Wedding Belles (15 page)

A couple of minutes after seven, he eased his way through the back door. Lottie gave him a warm hug and thanked him for coming. Phineas arrived moments later, hair combed, face shaved, and wearing what appeared to be a new shirt. He slipped in through the kitchen. Lottie appreciated the men being extra careful. With all the scuttlebutt from the ladies in the Women’s League, no doubt they felt put on the spot.

She flashed a reassuring smile at the fellas then turned her attention to the whole group. “Folks, I’m so glad you’re here tonight. We’ve had a rough day, as many of you have heard. I hesitate to mention it, but I’m of the opinion that we should keep things out in the open. There appears to be some opposition to our melodrama, but I feel sure things will quiet down shortly. We have to keep forging ahead, focusing on the task set before us. Agreed?”

Several of the ladies hollered out, “Agreed!” but Phineas and Jeb did not. In fact, they scooted down in their chairs and looked more concerned than ever.

From a chair at the front of the room, Fanny waved her hand. “Lottie, before we start, there’s something I’d like to say. I believe I speak on behalf of most of our cast members.” She rose and turned to face Gilbert, who sat nearby. “Young man, I know you probably aren’t keen on all of us knowing your family’s business.”

Gilbert squirmed in his chair.

“I don’t mean to put you or your mother on display or bring you any kind of embarrassment, but I’ve noticed that you don’t have a lot of customers around here. I want to do something about that. Now, I can’t speak for the other ladies, but as for me, I’m going to do everything I can not just to save this show, but to save your family’s lodge as well. If it means staying up all night sewing costumes. If it means spending all my free hours building the set. If it means working round the clock with the fellas so that they can memorize their lines…whatever it takes. I’m in.”

“Me too,” Margaret chimed in from behind her.

“Count me in,” Cornelia said.

“I’ve always loved a challenge,” Cherry added.

Gilbert looked on, red-faced but smiling.

One by one the women added their names to the list. They would merge forces and put on the best show in town…or they would die trying.

Though grateful for their dedication, Lottie certainly hoped it was the former and not the latter. She also hoped the men would add their voices to the fray. For now, at least two of them seemed more likely to bolt than to commit to linking arms with the ladies.

When they finished, Gilbert rose and gave them a nod. “Ladies, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I only wish my father could’ve been here to see such a display of support.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Thank you for your patience with us as we move forward. This melodrama is a first for us, so we’re breaking new ground.”

“And we’re thrilled to have your support,” Lottie added, her heart now soaring. She shifted gears and moved into the rehearsal time. The cast members gathered around the tables in the dining hall for what Flossie called a roundtable reading—a straight read-through of the script from start to finish.

Most of the ladies took to their new roles with little trouble, but several of the fellas stumbled a bit. Perhaps their acting skills were better suited off the stage than on.

Still, how wonderful to hear them read through the whole script—that funny, melodramatic script. God bless Flossie and Fanny for their hard work in coming up with it all. Now, if only the set and costumes would come together as easily. For now, Lottie would take what she could get, and an excellent first rehearsal went a long way in lifting her spirits.

The evening ended on a high note. Literally. Cornelia rehearsed her solo, an operatic number that Flossie and Fanny had come up with that was sure to please the crowd. By the time they parted ways, even Phineas and Jeb were in good spirits. And when Fanny and Jeb lingered in the doorway to say their good nights, Lottie had her first real glimmer of hope that the ladies might, indeed, fall for the men. A few of them, anyway. Not that any of the women had figured out the real reason the fellas had brought them to Estes Park. Oh no. Phineas and the others would go to their graves with that secret. Still, with Jeb looking so nice in that starched blue shirt, Fanny appeared to be smitten.

Instead of going straight home after rehearsal, Lottie headed to the kitchen to put together a midnight snack for the ladies. By eleven forty-five, all but Prudy and Cornelia were assembled at the large kitchen table to eat the cold cuts, cheese, and bread Lottie had prepared.

Fanny tugged at the sash on her robe. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving. Ravenous, in fact.”

“Don’t you think Mrs. Parker will find out we’ve done this?” Sharla asked.

“Not if we clean up after ourselves.”

“She’s going to notice the missing food.” Cherry reached for a couple of slices of bread and began to load them with ham and cheese.

“Nope.” Lottie reached for the fork to jab a piece of ham. “Gil picked up the food in town this afternoon on the sly.” She didn’t tell them what a sacrifice it had been for him to come up with the extra money. For now, they would simply enjoy the feast set before them. “I’m only sorry you ladies have to eat so late at night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” With the wave of a hand, Fanny dismissed her concerns. “I’ve been a member of dozens of midnight supper clubs over the years.”

“Me too,” Patricia said.

“And me.” Grace took a tiny sliver of meat and the smallest slice of cheese.

“Midnight supper club?” Lottie glanced at the ladies, confused by the expression. “What’s that?”

Fanny slapped together her sandwich then took a big bite. She spoke around the mouthful of food. “Folks in the theater are accustomed to eating late, Lottie.” She swallowed then took a drink from her glass of milk. “Think about it. Most of us are in the theater until eleven at night.”

“Or later,” Flossie said. “By the time we get out of our costumes and makeup, it can be midnight or after.”

“Hence the name midnight supper club.” Fanny took another bite, a contented expression settling over her. “Some of the best restaurants in New York stay open way past the middle of the night.”

“Atlantic City too,” Flossie added.

“I can’t even imagine such a thing,” Lottie said. “Here in Estes Park, our businesses close in the late afternoon or early evening. There’s not a restaurant in town that stays open past nine o’clock. Well, unless you count the saloon. And they don’t serve food.”

“We had the yummiest delicatessen just a block or so from the theater where I performed in my last show.” Cherry sighed. “They had the best pork tenderloin sandwiches in town. So my friends from whatever show I happened to be working on would head over there every night after the curtain closed.” She licked her lips. “I still say midnight suppers are best.” Another bite of her sandwich brought a look of sheer delight to her face.

Grace lifted her sandwich for a bite. “So you see why the late night hours don’t bother us.”

“Food is food, no matter when it’s eaten.” Flossie lopped a dollop of mayonnaise onto her bread.

“Still, I do hope Jeb will agree to act as chef so we don’t have to keep these late hours going,” Lottie said. “You ladies might be used to it, but I’m not.”

“What’s going to happen with Jeb?” Flossie asked. “Do you think he’ll take on the job of chef once the rumors die down?”

“Oh, I think he will.” Fanny offered a suspicious grin. The ladies turned her way and she shrugged. “What? I’m just saying that a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do to get a good meal. And if it means whispering a few sweet nothings in a man’s ear, well, then, so be it.”

“Fanny!” Flossie plopped her bread down on a plate, which clattered against the table. “Tell me you’re not flirting with a man to get food out of him.”

Fanny shrugged. “I’d probably flirt with him anyway. That Jeb is one handsome hunka beef, isn’t he?” She giggled, and before long the women joined her. Well, all but Lottie, who couldn’t get over Fanny calling Jeb a hunk of beef.

“I just hope he doesn’t pay much attention to those Women’s League ladies.” Sharla’s nose wrinkled. “If we have to wait for those biddies to stop gossiping before we can eat a hearty home-cooked meal, we’re going to starve.” She glanced at Patricia and Cherry. “We all know that women like that thrive on gossip.”

Lottie did her best to turn the conversation around. No point in letting it slide into negative chatter about the townspeople. Besides, with their stomachs full and a great evening of rehearsal behind them, the days ahead looked sunnier than ever.

* * * * *

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Lottie met with Gilbert’s mother in the kitchen to broach the subject of the pie parlor. She found Mrs. Parker with a broom in hand, sweeping under the table.

“Strangest thing,” the older woman said. “I found bread crumbs on the floor this morning. And there was a slice of cheese under the table.”

“O–oh?” Lottie reached for the dustpan and held it in place as Mrs. Parker swept the crumbs into it. “Odd.” She didn’t say more. Instead, she took the dustpan to the trash bin and emptied it.

Mrs. Parker put the broom aside and washed her hands at the sink. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that son of mine is getting into my food after hours.”

“Well, he is a growing boy.” Lottie gave her what she hoped would look like a convincing smile as she put the dustpan away.

“Someone talking about me in here?” Gilbert entered the room and reached for a biscuit from the tray.

His mother slapped his hand. “After you got into my food last night, you don’t need any breakfast.”

“W–what?” His mouth dropped open.

Lottie gave him a wide-eyed stare and hoped he would take the hint. “I told her you were a growing boy,” she said.

Mrs. Parker laughed. “Remember when you were fourteen? You used to sneak into the kitchen every night for food.”

Lottie suspected that had little to do with a growth spurt and everything to do with his mother’s poor cooking skills. Still, she didn’t say anything.

“I’ve always enjoyed raiding the pantry.” He kept a straight face as he grabbed a biscuit and took a bite.

“Well, guard yourself,” his mother said. “Remember, we’re feeding a group now. We need to hang onto every bit of food we can.”

He raised his hand—the one with the partially eaten biscuit— as if taking an oath. “Mama, I can promise you I will not return to your kitchen in the middle of the night to steal your food.”

Lottie bit back the laugh that threatened to bubble up. No, indeed, he would not. He wouldn’t dare show up with so many ladies in their robes and slippers.

As she prepared gravy for the biscuits, Mrs. Parker began to hum “ ’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus,” and before long Gilbert was singing along. Lottie would’ve joined them, but her singing skills left something to be desired.

“Mrs. Parker,” she said after the song ended, “I want to mention something to you that one of the ladies suggested.”

Gilbert’s mother turned her way. “What is it, Lottie?”

“The day the ladies arrived, you made a chocolate pie.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Parker smiled. “And I plan to make coconut tonight.”

“Fanny will be delighted. She fell in love with your pie. She’s been singing your praises ever since.”

Mrs. Parker’s cheeks turned the loveliest shade of pink. “Well, isn’t that nice. I’ve often heard that my pies are quite tasty, especially the chocolate and my special coconut recipe. Oh, and my apple. I do believe it’s my favorite. Next to the peach, of course…when peaches are in season.”

Lottie whispered a prayer for God’s help before plowing ahead. “Fanny had a great idea,” she said at last. “She thinks we should start a pie parlor.”

“Pie parlor?” Mrs. Parker’s brow wrinkled. She gave the gravy another stir. “What’s that?”

Lottie shot Gil a frantic look and he nodded, ready to take the conversation from here.

* * * * *

G
ILBERT SWALLOWED
the last of his biscuit and joined the conversation. “It’s a bakery of sorts, Mama. One where you could sell your pies to locals and tourists. Fanny came up with the idea. Parker’s Pie Parlor. Don’t you love it?”

“Well, yes. And I love the idea of spending my days baking, of course. But how can we run a pie parlor and feed all these women at the same time? I’m already swamped with work here at the lodge, not to mention the hours I spend in the kitchen.”

Gilbert made sure the tone of his voice remained positive and upbeat as he shared the plan, one with more than a few ulterior motives. “Ah, well, we’ve been thinking about that too. Because you’re truly the only person we know whose baking skills rise above the others—pun intended—and we feel as if it makes more sense for you to take on that task as the head baker.”

“Well, yes, but what about the meals? They are—”

“Exhausting you,” Gilbert threw in.

“True.” Mrs. Parker sighed.

“Now, hold onto your hat, Mama,” Gilbert said. “You might be surprised when you hear who wants to take over the cooking. Jeb Otis.”

She clasped her hands together. “Merciful heavens, what a brilliant idea. I’ve been after that man for years to help me out in the kitchen.”

“You—you have?” He could hardly believe it.

“Yes. Have you ever tasted his potato salad?”

“Last Saturday, in fact.”

“He’s got a talent, that one. And he knows it. We’ve spoken about it, of course. But to think that he would take the time to prepare meals so that I could bake pies…what a wonderful gesture of kindness on his part.” She snapped her fingers. “I know! The first pie I bake I can give to Jeb as a thank-you for his kindness.”

“Perfect.” Gilbert beamed.

“I do love baking.” She grinned. “And I have often thought how fine it would be to spend more time doing it.” Her grin disappeared. “Though, I must say, it’s hard work. Hope I’m up for it.”

“How would you like to have a helper?” Lottie asked. “Hannah has told us that she loves to bake as well. From what I can gather, she’s quite proficient at it.”

Gilbert didn’t think the joy on his mother’s face could grow any more animated, but she proved him wrong. “I believe we could make that work.”