The Hope Chest (14 page)

“Bootleg stuff from Hell's Half-Acre will make you blind,” another man observed.

“Then we'll lead the legislators up to the capitol by the hand and help them cast their votes.”

Miss Pearson gestured for silence. “We're ahead of the game. The Suffs were counting on Walker, and losing him to us was a serious setback for them. We're going to win this.…”

There were mutters of “yes!” and “hear, hear!”

“But not without a fight. Tomorrow, we need all hands at the capitol.”

Violet combined a cucumber and a chicken sandwich and ate them together as an experiment.

“Governor Roberts is not on our side. He's made no secret of the fact that he's a Suff. We need to ride herd on all our men and do whatever it takes to keep them loyal. And if need be, we may have to be prepared to remove a few of the Suffs' men from the picture.”

Violet had finished her sandwiches, and she got up to
get a few more. Everyone was listening with rapt attention to Miss Pearson and nobody seemed to care how many sandwiches Violet was taking. They had probably already eaten in the dining room.
They
were suitably attired. Hanging on the wall behind Miss Pearson was the flag of the Confederate States of America. Violet recognized it from her history books at school. But the Civil War had been over for fifty-five years. What was the matter with these people? Didn't they even know what country they lived in?

Why were all these women against woman suffrage anyway? Violet could understand how a woman could just never have thought one way or another about voting but not how a woman could be
against
it. Well, except Mother was.

Violet drifted out of the room to the balcony and stood looking down at the lobby below. The railing was low— too low to lean on—so she didn't stand too close. She stood beside a garland of plaster fruit that decorated an arch in the ceiling and chewed a cold tongue sandwich thoughtfully. From up here, you could actually hear what people were saying.

A balding, stoop-shouldered man in a brown suit stood below her. He was wearing a yellow rose in his lapel and talking to a woman in a white dress with a yellow sash.

“It's a shame about Seth Walker, Miss Pollitzer,” he said. “That's a blow. How many do we have now?”

“I'm not sure, Mr. Hanover,” the lady in white said. “Miss Mayhew is working on the latest numbers now.”

Violet almost dropped her tongue sandwich when she heard the name Mayhew.

“Oh, here she comes now.”

This time Violet did drop her sandwich, and it fell over the railing. Violet didn't stop to see where it hit. She put her plate down on the floor and turned and clattered down the stone staircase, having the presence of mind to drop her red rose on the stairs as she went.

She might not have recognized the woman coming toward her if she hadn't heard those people say “Mayhew.” Chloe was wearing a smart sky blue walking suit and a straw hat with a yellow rose in it. Looking under the hat, Violet could see that Chloe had bobbed her brown hair—it only just reached her collar. Mother would have had a fit. There were shadows under Chloe's dark brown eyes that made her look older than her twenty-three years.

“Hello, Chloe,” Violet said.

Chloe stared at Violet as if she were a giraffe. “Violet! What on earth?” Then she ran forward and threw her arms around Violet.

Violet hugged Chloe, embarrassed. Theirs was not a hugging family. They let go of each other quickly.

“Violet, what on earth, how on earth …” She took a step back and looked nervous. “Violet, Mother and Father aren't here, are they?”

“No,” said Violet. “I, um …” To say she had run away suddenly seemed melodramatic in the face of sensible Chloe in her sensible suit. “I kind of left.” She felt a need to justify herself, so she added, “They never gave me any of your letters. And then I found them in Mother's desk when I was looking for a stamp.”

“Oh, Violet! Then what happened?”

Mr. Hanover and Miss Pollitzer listened politely.

“I just got mad and left,” said Violet. “And then I went to New York, and … well, anyway, here I am.”

“I can't believe you came all this way alone!”

“I wasn't exactly alone,” said Violet. She wasn't sure how to explain about Mr. Martin and Myrtle, particularly now that she had lost them.

Chloe turned to the other two. “I beg your pardon. This is my sister, Violet. Violet, this is Miss Anita Pollitzer of the National Woman's Party and Mr. Joe Hanover, a representative from Memphis who's leading the suffrage fight in the House.”

Violet turned and curtsied carefully. “How do you do,” she said politely. “I'm very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, I'm sure,” said Miss Pollitzer.

“How do you do,” said Mr. Hanover politely.

“Chloe, you'd better go get this taken care of,” said Miss Pollitzer, nodding at Violet. “But did you get those numbers?”

“I think so.” Chloe handed Miss Pollitzer a piece of paper. “If they're uncommitted, I put a question mark
next to them, and if they might change sides, I put two question marks. I might not make it to the meeting tonight. Excuse us.”

Violet curtsied again and then followed Chloe briskly across the lobby toward the women's entrance.

The Tulane Hotel, where Chloe and the other National Woman's Party members were staying, was two blocks away, downhill, and Violet noticed when they got outside that it hadn't gotten any cooler even though it was fully dark now. The Tulane was only six stories high instead of ten, and it was less intimidating than the Hermitage.

There was a long line of cars parked out front, and Chloe and Violet stopped to visit the Hope Chest.

Henry Ford had said, famously, that you could have any color Model T you wanted as long as it was black, but you actually could get other colors. The Hope Chest was dark green, with black fenders and running boards and a black collapsible roof. It was a runabout, with a leather front seat big enough to hold a driver and a passenger but no backseat. Instead, there was an open space behind the cab, which had been fitted with a small wooden truck bed. “For carrying stuff,” Chloe explained.

They admired the car's pressed steel radiator, its nickel hubcaps and narrow, wire-spoked wheels, the nickel radiator cap, and the big round electric headlamps, which Violet said looked like bug eyes.

“Like frog eyes,” said Chloe fondly. “And it's amphibious too, the Hope Chest is, like a frog. I've driven it
right through streams, especially this last month, when I've been up in the mountains, hunting down Tennessee legislators in their dens.”

She patted the Hope Chest on its steel hood. “It's my freedom, the Hope Chest. And women have been using automobiles so much this last year, they might really give us freedom. I mean freedom to be real, voting citizens of the United States.” She sighed. “If there's time, I'll teach you to drive it.”

The Tulane lobby was just as big as that of the Hermitage but less grand, with wooden pillars and paneling and marble floors (there seemed to be a lot of marble in Nashville, Violet thought). There were no crowds—just a few people here and there in armchairs reading the evening paper and a few women wearing yellow sashes or yellow roses passing through.

On the way inside, Violet finished her explanation of how she'd gotten to Nashville, which she'd started as they walked from the Hermitage.

“And you wired Mother and Father from Washington and let them know you were all right?” Chloe asked.

“Yes. Mr. Martin made me,” Violet said.

“Good. I'm sure they must be frantic.” Chloe got her key from the desk clerk, who was playing pinochle with a drummer (as traveling salesmen were called). The drummer had his hat on.

Violet thought it was odd of Chloe to take Mother and Father's side, considering Chloe wasn't on speaking terms with either of them. “I don't think they're frantic. But
anyway, I told them I was all right. Mr. Martin paid for it.”

“Well, I think you should write them again. I'm not sure how long we're going to be here, but they'll be worried,” said Chloe as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

It seemed like no matter how many times she mentioned Mr. Martin's name, Chloe wasn't going to say anything about him. If Mr. Martin was sweet on Chloe, Violet thought, it must be one-sided. Violet was more concerned about “how long we're going to be here.” Chloe didn't seem as happy as she should have been to see Violet.

“But I'm going to stay with you,” Violet said. “Maybe you should be the one to write and tell them that. They don't listen to me.”

“We'll see,” said Chloe.

“Aren't you worried about Mr. Martin?” said Violet, trying again. “Those agents that were after him?”

“No,” said Chloe firmly, turning the key in the lock and opening the door. “Oh, don't look at me like that, Violet! This ax has been hanging over Theo's—over Mr. Martin's head all the time I've known him, and I can't worry about it anymore.”

Violet thought that was unkind, but Chloe looked so exhausted that Violet decided not to say anything. She looked around the room. It had two iron bedsteads, like the room in the Hermitage, but it was a bit bigger. Both
beds were clearly taken, which Violet guessed meant she would have to share with Chloe.

“I'm sorry, I know that sounds mean,” said Chloe. “But you know, Violet, you can't change people. Most of us find that out the hard way—I'm telling you for free. Do you want some Chero-Cola?”

There was a rattle of ice in a bucket, and the pop of a bottle opener, and Chloe handed Violet a soft drink bottle.

“Thanks,” Violet said, and took a long gulp of the Chero-Cola. It was very sweet, and she instantly felt less tired. She tried to pass the bottle back to Chloe.

“No, you go ahead and finish it,” said Chloe, sitting down on the bed with a sigh and taking off her shoes. “Don't worry about Mr. Martin, Violet. He can take care of himself.”

“What about Myrtle?” Violet demanded.

“He can take care of her too,” said Chloe, unlooping her stockings from her garters.

“What if he gets arrested? What's going to happen to Myrtle then?” Violet was getting frustrated. She had been counting on Chloe to take charge and fix things, not to take off her shoes and look exhausted.

Chloe frowned. “I don't know. You're right, Violet. I don't know.”

She stood up and left the room abruptly, and Violet heard her padding down the hall. To the bathroom, Violet assumed.

Violet stooped down and unlaced her own shoes. It was hot in here too, and the open window and transom that were supposed to catch a breeze didn't, because there wasn't one to catch. There was a fan on the windowsill, but when Violet went over to turn it on, she saw that it took nickels. She wasn't sure if it was worth it to spend any of her small store of cash for a few minutes of breeze. It looked like Chloe intended to go to sleep now. Violet would probably be expected to go to sleep too, even though she didn't know what had become of Myrtle. It was very frustrating.

The door creaked open. “I'm sorry, Violet. I'm just so tired. I don't know what we can do about your friend. We could call the police, but—”

“No,” said Violet, alarmed. “If Mr. Martin hasn't been caught, we don't want to call the police!”

“Right,” said Chloe. “I'm not sure if they'd even bother to look for a lost colored girl anyway, or what they'd do with her when they found her. Oh, dear. And you don't even know what town they left the train in?”

Violet shook her head. “I just know it was about an hour after we left Chattanooga.”

“Well, I guess the first thing is to find out which town it was,” said Chloe. “If we have to, we can drive over there in the Hope Chest.” She sighed. “Tomorrow, why don't you go over to the train station and look at the timetable and see if you can't figure out which town it was.”

“Okay,” said Violet.

Chloe flopped down on the bed with a creak of springs. “How is Stephen?” she said.

Violet was busy thinking about Myrtle and Mr. Martin, and it took her a second to remember who Stephen was—their brother, of course. “He's the same as ever.”

“Oh, dear,” said Chloe tiredly. “And Mother? How is Mother?”

“The same as ever,” said Violet shortly.

“I really am glad you're here, Violet.” Chloe put an arm up to cover her eyes. “I'm just so tired. And I have a lot of other things on my mind right now. Don't forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed.”

And she fell asleep before Violet could point out that she'd left her toothbrush at the Hermitage.

Violet Spies

V
IOLET SPENT A HOT, MISERABLE NIGHT
sharing a bed with Chloe and thinking that it would have been cooler in the Hermitage, where you didn't have to pay for the fan. But in the morning Violet had an idea.

She woke up stiffly next to Chloe, who was still asleep. A young woman was walking around the room, eating a bowl of Grape-Nuts. Violet figured this woman must be Miss Lewis, who Chloe had told her was the lady who had the other bed.

Violet dressed hurriedly and wanted to run out to the train station to start looking for Myrtle, but Miss Lewis insisted she should eat some Grape-Nuts first. They were supposed to be very good for you. There wasn't a spoon or any milk, so Violet scooped them up from the bowl with her fingers and chewed while Miss Lewis talked.