Authors: M. Ruth Myers
"Just noodle it out on paper, for fun," Aggie urged.
"I wonder what it
would
cost." For the first time Mama noticed the vase overflowing with roses that sat on the sideboard. "Why, what lovely roses! Whoever sent them?"
"Felix." Aggie's answer was crisp.
Thirty-two
Aggie had said she was visiting Kitty, but instead she was checking shop windows. Her mother's idea of opening a dress shop kindled more excitement in her than she liked to acknowledge. If Uncle Finney agreed to the loan, then she'd coax Mama to give her just one tiny corner to display trend-setting items. Some silky pants outfits like the suit of Felix's she'd worn. They'd be madly comfortable around the house and the bee's knees if you wore them to a party somewhere. If she explained what she had in mind, a good seamstress ought to be able to make them.
For almost a week now she and her mother had worked like beavers thinking out costs, drawing up lists, making a budget, selecting a name. It had given Aggie something to think about while she ignored Felix's calls and waited for the nasty bruise beneath her eye to fade. It still was visible, but Mama was going to present their plan to Uncle Finney tomorrow, and Aggie was determined to do her research.
Not content to peer in windows she ducked into stores here and there. A month ago such forays would have made her too despondent, browsing through racks of dresses and tables of sweaters and knowing she hadn't a nickel to spend. Now she was checking prices and displays, eavesdropping on customers. It was awfully exciting.
When her feet started hurting, she started up the block to the streetcar line. They were economizing, driving the car as little as possible. She was about to step from the curb when a large black Dusenberg swung in front of her blocking her way.
"You've been avoiding me," Felix said through the passenger window.
Nervousness curled its sharp claws against Aggie's skin. The sensual tingle which the sight of Felix produced in her was almost nonexistent.
"Hello, Felix." She forced a smile. "I've been busy—"
"I don't like it when you don't even take my phone calls."
Her heart had started to hammer up near her throat. The driver of the Dusenberg was a tough looking man with pock-marked skin. He looked straight ahead.
"Look, Felix, maybe — maybe we're just not right for each other."
Without thinking she had stepped closer to speak. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist.
"The only problem we have is your smart mouth. If you think you can dump me like some chump, you'd better think again."
"Let go of me, please."
She was frightened. He gripped her wrist harder. Two women skirted the car chattering gaily, unaware of the drama.
"You're not going to walk out on me. Who do you think sees to it my boss controls joints from here to Boston? I want legs broken, I know who to hire. I want bodies dumped, I know where to go." He paused. "I know where your family lives."
"Is he bothering you, Aggie?"
She spun to see Theo making his way toward her.
"Oh, Theo. No. We were — we were just talking."
Felix raked a contemptuous glance over Theo and with insolent slowness released her. Aggie nursed her wrist in her opposite hand before she could think. Theo stood at her side now, his eyes fixed on Felix. His back was straight. In spite of his cane, his expression carried a challenge. And Aggie's heart kept echoing Felix's warning:
"I know where your family lives."
The Dusenberg glided away. Aggie brushed Theo's sleeve in gratitude.
"I was buying a hat," he said. "Shall we go for tea?"
"That would be lovely."
Her cousin touched her chin, tilting her head and viewing her bruise. "He did that to you, didn't he? That bastard."
Aggie flashed her best smile.
"No," she lied nervously. "No, honestly, Theo, he didn't."
***
The dress shop idea was more than a passing whim to their mother. Merely drawing up plans had given her a new role to replace the one she'd lost as wife and hostess. A tentative confidence shone in her as she sat beside Aggie on one of the striped silk sofas, facing Uncle Finney. Kate, Woody and Rosalie had taken positions which placed them as much as possible in the background.
"A business proposal?" Their uncle was clearly caught off guard by Mama's opening.
She passed him the pages of neatly copied figures she'd been holding so tightly. "I think we've been very practical, Phinneas. We're all willing to work. Miriam Finer knows of a shop for rent reasonably. We can make a go of this."
His jowls went slack and he sat speechless as he read Mama's plan with its list of requirements, budget and proposed repayment schedule. Kate could determine nothing from his expression, and she couldn't catch Aggie's eye. Aggie had been uncommonly tense since returning home late this morning. Mama's fingers twisted together, relaxed, then twisted again.
At last their uncle let the final page slip from his fingertip. Phlegm rattled as he cleared his throat.
"An admirable idea, Ginny, but quite impractical. Dress shops are a dime a dozen. And you're asking me to lend you two thousand dollars? I can't afford to throw that kind of money away."
"But we'd repay—"
"And what if the enterprise failed, eh? What would you do then?"
He tugged his collar grandly, the bigwig showering nuggets of advice on children. As his eyes met Kate's she saw in them the glint of malice.
"I'd have nothing to do with it," she said pointedly.
Was he punishing all of them to spite her for thwarting him over the house, or because she knew about his use of their beach? He hadn't the courage to be an out-and-out crook, but he could do damage enough out of pettiness. Mama looked deflated. Even Aggie was at a loss for words. Before Kate could decide what tactic to try, her uncle spoke again.
"If you'd let me sell this confounded house, Ginny, I could pay off the bank and invest what's left for you. I've explained that before. Living modestly, you and Woody could get by on the income. Although frankly, if you have any sense at all, you'll remarry."
The silence was so profound Kate could almost hear dust settling on the cabbage roses in the wallpaper. Of all the comments her uncle might have made, it was the worst. Her mother's slowly indrawn breath was as clear as the blare of a trumpet.
"I am not merchandise, Phinneas." She stood up. "Please get that through your head. Our house is not for sale. Our boat is not for sale — and I am not for sale!"
"Bravo!" Aggie sprang to her feet and applauded. Her siblings joined in. Uncle Finney sat flabbergasted. He rose with wounded majesty.
"I don't know what to say about this display, Ginny."
"Then say good-night." Mama extended her hand. "Thanks so much for your kind advice, Phinneas. And for your time, of course."
Sarcasm edged her voice. Unaccustomed to it, and to being dismissed, he stalked peevishly to the hall where he clamped his hat on his head. "Call me when you've regained your senses."
Only when the door had closed did tears brighten Mama's eyes. She jerked her head erect, trying not to let the rest of them see.
"It — was a great deal to ask—"
"If you can do it for a thousand dollars, I can give you the money," Kate cut in.
Her mother blinked.
"Over the holidays two friends from school drove up to Vermont and brought back booze. Two carloads. I put up some of the money. My share of the profit was a thousand dollars. I was keeping it for an emergency, but you might as well use it."
Mama sank onto the sofa. Her face was pale.
"Kate, how could you? It's — it's illegal. It wouldn't be right. Using money from something like that."
"Oh, do lose your scruples, Mama!" Rosalie was impatient. "Uncle Finney buys booze. Where do you suppose he gets it? And how is smuggling any worse than buying?"
Genevieve Hinshaw stared at her sensible oldest daughter. Her mouth firmed. She looked at Kate.
"A thousand dollars would be splendid!"
***
Joe had bought a second-hand truck. Sitting behind the wheel felt different from driving one he'd borrowed from somebody else. It made him feel established. More sure of himself. Guilt pricked him, though, when he thought of the cost, not in dollars but in what had happened with Rita.
A week ago Friday, Vogel had started talking about a truck he'd seen for sale. They could go halves. Talk the price down. Just think what you could do with a truck, Vogel said. Joe liked the idea. So after dinner he tried it on Sebastian. Then the two of them talked to his uncles. It was after ten when he realized that was the night Rita had invited him over because her father and brothers would be away.
Next morning he'd taken her flowers. She threw them in his face. He didn't blame her. The way he'd behaved, it looked as though the intimacy she'd offered wasn't worth remembering. It bothered him that he'd let it slip his mind, and it bothered him that he'd hurt her. He could do worse than a girl like Rita.
He parked the truck and walked up the street to return his books to the library. Preoccupied, he nearly collided with Kate and her mother and sister before he saw them.
"Woody thought those books you recommended were wonderful," Mrs. Hinshaw said after they'd exchanged greetings. "We heard Incan words and Aztecan words for weeks on end."
"Thank goodness King Tut came along or we'd still be hearing about cutting out beating hearts," said Kate's sister the flapper with a shudder.
Joe nodded witlessly. He wanted to tell Kate about the truck. About how, at the last minute, Vogel's penny-pinching proved stronger than his enthusiasm so that Joe bought the truck lock, stock and barrel. Instead he said something correct and they started on, but all at once Kate's mother turned back.
"Mr. Santayna, you wouldn't happen to know a good seamstress who might want work half days, would you?"
Joe's eyes leaped to Kate's seeking some clue where this was leading. She looked as surprised as he was.