They call her Dana (29 page)

than he, a robustly built matron with merry brown eyes, a plump red mouth and hair an improbable shade of gold. She was wearing a garish dress of red, green, black and white plaid taffeta, eye-catching to say the least, and vividly red false cherries dangled from one side of her wide-brimmed black straw hat. An enormous diamond sparkled on her wedding finger, quite the largest gem I had ever seen, and a diamond sunburst was pinned to her lapel.

"I just knew someone was here!" she exclaimed in an accent so thick I was barely able to make out the words. "I told Herbie, Herbie, I said, I just know someone's here an' I'm gonna keep right on knockin' till I get results. Didn't I, Herbie? Didn't I say just that?"

"You said just that," Herbie said patiently.

"Louella, honey, you just can't go to New Orleans without stopping by Etienne's, my friend Junie Summerfield told me. Last year Junie bought a pair of candlesticks here, real steep, they was, cost her a mint, an' she hasn't talked about anything else—you've gotta look at them candlesticks every time you go see her. Well, I said to Herbie, Herbie, I said, I'm not gonna let Junie Summerfield get the jump on me. I'm gonna buy me some-thin' that's gonna make her bloomin' candlesticks look plum puny.''

"I—I'm very sorry," I said when I could finally get a word in edgewise, "but we're closed today. We're taking inventory, you see, and—"

"Oh, now, honey, you're not gonna break my heartl We're leavin' tomorrow, goin' back home to St. Louis, and I'd pine plum away if I didn't have somethin' from Etienne's to carry back with me. Somethin' special. Look at them chairs, Herbie! Ain't they grand?"

"Kinda big, Louella," Herbie observed.

"We're the Kramers from St. Louis, honey. I'm Louella and this here's Herbie. Kramer's Emporium—perhaps you've heard of it. It's the biggest store in the city, but we don't sell stufl" like this\ I just gotta buy somethin' to take back with me, and I just won't take no for an answer. You can sell it to us yourself an' we'll pay cash. Herbie's got a bundle in his pocket. Oh, what a gorgeous screen! Look at them cupids cavortin'. That's real tapestry, ain't it? Whatta you think, Herbie?"

"I'm not particularly fond of cupids, Louella."

"Talk about hard to please!"

Louella began to examine various pieces, darting here and there, her plaid taffeta skirt crackling noisily. Herbie took a puff on his cigar and gave me a long-suffering look as though to tell me there was no controlling her once she'd made up her mind to have something. He had a plump, pleasant face with sleepy-looking gray eyes and heavy lids. The top of his head was bald and shiny, with a sleek black fringe around it. The diamond in his stickpin, I noticed, was almost as large as the one on his wife's finger.

"Might as well sell her something," he said. "You're not gonna get rid of her 'less you do."

The idea came to me all at once, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to resist it. I brushed my hair back again and, leaving Herbie to his cigar, joined Lx)uella, who was critically examining a Louis XV side chair.

"We have a great many beautiful pieces," I told her, "but, of course, if you want something really special, there's the Josephine commode.' *

"Commode? Where is it, honey? Let me have a look."

I led her over to the commode Charies had denigrated earlier. I could see that Louella was not at all impressed.

"It needs dusting," I said. "It needs a good polish, too, but it's quite the finest thing we have in the store."

"Hmmmm," Louella murmured, eyes wandering.

"Of course, it's a copy," I confessed.

"A copy! Honey, I ain't payin' Herbie's good money for any copy, no matter how old it looks."

"Josephine didn't know it was a copy. They say it was her favorite piece of furniture when she was living on the isle of Martinique."

"Josephine?"

"Josephine Bonaparte," I said reverently, "Napoleon's first wife and the empress of France. This commode belonged to her when she was a girl growing up on Martinique. They say she was especially fond of the Bouchet ovals and polished all of the brass with her own hands, dreaming of some grand future as she did so."

"You don't say! Herbie! Herbie, come on over here and look at this!"

Herbie sauntered over and gazed at the commode with about

as much interest as he would have shown an ant crawling across the carpet. Heavy lids drooping, he puffed on his cigar and listened patientiy as Louella enthused over the commode.

*'It belonged to Josephine—you know, the empress of France, the one who slept around so much Napoleon divorced her. Junie Summerfield will bust a gut! I gotta have it, Herbie. I don't care /low much it costs!"

Herbie gave me a weary look. *'How much does it cost?" he asked in a martyred voice.

"Well—" I began.

"Money's no object!" Louella told me.

"The asking price is fifteen hundred dollars," I said calmly, "but it is a copy, after all, and—I really couldn't sell it for over a thousand and have a clear conscience."

You're going to go straight to hell, I told myself.

"We'll take it!" Louella exclaimed. "Just wait'U Junie Summerfield sees it. Wait'U I tell her how Josephine polished all the brass herself, dreaming of marry in' an emperor. A mere thousand bucks! It's a bargain, Herbie."

"It is indeed," Charles said gravely.

None of us had heard him come into the front of the shop. He had brushed his hair back from his brow and mcked his shirt in more securely and wiped the sweat from his face. His face was grim. Oh Lord, he's going to throttle me, I thought.

''I'm Charles Etienne,'' he told the Kramers.' 'I 'm the owner. May I be of some assistance?"

"No assistance needed," Louella said happily, "this little girl here has already sold us this marvelous commode. Herbie's gonna pay cash. Give him the thousand bucks, Herbie."

"If you will just step back into my office with me, Mr. Kramer, I'll write out a receipt for you, and we'll make arrangements to have the piece shipped to you."

"Shipped, my eye! We're gonna carry it with us!" Louella exclaimed. "We have plenty of room in the carriage—our man will help carry it out—and they can put it on the steamboat tomorrow morning. I ain't lettin' no one ship it. Might get lost on the way."

"Very well," Charles said smoothly. "There are some crates and packing straw in back. I'll pack it up for you myself."

"That'd be lovely, honey. Hurry up and give him the money, Herbie. I wanna stop by that fancy dress shop before it closes—

Corinne's. I saw a cunning hat in the window, pink straw with the sweetest velvet bows on the brim. It'll be smashing with my purple satin gown."

Charles smiled at her and gave me a very severe look that said we had much to talk about and then led Herbie to one of the offices in back. Louella chatted nonstop while we waited. Herbie had made a bundle with Kramer's Emporium, she informed me. Everyone thought he was crazy, buying that tacky little store that was going out of business, no one wanted it, you're gonna lose your shirt, everyone said, but Herbie knew a good thing when he saw it and went right ahead and bought it and began to expand and first thing you knew it was making a mint and now it was the biggest store in town and the Kramers were rolling in money. Herbie had a genius for business, no doubt about it, he was thinking of opening branches all over the South.

"Ten years from now we're gonna be an empireV Louella enthused.

"I'm sure that will be lovely for you," I said.

Charles and Herbie came back, Herbie thrusting the receipt into the pocket of his frock coat. He stepped to the door and summoned his man inside, and the strapping Negro in green livery carried the commode into the back of the store, Charles and Herbie following. Herbie paused to grind his cigar out in a Meissen dish sitting on a table. Charles pretended not to notice. Lx)uella continued her monologue, and after a while we heard banging as a lid was hammered onto one of the crates Charles had carried out into the alley earlier. The men returned shortly thereafter, and the Negro carried the crate out to the carriage. Herbie took Charles's hand and pumped it vigorously.

"Clever idea you have here," he said, "having a beautiful young woman to wait on your customers. You gotta real gem. I never saw anyone make a sale so smoothly. Knows her stuff, this little girl does."

"Yes," Charies said. He had to force the word out.

Herbie turned to me and gave me a big grin. "If you ever wanna leave this place, ever wanna get yourself another job, you just come to St. Louis and look me up. I promise ya I'll pay you double what you get here, even more if I have to. Kramer's could use a lass like you."

"Why—thank you very much," I said politely.

Charles showed the Kramers out and returned a few moments

later arid closed the door and locked it and heaved a heavy sigh. He gave me a long, thoughtful look, and I braced myself for the outburst.

"I—I suppose you're angry," I said nervously.

"Not really. Mildly irritated, perhaps."

"I couldn't resist it," I said in my defense. "She wanted something she could show off to her friends, and—well, they're going to be very impressed. I did tell her it was a copy."

"I heard."

"What else did you hear?"

"Everything. How Josephine polished the brass with her own hands—that was a nice touch."

"It made her happy."

He nodded lazily, unfolding the arms he had folded across his chest, resting his hands lighdy on his thighs. Bright afternoon sunlight slanted through the front windows, making restless pools on the carpet.

"Mr. Kramer could afford it," I said.

"I've no doubt he could afford to buy the whole store."

"At any rate, you're a thousand dollars richer."

"A hundred of it is yours," he told me.

I was startled. Charles nodded slowly.

"Our salesmen—that's Raoul at the moment—make a very small salary, but they get ten percent commission on every item they sell."

"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Why, I'll bet I could sell a tremendous lot of things. It would be lovely working in a store like this, surrounded by beautiful things. It would help you out-Julian says Raoul's a lousy salesman—and I—I'd be earning my keep."

Charles smiled, genuinely amused, and it was a lovely smile. I didn't see what was so bloody amusing.

"You can't work at Etienne's, Dana, though I've no doubt at all you'd be a whiz, Julian has spent an inordinate amount of our money trying to turn you into a proper young lady, and proper young ladies do not become shopgirls. Come along now, we have work to do in back."

"Don't forget my hundred dollars," I said peevishly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he drawled.

We resumed our work on the inventory, and Charles was as testy and demanding as he had been before, and I wasn't a bit

better-versed on bronzes, making a number of mistakes that irritated him no end. Dripping with perspiration as I lugged yet another heavy bronze over to the desk, I suggested that he pull open the back door so we might have a little air, and he informed me that good honest sweat never hurt anyone. I shot him a look that should have felled him on the spot. We continued to work, and I carried over a pair of firedogs representing Jupiter and Juno by M. Anguier—French bronze, not Italian. I had the distinct impression it pleased him to see me straining under the weight of them. I was young and healthy and strong, true, but there were limits. Proper young ladies didn't work like galley slaves. I told him so. He told me to find the bloody receipt and stop whining.

"Well," he said two hours later, "that's the last of the bronzes."

"Thank God for that," I snapped.

"I can't believe we've accomplished so much in one day. We should easily be able to finish the whole lot tomorrow." He stood up and arched his back, and I could hear tiny bones popping. "We just have the furniture and the paintings left."

"If you think I'm going to move heavy furniture—"

"No moving involved, you'll simply tag each piece after I've listed it. I imagine you can handle that. Tired?"

*' Exhausted," I complained.

"You did a commendable job," he told me, "better by far than Raoul would have done. The mood I've been in, I'd probably have killed him, but then he's responsible for the mood I've been in. I'll kill him when he gets back."

He rubbed the back of his neck and brushed a spray of moist chestnut locks from his brow and smiled again. His smile was every bit as nice as Julian's, I thought. What a beautiful mouth he had. What a beautiful man he was, however stem and formidable. I no longer detested him. I was no longer the least bit intimidated by him. He could actually be almost nice when it suited him, I reflected.

Charles glanced at a lovely ormolu clock. "It's almost five. Jasper will be arriving any minute now. Shall we call it a day?"

"Gladly," I said.

He gave me a look that was—well, not fond but not at all hostile either. Had I won him over? Did he no longer resent my presence in his house? Did he no longer consider me a conniving

little hariot? I couldn't tell for sure, but I did know that both of us were more relaxed, more at ease with each other than we had been before. Charles stretched, throwing his shoulders back, a healthy, magnificent animal. He looked tousled and weary, and I decided not to tell him about the tiny smudge of ink on his jaw.

Leaving the desktop a shambles with ledger open and papers scattered everywhere, he led the way to the front of the store. I brushed my skirt and adjusted my sleeves as he unlocked the door. How lovely it was to step out into the fresh air. There was a light breeze I found very welcome. Only a few carriages moved down the street. Jasper hadn't arrived yet. Charles sighed, shoving errant chesmut locks from his brow yet again. His blue eyes were thoughtful, but he wasn't thinking about me. He was thinking about business. A frown suddenly appeared, making a furrow over the bridge of his nose, and he snapped his fingers.

"The records of last month's sales—I meant to bring them home with me to go over tonight. I'll go fetch them. You wait here."