by Janice Hanna
She did her best to shush him as she took her seat. “Phineas, remember, these are actresses, not brides. Don’t you dare hint at such a thing.”
“Well, a man can hope, can’t he?”
“To himself, maybe, but not aloud.” She draped a scarf over her hair and secured it in place.
Gil hopped into the seat behind Lottie’s. “You’ll scare the women away if you start talking marriage on the very first day, Phineas. Remember what we discussed.”
“I know, I know.” Phineas reached for the gearshift.
“We brought them here to perform in a show,” Lottie added. “And if they happen to fall in love, well, so be it. But if they don’t, then you have to be all right with that as well. Understand?”
He put the car in gear and sighed. “I guess.”
“Besides…” She narrowed her gaze. “You don’t even know if you’ll like any of these women yet. How do you know you’ll take a fancy to one when you haven’t even met them?”
“They’re female, ain’t they?” He quirked a brow then touched down on the accelerator, jarring the vehicle forward.
Lottie clutched the door. “Yes Phineas. They’re female. And you’ve got ten chances to find the needle in the haystack. That’s how many women are waiting for us down in Loveland.”
His eyes bugged. “What are we waitin’ fer? Let’s get crackin’!”
Minutes later they caravanned down the mountain toward Loveland. The motorcar bounced and bobbled as the road jutted this way and that. Chauncy and Jeb followed in the car behind them, and Augie brought up the rear. Lottie sensed Phineas’s excitement in the way he drove—carefree and a little too fast.
“Where did you say we’re supposed to meet them again?” she raised her voice to be heard above the noise of the engine.
“The Aspen Hotel at noon,” Gil called out from the backseat. “From what I’ve gathered, we’ll have ten women waiting there, some from Denver, some from New York, and two—sisters, if I understood their letter correctly—from a theater company in Atlantic City. A handful have been there a day or so, but some just arrived on this morning’s train from Denver.”
Lottie turned her attention back to the scenery and spent the remainder of the trip offering up silent but frantic prayers that these women—whoever they were—would find themselves at ease.
By the time they arrived at the Aspen, Lottie had almost convinced herself they could pull this off. Surely, with the Lord’s help, all would be well. After all, these women knew what they were getting into. Mostly.
Gilbert helped her out of the motorcar, and seconds later the other men clustered around them. Jeb looked as if he might be sick at any moment, but the other three appeared to be faring well.
“Everyone ready?” Gilbert asked.
She offered a lame nod, and they all took a few tentative steps toward the hotel. Once inside the spacious lobby, it took a moment for Lottie’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she saw an older woman, tall and thin, who sat ramrod-straight in a lobby chair, fussing with her sensible straw hat. Thin wisps of salt-and-pepper hair peeked out from underneath the brim. The woman wasn’t much to look at, to be sure, but had a certain presence about her. She narrowed her eyes, the wrinkles on her face now more exaggerated. They provided a stark contrast to the sturdy physique.
“You think she’s one of ’em?” Jeb whispered.
“Likely.” Phineas looked a bit panicked. “How old would you say she is?”
Jeb squinted and leaned forward as if to examine her closer. “A hundred and three?”
Phineas snorted. “Nah. I’m guessin’ in her late fifties. But she’s got some wear, that’s fer sure. And I sure wouldn’t want to meet up with her in a dark alley. She could take me down in a hurry.”
“Either she’s had a rough life or…” Jeb shook his head. “She’s had a rough life.”
“That, fellas, is what is commonly known as a tough old broad.” Chauncy laughed.
“No kidding. And she ain’t much to look at, is she?” Jeb whispered. “I seen women twice that purty get run outta town with an ugly stick.”
“Jeb, hold your tongue.” Lottie spoke in a strained whisper. “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman.”
“Lovely. Humph.” Jeb snorted. “If that’s lovely, then I’m a scholar.” He leaned over and whispered, “And we all know I ain’t no scholar.”
The woman gazed to her right and then her left, an irritated expression on her face. She stared Lottie’s way.
“You the gal we’re looking for? Lottie Sanders?”
“I’m Lottie. I, well, welcome to Colorado, Miss…”
“Flossie McAlister. Stood outside in that heat for nigh on to twenty minutes. I thought your telegram said noon.”
“Yes, you’re so right. See, we left the lodge in plenty of time but encountered a bit of trouble on the bend just outside of Loveland. An overturned hay wagon. You understand.”
“I understand that it’s hot out there and we’ve been waiting. In my line of work, we don’t like to be kept waiting. If you say an event is going to begin at noon, it needs to begin at noon.”
Lottie bit back the urge to respond with “Yes, ma’am.” No point in letting this bossy old soul know she held the upper hand.
“We’re here now.” Gilbert’s voice exuded confidence. “Where are your bags? I’ll be happy to collect them for you and get you loaded into the Stanley Steamer.”
“Ooh, the Stanley Steamer?” A happy-go-lucky voice rang out from behind them. “I’ve heard about the Steamer for years, of course, but never ridden in one.”
Lottie turned as the woman with the jovial voice joined them. Her chins—all three of them—jiggled with delight when she laughed, which she did with abandon.
The woman grabbed Flossie by the arm. “Oh, sister, why ever did you come inside? Those mountains out there are magnificent. I’ve never seen such beauty. And the fresh air. Why, I could breathe it all day!”
“Which is exactly what you will be doing for the next six months,” Flossie said with a smirk.
“Oh! I guess I will, at that.” The happy woman giggled again.
“Fanny, how you do go on.” Flossie rolled her eyes. “Folks, this is my twin sister, Fanny.”
Twin? Lottie could hardly believe such a thing possible, for the women were nothing alike, in size or expression. She extended her hand. “I’m Lottie Sanders, director of Predicament at Parker Lodge. So glad you could join us.”
“Oh, you sweet girl.” Fanny giggled. “Happy to be here.”
“Well, what are we waiting on?” Flossie asked. “I say we gather the troops and head on out.” She called for several other women to join them and then took off across the lobby, leaving everyone in her dust.
“Please slow down a bit, sister.” Fanny started to follow her and then glanced Lottie’s way. “I’m lugging around a bit more poundage than my sister, so I don’t move as fast.” She stopped walking and panted. “There now. Just had to catch my breath. I struggle with heart palpitations.” She glanced over at Jeb and her eyes widened. “Well now, if that doesn’t set a woman’s heart to skipping double time, I don’t know what will.” She extended a hand. “Fanny McAlister.”
“Fanny, eh?” Phineas whispered in Lottie’s ear. “Ironic.”
True, the woman was rounder in some parts than others— and the name definitely suited her in more than one way—but she had a smile that would light up any room, one that Jeb seemed to take a liking to.
The thought had barely passed through Lottie’s mind when a woman—probably in her early forties—took a few steps in their direction. She wore her red hair in an upswept fashion, bits of it loose around the neck, but most piled atop her head in a clever array. Her perfectly powdered nose didn’t quite cover up the hint of freckles showing through. Oh, but those beautiful almond-shaped eyes! Who had eyes like that? And that lovely dress! Why she’d chosen to travel in a white dress, Lottie couldn’t even guess. Had she no common sense?
/> Next to her, Augie straightened his necktie and squared his shoulders. “Well, now,” he muttered, “that’s a fine specimen of a woman.” He turned his attention to helping her. “Can I help you with your luggage, Miss…?”
“Margaret.” She paused with dramatic effect. “Margaret Linden of the Manhattan Lindens.”
“She has an air about her, don’t she?” Jeb whispered.
“It’s an air all right.” Chauncy fanned himself and laughed. “Stinkin’ highfalutin woman. I can smell her perfume all the way over here.”
“I hope she can act,” Gilbert said. “She looks the actress type.”
Lottie continued to stare at the exquisite woman, who was poised and composed. “Oh, she can act, all right. She’s giving an award-winning performance right now.” Indeed. The woman had a captive audience in the men, to be sure.
“Ooh, I like that one.” Chauncy let out a whistle as he pointed to a beautiful blond with curls around her face and tiny flowers in her hair. The lithe beauty carried herself with great fluidity as she moved across the lobby of the hotel. Her elegant movements put one in mind of a swan floating across a lake. Not that Lottie had seen a lot of swans, but she rather envisioned them to look like this woman, who introduced herself as Grace.
The young beauty wore a soft, flowing gown, which seemed to fit her personality—light and graceful. She wore her hair up in a loose chignon, and the neckline of her dress scooped low, though not in a revealing way. More carefree and soft.
“Too petite for me,” Jeb whispered. “She’s so lightweight I might break her.”
That got a laugh from the other men.
“What about that one?” Phineas pointed to a middle-aged woman. Her hair was raven black, curled in tendrils around her face. Her yellow dress was perfectly pressed. Her dark brown eyes didn’t offer much in the way of invitation. In fact, they made Lottie rather ill at ease. The woman extended a white-gloved hand but looked as though she’d rather not have any of them shake it. Lottie stood, unsure of what to do. Finally she shook the woman’s fingertips, though only for a second.
The woman introduced herself as Hannah and then added, “This town is rather dirty. If there’s one thing I believe in, it’s good hygiene.” She gave Phineas a glance, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Yes, well, I will have my work cut out for me, won’t I?”
He stammered some sort of response then reached for her bag. She slapped his hand and insisted she would get it herself.
To Lottie’s right, Gil released a slow breath. She followed his gaze to see a young woman—truly a beauty—headed their way. The woman had a perfect face, with the prettiest green eyes. Her flowing brown curls draped her shoulders, spilling down onto the beautiful green-and-blue gown with white puffed sleeves. Store-bought. No doubt about it. The woman’s flawless alabaster skin put one in mind of a porcelain doll, and her pink cheeks glowed with excitement.
“She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?” Gil whispered.
“She is,” Lottie agreed. “And she knows it. Look at the way she holds herself.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Gilbert continued to stare.
Lottie elbowed him. “Stop drooling, Gilbert Parker. Your mama taught you better than that.”
“I’m not drooling. I’m just—” He didn’t say anything else but took a few steps in the woman’s direction. “Can I help you with your bags, Miss…Miss…?”
“Cornelia Witherspoon,” the young woman responded and then flashed a lovely smile, one filled with innocence and wide-eyed wonder. “If this isn’t the prettiest place I’ve ever seen, I certainly don’t know what is.”
Three other women approached, all dressed in what the fellas liked to call “slim pickin’s” attire—low-cut gowns, in bright colors. They introduced themselves as Sharla, Patricia, and Cherry.
Lottie collected her thoughts and jumped into action, guiding the women, who now numbered nine, outside to the automobiles. Moments later, they and their belongings were piled inside, ready to begin the journey up the mountain. Still, one person appeared to be missing: a Miss Prudence Stillwater. What could have happened to her?
Lottie glanced across the street and noticed a young woman, one who appeared to be in her midthirties, seated on a bench in front of the general store, her gaze on the needlepoint in her hands. “I wonder if that’s her.” She started in the woman’s direction. “Pardon me.”
The woman looked up, fear in her eyes. “Y–yes?”
“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Prudence Stillwater, would it?”
“I–I’m Prudy Stillwater.” Her voice lowered. “Are you Miss Lottie Sanders of the Parker Lodge Theatrical Society?”
“I am. Happy to make your acquaintance.” Lottie extended her hand and Prudy took it, her touch light and fearful.
The poor woman looked scared to death. Still, they didn’t have any time to waste. Lottie led the way to the automobiles and watched as Prudence climbed into the car driven by Augie. Not that he seemed to notice. No, his gaze was still permanently affixed to Miss Margaret Linden, who had taken the seat next to him.
“I’ve never seen so many Levi’s in my life.” Margaret fanned herself. “It’s quite…rustic.”
“I’ve never seen so many men in need of shaving,” Hannah added from the backseat. “Is there no barber in Estes Park?”
“Sure, there’s a barber,” Augie piped up. “But the men don’t get over to see him much. Most are too busy working the land, taking care of their cattle and such.”
“Well, now, a woman could forgive a man a great many things if he took care of things like that.” Cherry giggled, but Hannah didn’t look amused.
Thank goodness Lottie didn’t have time to think about it. Gil’s voice rang out with a happy, “All aboard for Estes Park!” and Lottie sprinted toward her car.
Minutes later they pulled out of the Loveland depot in the three larger-than-life Steamers. They traveled in a row up the steep mountain road, pausing for deer and elk along the way.
“The view is simply breathtaking,” Fanny said from the seat behind Lottie. “We don’t get this kind of wildlife in the big city.” She leaned out the open window and drew in a deep breath. “Oh, but it’s worth whatever agonies we’ve suffered in making such a long journey to land in a place like this. That air! It’s so—so fresh!”
“Nearly as fresh as some of the fellas I’ve worked with in the theater,” Grace said and then giggled. The other ladies found her comment to be delightful, as was evidenced by their girlish laughter.
The happy caravan continued on through the foothills, pausing to look at the river portion of their drive. They met another vehicle on its way down the mountain from Estes. “Hold on, ladies,” Gilbert called out. “We’ve got to back into this turnaround to allow the truck safe passage. He has the right of way because he’s in the larger vehicle.”
Grace’s eyes grew wide. “This is rather frightening,” she said.
“Oh, you should see it in the wintertime,” Gilbert said with the wave of a hand. “You can’t even get through. And when it rains, watch out. These roads are so slick, you’re liable to go sliding off the edge.”
Lottie glared at him, but he didn’t appear to catch on. Hopefully he would stop sharing such frightening information before he scared the women.
“I just can’t get over how steep this road is.” Grace paled. “I had no idea what to expect, but now I know. It’s very…very hilly.”
Minutes later, several of the ladies were feeling poorly. The shy one—what was her name, again? Prudy?—had asked Augie to stop his car so she could calm her stomach. Lottie tended to her as best she could, but the woman looked terrified. By the time they reached Estes Park, most of the ladies were grumbling and complaining.
All but Fanny. She alone emerged from the Stanley with a broad smile on her face, one that gave Lottie a glimmer of hope that everything might turn out all right after all. Now, if only they could get through tonight’s auditions.
SIX
CHAOS AT CANYON ROAD
We at Parker Lodge are looking forward to the upcoming theatrical, and all the more now that the cast has arrived and auditions are set to begin. After witnessing the arrival of the famed actresses from the East, local resident Jeb Otis has suggested a new title for the Parker Lodge melodrama: Chaos on Canyon Road. According to Jeb, the sudden influx of nearly a dozen beautiful women, coupled with a somewhat precarious journey up the mountain, left him feeling somewhat discombobulated. So what about you, friends and neighbors? Ready for a show filled with more twists and turns than Canyon Road? Then get your advance tickets for the upcoming melodrama today! —Your friends at Parker Lodge
GILBERT LEANED BACK against a tree and sighed. “I can’t believe we still have to hold auditions tonight. What were we thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Lottie sat beside him and tugged at the collar on her dress for the umpteenth time. “I mean, have you ever—and I mean ever—heard or seen so many complaints? I thought my sister was difficult, but some of those ladies this afternoon were—were…” She paused, her eyes widening. “Well, anyway, they were.”
“They were, indeed. And I think the word you were looking for is impossible.”
“Yes, and that Flossie McAlister was the worst of them. Did you hear what she said to me when I told her the story idea for Predicament at Parker Lodge?”
“No.” But this certainly piqued his interest.
“She said it would never work, that there aren’t enough twists and turns.” Lottie sighed and straightened the portion of the skirt she was sitting on. “Do you think she’s right, Gil? I mean, honestly, I don’t know the first thing about putting together a real story. Not one folks pay to see, anyway.”
“Twists and turns are good.” He shrugged and leaned forward to place his hand on Lottie’s arm in an attempt to summon up the courage to speak his mind. “Lottie, listen…I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but if she’s willing to offer advice, maybe you’d better listen to her. She’s been in the theater for over thirty years, from what she told us today. She’s done dozens of shows, and many of them have been huge successes.”