Tooner Schooner (10 page)

“You never seen anythin’ like the way that kid worked today.”

“I been checkin’ them figgers,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Two thousand an’ eighty-three dollars an’ fifty-nine cents. Imagine us, owin’ thousan’s! We’re gettin’ up in sassiety.”

“What I wanna know is where they got their hooks on that much cash in the first place,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“It’s them union wages,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Red, he’s the youngest one of ’em, an’ even if he has got ’lectric wires in his head ’stead o’ brains, he gets better’n twenty dollars a day!”

Mrs. Feeley shook her head. “An’ me an’ Mr. Feeley lived good when he was carry in’ a hod at a dollar a day! They’re single. They could easy have a few hundred dollars in the bank.”

Miss Tinkham smiled. “Do let’s get on with the financial meeting. The buses: fifty dollars each?”

“They wouldn’t a brought that for scrap, after they taken out the engines and taken off the wheels,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Three hundred an’ fifty, right there, just for the buses.” Mrs. Rasmussen ticked it off. “But they never charged for the haulin’.”

“A hunnert dollars,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Now them cinder blocks,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “They ain’t wrote them down neither.”

“Some ol’ pavin’ was tore up an’ threw on the dump. I b’lieve they was free. Put down twenty dollars for the ready-mix cement.”

“Even with the loan of the scoop shovel and the loads of bank-run gravel at cost, by the time the asphalt topping was poured on the driveway it cost over four hundred dollars,” Miss Tinkham said. “It would have come to well over a thousand dollars if we had hired it done.”

“They got down four hundred an’ twenty-three bucks,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Let’s make it an even five.”

“Seven toilets, six showers an’ six zinks,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

“Three hunnert an’ twelve dollars?” Mrs. Feeley squinted at the figures. “’Course they come outa them ol’ Marine barracks out at Nellie’s Tit that was tore down.”

“I near died,” Mrs. Rasmussen grinned, “when you made their plumber friend run the bathwater into that little canal o’ tiles…”

“Need it for the garden,” Mrs. Feeley defended herself.

“I’m gonna have some roses big as cabbages, ’cause they gotta have their feet in clay!”

“Like all the nicest people,” Miss Tinkham said.

“Keep your behind close to the ground an’ you’ll never git no highfalutin notions!”

“What’s goin’ on,” Mrs. Rasmussen said in her Ned Sparks voice, “the Ladies’ Garden Club or the business meetin’?”

“It’s slightly too down to earth for the former,” Miss Tinkham laughed.

Mrs. Rasmussen found the place in her copybook. “The lumber come to four hundred an’ twenty-two dollars.”

“It’s awful,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Battleship linoleum from the wreckers. Good, too. They got down ninety-six dollars, includin’ the paper for underneath,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

“Make it a hunnert,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“The ’lectric light. They ain’t got but fifty-two dollars for material down here.” Mrs. Rasmussen was horrified.

“Red did all the work himself,” Miss Tinkham said. “After our dreadful experience with the Ark burning, he said he would be doubly careful.”

“Then they was the paint an’ the blinds,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“The blinds were second-hand and we bought the paint ourselves.”

Mrs. Rasmussen got a receipt out of her bag. “Seventy-three dollars, includin’ the aluminum for the tops to bounce the sun off.”

“I’ve clean forgot what we give for the insulatin’ batts,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Twelve bags of batts at two dollars and seventy-five cents per each,” Sunshine’s soft voice came from the couch. “Thirty-three dollars…plus the tax…”

“Merciful Heaven,” Miss Tinkham cried, “have we warmed a little Morgenthau in our bosom?”

“Put down thirty-five, neat,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Now what’s this here misk?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

Miss Tinkham looked over her shoulder. “Short for miscellaneous. Fifty dollars. Have we covered the major items?”

“What’s the bad news?”

“They left out one of the principal items,” Miss Tinkham said. “The six water heaters!”

“What’s the dif-fukelty?” Jasper came in.

“You left out all them brand new water heaters,” Mrs. Feeley said.

Jasper took up the account book. “It was just an oversight.” He sat down. “I’m sorry. On account of getting the six, they gave us the benefit of dealer’s discount. Whole thing was under seven hundred.”

“Long as you didn’t do it on purpose,” Mrs. Feeley said. “Have a beer.”

“You done right, Jasper,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “An’ I love the porcelain top. Want a nice slice o’ cold turkey? With ham stuffin? We had some left from the trip an’ Tooner made me bring it home.”

“Don’t mind if I do. You don’t think we ran you into too much money on the job?”

“You silly goof,” Mrs. Feeley put her arm around him, “six stout weatherproof houses, five singles an’ this double, every kinda conveniencies that’s ever been thought of had oughta cost ten times that much.”

“The way I see it,” Mrs. Rasmussen sat down again at the table and took up her book, “we ain’t covered near all you done, but as close as we’ll ever get is twenty-seven hundred dollars. You’re gonna get that back whether you like it or not.”

“With interest,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Couldn’t we just sort of live along, rent free, till we used up what we paid out in money?” Jasper mumbled through a mouthful of turkey.

“It is not businesslike,” Miss Tinkham said.

“Hell, no!” Mrs. Feeley banged the table. “S’pose we was to have a fallin’ out about somethin? Or you wanted to move? Or had a fight with one o’ the other guys?”

“Look: I’ve been decent about this and humored you, but interest! That’s too much.”

“Why should you use your friends worse’n you would a bunch o’ strangers in a bank?” Mrs. Feeley said.

“We have to get the tax assessor in to evaluate the units,” Miss Tinkham sighed. “Then we’ll be able to set the actual figures.”

“These here houses might get us so soft that we’d forget to build the Ark,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“There’s small chance of that,” Jasper laughed. “You’ll always have a good income from these, long as you care to rent them.”

“When we build the Ark, it’s gonna be right over there.” She pointed out the front door. “We got kinda spoiled with all this here easy, soft livin’ like we got now. The kerosene stove don’t seem so hot now.”

“We’re gonna find another wood-burnin’ cookstove, even ’longside The Beauty.” Mrs. Rasmussen gazed fondly at the range. “Maybe we could have a fireplace in the kitchen.”

“No reason at all why you can’t. A corner one would be nice with a raised hearth,” Jasper said.

“An’ two o’ them pitcher windows where the show windows used to be for the plants,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Now we’re in the really state an’ workin’ on the captain’s yacht runnin’ cruises,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “We got no time to get old.”

T
UESDAY
NIGHT
,
the great white schooner sailed its contented cargo back to the bay after dark. Mission Beach lay curving off towards the city like a diamond necklace round the neck of a lovely woman.

“Never seen it like this before,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

Miss Tinkham kept on watching the lights in companionable silence. Mrs. Rasmussen sighed and said very softly, “He’s so fine! Reckon him an’ Sunshine…?”

“Not if they were to burn him at the stake! Heaven defend us all from a man of principle!”

Mrs. Rasmussen was surprised at the bitterness of Miss Tinkham’s tone. She must have smashed against the same kind of rock to talk like that.

“Maybe things’ll change somehow,” Mrs. Rasmussen said hopefully. “I like him enough to want him to be happy, even if it is somebody else.”

Miss Tinkham waited a long while before replying. “There is one great consolation in that kind of love: it’s the only kind that never disappoints.”

“I’m satisfied to feed him. He sure can eat!”

“We’re in,” Miss Tinkham said. “Herman has doused the sails and furled them. I’ll go below and make sure the passengers get all their impediments.”

“I gotta check the stores for tomorra. Looks like a plague o’ locusts had been through that galley. Gotta make a list…” She scuttled down the ladder after Miss Tinkham.

“No cameras left behind! What an organized group!” Miss Tinkham sat down on one of the bunks and had a beer.

“Cheese. Ham. Spuds. Anchovies. I’ll check the lockers in the chartroom.” Mrs. Rasmussen moved on into the next compartment, beer bottle in one hand, notebook in the other. Miss Tinkham stretched her tired legs in front of her and leaned back blissfully thinking of the taxi ride home as soon as everything was secured shipshape. Overhead she could hear the goodbyes and footsteps of the disembarking passengers. Once in a while she could hear the bass rumble of the captain’s voice as he saw the guests safely ashore. No harm in catching forty winks, she thought, while she waited for orders.

“Ps-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!”

Miss Tinkham’s head snapped up.

“Ps-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!”

Where could it be coming from? She saw Mrs. Rasmussen’s hand beckoning through the passageway. Miss Tinkham tiptoed to the next cabin. Mrs. Rasmussen was kneeling on one of the bunks, her face glued to a porthole. Miss Tinkham knelt beside her.

“Pipe that!” Mrs. Rasmussen muttered. Miss Tinkham stared at the brightly lighted dock. Under an arc-light, close enough for accurate scrutiny, but far enough away to prevent her from hearing what was being said. Miss Tinkham saw Captain Elisha Dowdy squirming under the inquisition conducted by a female who was a cross between Salome and the Witch of Endor. “Can’t be nobody but her,” Mrs. Rasmussen grated.

“The proprietary air!” Miss Tinkham snorted. “The Taming of the Shrew, indeed! Words fail me…”

“Even when you’re seein’ it, you can’t believe it…like the man said about the giraffe: ‘There ain’t no such animal.’”

“She’s come for her pound of flesh,” Miss Tinkham said.

“She’ll get no pound tonight,” Mrs. Rasmussen said, “they ain’t even a can o’ beans aboard.”

“That’s just a figure of speech,” Miss Tinkham said, “Shakespeare. She wants her cut. Oh, for the knowledge, the inspiration of a Portia to keep that daughter of the succubi from getting one drop of blood!”

“How could he?” Mrs. Rasmussen wailed.

“The male animal knows no conscience.”

“Close-featured like a roach,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

“That frightful bleached hair!” Miss Tinkham shuddered. “She looks exactly like Donald Duck with a Toni!”

“Slabsided and bowlegged from the knees up! She’s so thin an’ at the same time so wide…all spraddled out.”

“And why not?” Miss Tinkham said. “The captain must have been blind.”

“Blind drunk. We mustn’t let on like we seen.” Mrs. Rasmussen drew back from the porthole as she saw the woman ramble off. “When she walks, looks like somebody throwin’ a pile o’ brush in the lake. Cheesit, here he comes now!” The ladies stepped quickly back into the main cabin and began working on their beer. They were looking just a little too intently at the overhead. “That paint’s beginnin’ to flake.” Mrs. Rasmussen looked up in surprise as the captain came smartly down the ladder. He seemed nervous and his tone was somewhat gruff:

“We’ll get underway at nine. Everything’s took care of. Pull the hatch cover to behind you and lock it when you leave. You know where to put the key,” he said.

“Grub for how many?” she said.

“I forgot,” he said and pulled out his wallet. He gave Mrs. Rasmussen two twenty-dollar bills. “That cover it?”

“Is there anything further?” Miss Tinkham got up and made ready to go ashore.

“I’ll see you aboard in the mornin’.” With more haste than dexterity he went topside and they heard him pounding his heels down the dock.

“Scared to death we’d see her,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Wouldn’t he die if he knew?”

“And not without reason,” Miss Tinkham said.

I
T
WAS ALMOST TEN O’CLOCK
by the time Mrs. Feeley, Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen handed Sunshine carefully out of the taxi in front of the Pango Pango Club.

“She really is a vision,” Miss Tinkham said. “I’m sure she won’t need any further audition.”

Sunshine wore a full-skirted white cotton taffeta dress that was too small for Darleen. The basque bodice was enormously becoming and her shoulders and neck gleamed honey-gold above the low cut neckline. Her long black hair hung almost to her waist and she wore a red camellia behind one ear.

Sunshine smiled as Miss Tinkham took her arm. Mrs. Feeley pressed forward through the crowd waiting to enter the front door.

“She does a land-office business, all right.” Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham shoved Sunshine ahead. “Hi, Velma!”