Parlor Games: A Novel Part 31

"It's a long trip from Mexico City," said Gene. "You must be tired."

"That's the least of it."

"What exactly were you doing there?"

"Helping Rudolph's uncle with a business deal."

"Was it a success?"

"Yes, he's quite pleased."

Gene ducked his head to study the expression on my downturned face. "Then why so glum?"

"Things got rather complicated." I pressed my hand over my heart. "I want to tell you something, Gene."

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm in love with a man I met there."

Gene jingled the ice in his drink. "My, my, that is a predicament."

"And I can't have him, because I'm a married woman."

"I'm sorry," said Gene, patting my hand.

Tears gathered in my eyes. What good was life without Alonso? If I could have frozen one moment in time, it would have been there, in Cuernavaca, under Mexico's mountain-rimmed skies, in his embrace. But once again happiness had eluded me-no, been s.n.a.t.c.hed from me. Rage boiled up, mingling with sadness; my chest compressed into a rumbling geyser. No, I told myself, you can't sit here and allow your rising torment to erupt-not in the dining room of the hotel you own, not in front of your younger brother. With the last gulp of my drink I washed down the bile of my anguish. "Come," I said, standing, "let's walk the property."

I talked Gene into hiking the complete length of the old path along the river, even though a gusty wind whipped wisps of my hair loose and lashed them across my cheeks.

Gene was recounting his last visit with Frank. "And then Frank said, 'I draw the line at you gambling away my mortgage payment.' "

"It serves you right, borrowing money from her repeatedly."

"I repaid her."

"I should hope so."

"You know, she's a bit of a speculator herself. When she visited in November, we took a walk through Hot Springs and spotted this quaint house with curlicue-wood eaves and a wraparound porch. All very gingerbread. She said it would make an excellent investment. I didn't see it myself, but she said Hot Springs would soon be booming and someday a banker or doctor would move in and want a place just like it."

"I suppose she's right, but what would you do with it meantime?"

"My point precisely. I told her that poker doesn't require as much money in advance or worry over the long run."

"Do you call her Frank?"

"Usually. I tried 'Frankie' once and she nearly slugged me."

"Really?"

"Well, no, she just said, 'Don't get cute with me.' So now the riskiest I get is 'dear' or 'my sweet.' "

"Does she make you happy?"

"Mostly."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"No, I am. I do want to marry her."

"You love her, then?"

Gene kicked a branch off the trail. "In my own way. As you say, an older woman probably suits me best."

"If I know you, it's the family money that suits you."

"I take my lessons from the best, my dear Baroness."

"Well, I did introduce you. But, as you once said, she's my friend, too."

"Meaning what?"

"That she'll expect to see a great deal of me, too."

Gene was not the most sympathetic soul. But he had enough charm to nudge me out of the pique that overtook me whenever I recalled Dougherty orchestrating my inglorious exit from Mexico. And I, determined to make the best of my visit, put on a pleasant face and focused my attention on the business before us, the sale of the hotel. We had one viable offer on the table, from a Chicago businessman, an Anthony Fratto.

Gene and I reviewed the paperwork in his office the next day.

"The buyers that came around before him were just fis.h.i.+ng for a deal," he said. "But this one, it's a solid offer."

I tapped my finger on the line spelling out the offer-$205,000. Counting the original price and all the renovation, I'd already invested $86,000. "It's not enough. Any rube can see this hotel will be the first choice for the racehorse crowd."

"Word has been out about the racetrack for months now. I doubt anything better will come in."

"We have plenty of time before opening. I won't accept anything less than $220,000."

"He could walk away."

"I doubt it. But if he does, there'll be others."

"You expect me to manage this place forever?"

I c.o.c.ked my head at him. "You're complaining about a steady job? About being able to help Maman?"

"I'm engaged, remember?"

"You promised you'd see this through."

"I know." Gene tugged the corner of his mouth into a pout.

"It shouldn't be much longer. Then you'll be free."

"I just don't like dawdling with Frank."

"Have you set a date yet?"

"No, Frank says we need more time."

It seemed that wasn't all Frank needed. Later that day, as I sat in the lobby reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea-I'd finally found a book that could transport me out of my sorrow-Gene marched up to me. "Can you come back to my office?"

I closed my book, and he offered his hand to help me rise. I asked, "Did you hear from Fratto?"

"No," he muttered, taking such long strides I could barely keep up.

We found his a.s.sistant, William, riffling through a file cabinet in his office.

"William," said Gene. "Will you excuse us?"

"I need to find the produce order."

"Well, find it later."

William grabbed a bundle of papers and rushed off.

I sat in front of Gene's empty desk. "What's going on?"

"I just received a letter from Frank."

"Yes?"

"She's got cold feet."

"Over what?"

Gene worried his palm over his clenched hand. "Something about me not being prepared to support the two of us."

"Why all the sudden worry about that?"

Gene shook his head. "I've got a job, haven't I?"

"What did you tell her you'll do when this place sells?"

"Find work in Chicago."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know."

I brushed a hand over my mouth. Frank was a very logical person; she must have had cause for concern. "Have you borrowed any more money from her?"

Gene forced the breath out of his nostrils, like a child huffing over an injustice. "Last month I borrowed two hundred dollars. But I've paid her back before. She knows that."

"When were you supposed to pay this back?"

"Last week."

"And why haven't you?"

"Because I don't have it. Unless I borrow from the hotel."

"Oh, no, you won't."

Gene pressed his palms to his desk, stiffening his arms. "But I don't want to lose her."

"I'll lend you the funds and recoup it out of your pay."

Gene nibbled at his bottom lip. "Can I send it right away?"

"First you'd better write a nice long letter."

Unbeknownst to me, a letter of reckoning also awaited me in New York. With matters fairly well in hand at the hotel, I traveled north, resolved to leave heartache behind and journey to England. When I arrived at my New York headquarters, the Waldorf-Astoria, the clerk handed me a note from Rudolph.

January 8, 1903

My dear May, It is with great sadness that I inform you I have filed for divorce. I have been patient with you, but you have repeatedly broken your promises to return. I can only conclude you have chosen to live without me. I will not tolerate this any longer. You need not contact me in the future. Please inform my solicitor (address below) of where he can correspond with you.

Regretfully yours, Rudolph

WHATEVER WILL I DO?.

NEW YORK AND PITTSBURGH-FEBRUARY 1903