“I know, I know…” She shrugged and tugged at the trim on her collar. “Figured if I had to meet the ladies for the first time, I’d better make a decent impression. But don’t get too used to this.” She pointed to the dress. “You won’t be seeing a lot of it.”
“Then I’ll enjoy it while I have it.” He extended his hand. “You look amazing, Lottie. That’s a really pretty color. Shows off your green eyes.”
Her cheeks turned the nicest shade of pink and she stammered a “Thank you,” then took his offered hand. Together, they headed to the lodge to meet up with the men before heading to Loveland.
* * * * *
L
OTTIE COULD HARDLY THINK
straight after hearing Gil’s compliment. Had he called the dress pretty, or was he referring to her? Perhaps she would never know. Still, she could bask in the possibility that he’d been referring to more than the dress, which she knew to be anything but lovely. When they reached the lodge, Lottie went in search of Mrs. Parker. She found her in the dining hall, frantically scrubbing at a stain on the floor.
“Mrs. Parker, are you going down the mountain with us to fetch the ladies?”
The older woman glanced up, a frazzled look on her face. “No, I think I’d better stay here and work on getting their rooms ready. I’ve got fresh sheets on the beds and have mopped the floors. I’ve been hard at work in the kitchen too. The chocolate pies are cooling and the venison stew is cooking.”
Lottie swallowed hard. She would never say so out loud, but Mrs. Parker’s cooking—particularly her venison stew—left something to be desired. It certainly wouldn’t have been Lottie’s first choice to welcome the women to town. Instead of commenting, she simply smiled. “How can we ever thank you for all you’ve done?”
Mrs. Parker’s eyes filled with tears as she stood. “Thank me? Oh, honey, the thank-yous need to be reversed. You’re doing all of this to save the lodge. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
Lottie gave her a warm hug. “Happy to do it. And I’m sure the show is going to be a huge success.”
“I’m only the tiniest bit nervous about all of these big-city women seeing our little lodge.” Mrs. Parker’s nose wrinkled. “Hope they’re not put off by the rustic feel.”
“We made all the details as clear as we could in the correspondence. They have some idea of what they’re getting into,” Lottie said. “Besides, plenty of folks pay good money to come to Estes for the rustic feel. There’s no need to apologize for it. It’s likely just what the doctor ordered for these gals. Most are probably ready to get out of the big city and relax for a spell.”
“True.” Mrs. Parker released a slow breath. “Guess I’m not showing much faith, now am I? I could be celebrating the fact that this is happening. If I can keep myself calm, I’ll do that.”
“They’re going to love you, Mrs. Parker.” Lottie gave her another tight squeeze.
“Just in case you have any doubt in your mind, I really am looking forward to the girls staying with us.”
“I’m so glad.”
Mrs. Parker took a seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. “I’ve always read that verse about going into all the world to share the gospel message, but I never knew how to get there. I’m not really what one would call a world traveler, after all.” She grinned. “So, how good of the Lord to bring the world to me.”
“Never thought about it like that,” Lottie said. “But you’re right. He’s bringing the world to our doorstep.”
Gilbert appeared at her side, a crooked smile on his face. “And the world is waiting to be picked up in three hours, so we’d better get a move on.”
Minutes later, Augie, Jeb, Phineas, and Chauncy showed up in three Stanley motorcars, which they’d rented from Freelan Stanley, their inventor. Lottie couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Stanley knew what they were up to. Not that he would try to stop them. Oh, no. The local entrepreneur certainly found Parker Lodge no real competition for his big, beautiful Stanley Hotel, which was filled with well-to-do guests year-around.
Lottie followed Gilbert outside and smiled as Phineas tooted the horn on his large black Stanley Steamer. He let out a whistle when he noticed Lottie in her green dress.
Gilbert opened the passenger side door for her. “Your carriage awaits, my lady.” He offered a sweeping bow, and she giggled.
“Thank you, Gil.” She batted her eyelashes. “My goodness, it’s large.”
“That’s why they call it the ‘Pullman of the Road,’ my dear,” he said. “Large enough to easily seat half a dozen or more, with room left over for luggage.”
“Perfect for a day like today, kind sir.” She gave a little curtsy.
“Stop flirting and climb in, Lottie,” Phineas said. “Let’s go fetch some brides.”
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.