. She saw at once that his partner was the lovely Marisa! Madam Chapin sat nearby, watching with an enigmatic expression, and for a moment, Kristen, too, watched.
Chapter Five
The afternoon before they were to reach Martinique, Kristen was in her favorite steamer chair in a shady corner when Madam Chapin joined her, with a pleasant, “May I?” as she lowered herself cautiously into a chair beside Kristen.
“I shall be very glad to see Fort-de-France in the morning,” said Madam Chapin wearily.
“Is it your home?” Kristen asked politely.
“Thank Heaven, No!” answered Madam Chapin with an intensity that surprised Kristen. “I’m a native-born New Yorker, and I can’t wait to get back home, free of the responsibility of Marisa! She’s a charming child, but at my age, a responsibility. I’ll be very happy to have her father and her aunt take that responsibility, I can assure you! I’m staying aboard the ship and going back with it.”
“I almost wish I could join you.”
Madam Chapin turned her head and eyed the girl.
“Oh, I think you’ll like the island. It really is a lovely place, and the Martiniquais are quite sure that Christopher Columbus was a fool only to stop there for a three-day rest before pushing on,” said Madam Chapin. “I’ve known the Newmans for years. George Newman’s mother was a schoolmate of mine, so when his wife, Marisa’s mother, asked me to be godmother to Marisa, I could scarcely refuse. When I was asked to take her into my home for two years and see her through finishing school—well, I didn’t dream how exhausting it was going to be. The poor child’s mother died when the child was nine, and she grew up here with governesses and tutors, and Eileen decided she should be ‘finished’ where she could meet girls and boys of her own class, as she would have done if her mother had lived.”
She sighed, and a slight shudder touched her.
“It’s been ten years since her mother’s death, but I can’t seem to get over it. Such a dreadful way to die! A fer-de-lance.”
Puzzled, Kristen asked, “A what?”
“A snake more deadly than the rattlesnake, and without a rattle,” Madam Chapin explained, and shuddered again. “Marie-Therese was walking alone in the garden. She was dead when they found her, from the snake’s deadly venom.”
“How horrible!” gasped Kristen.
Madam Chapin nodded sadly.
“There was her garden basket full of wilting blooms, and her garden shears still in her hand, because the fer-de-lance kills swiftly,” she sighed. “Poor George nearly went out of his mind, of course. He had warned her repeatedly never to go out in the garden alone. But there was the small Marisa, and so Eileen gave up her home in England and came to live with him and to help him bring Marisa up.”
She turned suddenly, and Kristen knew this was the reason Madam Chapin had joined her.
“This infatuation the child has for your dance partner, my dear,” she said quietly, “must be stopped. It’s most unsuitable.”
Color poured into Kristen’s face.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that, Madam Chapin,” she said through her teeth.
“No, no, of course not,” Madam Chapin agreed. “I merely thought that perhaps you might be—shall we say worried?”
“But why should I be?” asked Kristen.
The old woman’s eyes were piercing.
“You are not in love with him?” she asked.
“Good heavens, no!” gasped Kristen so sincerely that Madam Chapin could not help but believe her.
“Odd,” said Madam Chapin, studying her curiously. “I’ve watched you dance every night, and I could have sworn that there was some very deep emotion between you.”
Kristen laughed.
“That’s quite a compliment, Madam. It’s what we are trying to convey to the audience. Leon feels that it makes The Act more appealing if the customers feel we really are in love.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Madam Chapin. “I mean I had hoped that you two were seriously interested in each other and that, as soon as we reached Fort-de-France, Marisa could be convinced of that. You see, any attachment between the child and a professional dancer would be most unsuitable.”
“I suppose it would,” Kristen agreed.
“Oh, it’s not that I disapprove of theatrical people, my dear, you mustn’t think that,” Madam Chapin said anxiously. “It’s just that I know something of George’s plans for the girl. His holdings here on the island constitute a small empire, that has been in the family for generations. Naturally, since Marisa is his only heir, she will be expected to marry someone who can carry on the empire. You do see what I mean, my dear?”
“Of course,” Kristen answered, and added impulsively, “If it will make you feel any better, maybe I should tell you that Leon is born and bred to the theatre. He could never visualize any other life; I can’t imagine him ever being sufficiently in love with any woman, even one as lovely as Marisa, for him to give up show business. He wants to be the greatest of all male dancers, and he’s quite sure he can be.”
Madam Chapin studied her for a moment.
“I’ve been worried about their being together so constantly,” she admitted. “But aboard ship like this, it’s very difficult to keep them apart without locking Marisa in her cabin and I’m sure you realize that couldn’t be done. I can only hope that when she is at home again, George will keep her away from Fort-de-France, at least until your engagement ends.”
After a moment, Madam Chapin asked anxiously, “Have I offended you, my dear?”
“Of course not,” Kristen answered. “I really am only an innocent bystander, anyway. I can see that your attitude is quite right; but I can’t help believing that you are troubling yourself unnecessarily.”
“You do think, then, that once the voyage is over, the affair will be over, too?”
“If there is an affair,” Kristen answ
ered. “Marisa is a superb dancer, and Leon enjoys dancing with her. She’s a lovely person, and everybody likes her; I really don’t think you have much to worry about, Madam.”
“I do so hope you are right,” Madam Chapin answered, and patted her hand lightly. “It was good of you to listen to an old woman’s problems, my dear! You’ve made me feel much better.”
“I’m so glad.” Kristen smiled at her as the woman rose.
“Well, I shall go now and have my nap,” said Madam Chapin, on her feet and steadying herself against the steamer chair’s back. “And I shall see you after dinner, my dear, to say goodbye.”
She smiled and nodded at Kristen and took her slow-paced, dignified walk down the deck.
The night’s show went smoothly, and at its finish Leon nodded to her as they left the floor.
“That was very good, Kristen,” he told her. “If we can do as well opening night at the Riviera, we’ll be a hit.”
“I’m so glad you were pleased. I thought it went very well.” She smiled at him.
Leon nodded a good night and turned back to the ballroom, and she knew that he was going to look for Marisa, and wished him luck.
In her cabin Kristen finished her packing and went to bed. She was very tired and fell asleep almost at once. Sometime in the early hours before dawn she roused sleepily, and realized that it was not a sound that had awakened her; rather it was a cessation of sound. And then she realized that the engines were silent for the first time since they had sailed fourteen days ago! That meant that they had already docked. But going-ashore time was not until nine in the morning, so she settled back once more to sleep.
Chapter Six
She stepped out on deck into a blaze of sunlight that hit her almost like a blow in the face. She shaded her eyes with her hands, and looked eagerly at the sprawling city that seemed to reach right down to the dock. Beyond were the mountains, lifting bright against a cloudless blue sky, and grouped on the docks were laborers unloading such cargo as the Caribbean Queen carried. They were dark of skin, laughing, shouting, as gay and blithe as the lovely morning.
Groups of shore-going passengers went by, chattering, and now and then someone paused to say goodbye to Kristen and to repeat how much he had enjoyed her dancing, before going ashore.
Kristen turned as Leon spoke behind her.
“Have you seen Marisa?” he asked urgently.
Kristen turned. “Why, no, I haven’t. If she’s gone ashore, she didn’t stop to say goodbye, and I’m sure she would have.”
“Oh, I know she hasn’t gone ashore,” Leon cut in. “She said last night that she wanted me to meet her father, who was coming to meet her. She wouldn’t leave wihout saying goodbye to me, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t either.”
Casey came hurrying to them, his brows drawn together.
“Look, you two, we’re all supposed to wait in the lounge until the hotel manager gets here and clears us for going ashore. I’ve managed to get all the boys out of bed and into their clothes, and they’ve had breakfast. Kristen, how about routing Sherry out for me? We’re all supposed to be together in a bunch. Seems there are certain formalities that have to be taken care of, since we are here to work, not just for fun.”
Leon scanned the deck, where a few groups were idling, and then looked down once more at the dock, before he turned reluctantly and followed Casey back to the lounge. As Kristen reached the door of her cabin, it opened and Sherry came out, looking fresh and pretty in a thin white sharkskin dress. But her blue eyes were sleepy.
“This getting up at the crack o’ day is for the birds,” she growled.
Kristen laughed. “It’s after nine o’clock.”
“So? I still say it’s for the birds,” Sherry said crossly.
“Well, tomorrow morning I’ll slip out of the room as quiet as a mouse and you can sleep until tea time if you like,” Kristen promised her.
“I’ve never seen a gal who could stay up as late and get up as early and be as full of bounce as you are.” Sherry led the way into the lounge, where a rather glum-looking band waited. “Hi, fellows, you look the way I feel,” she greeted them, and dropped into a chair.
Casey scanned them resentfully.
“For Pete’s sake,” he raged, “do you want this guy to think he’s hired a bunch of zombies to play at his joint? Try to look a little alive, will you?”
“We’re musicians, not actors,” growled the first sax. “How come we’re supposed to look all bright-eyed and fun, fun, fun at this ungodly hour?”
“We’re not opening until tomorrow night,” Casey told them sternly. “You can all go straight to bed the minute you get to the hotel and sleep the clock around if you like.”
“Oh, no, we can’t!” the first sax protested. “Himself here will want to rehearse for the next twenty-four hours.” He threw Leon a hostile glance.
“Oh, we needn’t rehearse until tomorrow,” Leon said carelessly. “We’ll all need to get the feel of the place. Acoustics and the like.”
“Oh, of course,” said someone in the band, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It would be too much to expect that a multi-million dollar project could possibly be built satisfactorily, unless you personally approved.”
“Fellows!” snapped Casey, and there was the crack of a whip in his tone. “You’re behaving like babies. Belmont will be here any minute. And if he hears you wrangling like this, he’ll probably cancel the whole contract. Now, knock it off, will you?”
A moment later a plump, well-fed looking man in his mid-forties, wearing a pale gray suit of some sort of raw silk, came hurrying in, mopping at his brow with a fine linen handkerchief, looking swiftly about the group.
“Mr. Hodges?” he asked, and Casey came forward, smiling as they shook hands. “I’m Belmont. Sorry I was a bit late, but the traffic—”
“It’s quite all right, Mr. Belmont,” Casey assured him. “I’d like you to meet the gang. This is Miss Dillard, our dance star, and her partner, Leon Westerman; and Sherry Malone, who sings with the band; and there are the fellows.”
He introduced each one by name, and Mr. Belmont was pleasant and friendly.
“I’ve been hearing very nice things about your troupe, Mr. Hodges,” he said when the introductions had been finished. “Miss Newman cabled her father that we were lucky to get such a group for our opening. And last night when her father and I came down to meet her, she was very enthusiastic. She talked about you all the way back home; she was especially impressed with Mr. Westerman’s dancing.”
Leon said sharply, “Miss Newman has already gone ashore?”
Mr. Belmont looked at him curiously, as though wondering whether he had any right to ask such a question.
“Why, yes,” he answered. “The Queen docked at two o’clock, and Mr. Newman and I were waiting. He was very anxious to see her, and saw no reason to wait until this morning to take her home.”
Kristen saw the slight tightening of Leon’s jaw as he turned away.
Later, when they all trooped ashore, there were cars waiting for them, and Kristen lost herself in eager absorption of the colorful, noisy scene that lay before them as the cars wound their way through the narrow streets and on to the hotel.
They were all suitably impressed by the very handsome glass-brick-chromium building, but secretly Kristen felt it was out of place in this ancient city. However, she supposed it was what the sort of tourists who had travelled on the Caribbean Queen would expect.
She and Sherry were assigned a room together, overlooking the side drive, and there was a glimpse of the bay, toward which the hotel faced.
Their luggage was brought in by a pleasant, middle-aged, very dark-skinned porter, who gestured toward one of the huge closets and told Kristen that an air-freight package for her had arrived a few days before, and its contents had been unpacked and hung in the closet.
When the door had closed behind him, Kristen went to the closet and looked. Hung neatly in transparen
t garment bags were the gowns from Nina’s, and Sherry’s eyes widened as she saw them.
“Hi, you went all out, didn’t you?” she gasped.
“Leon ordered them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he designed them, would you?” Kristen mocked, touching with delicate fingers an airy thing of turquoise lace that looked as if it begged to be released from its transparent container.
“I hate you!” Sherry said grimly. “You’re going to make me look like the ashman’s daughter.”
“Well, you know Leon,” said Kristen dryly.
“Oh, sure, I know Leon! The question is—do you?”
“I know him as well as I need to know him, since I’m only working with him.”
“He sure gave the Newman gal a whirl aboard ship, didn’t he?” mused Sherry, brows slightly furrowed. “Of course it was only because her old man owns the joint.”
Kristen turned swiftly.
“Do you think it was only that?” she asked.
Sherry gave her a startled, hostile glance.
“What else could it be?” she snapped. “You surely don’t think a guy like Lee could fall for that baby-faced kid?”
“Don’t you?” Kristen countered, somehow not wanting to believe that Leon could make a play for a girl just to further his ambition.
“Ha!” Sherry’s ejaculation was one of contempt. “When Lee falls, it will be for someone sleek and sophisticated and who knows her way around; somebody in show business, because what else does the big, handsome lug know? It sure won’t be for a kid just out of finishing school.”
“Well, of course you know him much better than I do,” answered Kristen. “I’m going for a walk,” she decided suddenly.
“A walk!” Sherry gasped. “In this heat? Are you out of your mind?”
“I want to get over my sea legs and turn them into land legs before we start rehearsing, and I want to see what the place looks like.”
“You’ll bake your brains—if any! That sun has authority, pal!”
Kristen laughed and caught up a hat as she went out of the room.
The lobby was thronged with a luncheon crowd, and there were some people at the desk, registering, picking up mail, getting directions for sight-seeing trips. The hotel was already doing a thriving business.