Pearl’s eyes moved around the courtyard assigning random stories to each one of the women she saw. When she finished her sandwich, she gave a little sigh and wiped her fingers on the napkin. She must find out what the chef included in the creamy filling, as she wanted to add it to her recipe box. She ate the second peppery sandwich and then moved onto the cucumber one, which cooled down her palate.
After tasting the lemon tart, she knew she couldn’t eat another bite. She finished her tea and signaled for Mr. Edwards.
“Did you enjoy your repast, Miss?”
“I did. Do I need to sign anything?”
“No ma’am. I just need your room number.”
“Room 5 on the third floor.” Mr. Edwards scribbled on a pad of paper. “Would you like to take the cakes to your room?” he asked, picking up the silver tower.
“If I may.”
Mr. Edwards returned a few minutes later with a small box tied in string. “I put a few extra pimento sandwiches in there for you.” He placed his finger to his lips and smiled.
“Thank you so much,” Pearl said, taking the box and heading back to her room. She would save the small cakes for Zeke, as he had a sweet tooth. Perhaps she could convince him to have tea with her? It wasn’t fun people watching on her own.
She had just turned the corner to the stairs when she spied the object of her thoughts talking to the witch and the canary. The woman in the yellow dress said something and Zeke gave her one of his charming smiles. The woman moved closer, beckoning to Zeke. He leaned down so her lips almost touched his ear. Whatever she whispered, Zeke stood up and laughed. He lifted her hand and kissed it.
The snack sat like a lead ball in her belly, as Pearl recalled the feel of his lips against her hand. She pivoted on her heel before he saw her and walked calmly to the second set of stairs. Her breath was labored as she reached the third floor, the small box swinging from her hand.
She raced to her room and fumbled to insert the key in the lock. Once she was inside, she quickly secured the door, sitting on the bed with the box of cakes beside her. She sniffed to prevent herself from crying, but a single tear fell onto her lap. She wiped it away and looking up, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall.
She ran her hand over her pale blonde hair, and down her skin, pulling it tight so she could see the color underneath. She watched as she released her cheek and a red splotch formed, coloring in her skin.
She was a ghost. There was no reason for any man to want her when there were beautiful women like the witch and the canary around. Looking the watch pinned to her dress, she had about two hours until dinner.
She tossed the box of treats in the wastebasket and laid down on the bed, pulling the blanket over her. She closed her eyes, willing the thought of Zeke kissing the woman’s hand away.
Chapter 6
“Have you ever been in a cooking competition, Miss Bolton?”
“No,” Pearl whispered.
She was seated at a round table back in the dining room with nine other women. Two of the women happened to be the witch and the canary. Turns out they were a mother-daughter duo from Oregon who came specifically for the contest, and not at all what Pearl imagined them to be.
The mother, whom Pearl had dubbed the witch, was Mrs. Betsy Williams and her daughter went by Cecilia, or Sissy for short. Pearl wanted to dislike them at every level, but she couldn’t. Sissy was just around Pearl’s age and had been traveling overseas with an aunt. She recently returned and was ready to settle down.
Pearl knew Sissy would have no problem capturing a man’s attention. Her golden-brown hair hung perfectly around her face. She had light brown eyes with flecks of gold in their depth. Pearl guessed that the color of her lips wasn’t from any rouge. Yes, Pearl wanted to dislike her, but she couldn’t.
They were divine dinner companions. Sissy entertained the table with her tales from overseas. Her mother entertained the table with her excitement over Sissy entering the Denver Dinner contest.
“I’ve won several of the cash prizes, but I’ve not won an oven yet.”
“How exciting,” one of the other women at the table responded. “I’d be happy winning anything.”
“Why have you competed so much, Miss Williams?” Pearl asked the younger woman in the yellow dress.
Sissy hid her hand behind her mouth and giggled. “I haven’t found the one yet.”
“The one?”
Mrs. Williams nodded. She looked over her glasses and smiled, showing all her teeth. Pearl noticed that the rouge had transferred and was sitting like a red blob on the woman’s front tooth. “You know the purpose of these contests is to help women find husbands.”
Pearl shifted in her seat. “I thought it was to showcase our cooking skills and have the opportunity to win a new range.”
Mrs. Williams waved her hand. “Of course. That is part of it. But who do you think is judging these contests? Why, eligible young men, of course.”
Pearl looked over Sissy’s shoulder. She could see Zeke standing in the doorway. He was scanning the room and his eyes landed on their table. He raised his hand in greeting. Pearl was about to raise hers when she realized that Sissy had turned and noticed him as well. Her hand was already raised.
“I do hope that Sissy finds herself a husband here,” Mrs. Williams continued. “Cecilia, turn around.”
Sissy turned in her chair and smiled at the women seated around her. “I think I found someone. I met him today. He’ll be here the entire contest.”
“Well you just need to win, then, Cecilia.” Mrs. Williams said, patting her daughter’s hand. “What a fine-looking man, too.” She looked around at the women at the table. “Sissy has won first place in the past five contests. She would have won the baking competition, but that didn’t go so well.”
“Mama,” Sissy blushed, “you don’t have to tell everyone. We shouldn’t boast.”
“Well, it is true,” she responded, looking around nodding. Soon everyone at the table was nodding as well.
“I heard,” said one of the women leaning over the table. Pearl recalled her name was Martha and she was about twenty years old. “Someone was deliberately playing with the supplies at that contest.”
Pearl’s ears perked up. “What happened?”
Martha sat back in her chair but kept her voice low. “I guess someone wanted to make sure they won the competition and was deliberately mixing salt and sugar together.”
Several ladies at the table gave a little gasp.
“No!” cried one contestant.
“That is terrible,” said another.
“I was there when it happened,” Sissy said. “I certainly hope it doesn’t happen here.”
“What did the flour company do?” Pearl inquired. She remembered Zeke mentioning that the Pinkertons were hired just to make sure that everything ran smoothly. This explained why they were worried about it.
“They cancelled the contest at that location. No one was refunded. Cost a full ten cents to enter.” Mrs. Williams sniffed in her handkerchief.
“Do you have a plan for this contest?” Pearl asked innocently, adding a bit of sugar to her coffee. She took a sip from her cup and looked around at the women seated at the table.
“I think her plan is to walk away with that grand prize and a new husband,” Martha said. Everyone laughed except Pearl. She gave a half smile and pretended to look at the picture on the wall.
“Your attention, please,” a man called from the front of the room. “We are going to be serving dinner shortly. In the meantime, I wanted to let you know how happy we are that you are here, and present you with the opportunity to be the first to view the brand new 1873 edition of the Chattanooga stove.”
Two men walked over to an object that was hidden under a cloth. Pearl hadn’t noticed it. The men each took a corner and whipped the cover from the object, revealing the bright white enamel and cast-iron stove contained underneath.
Pearl gasped. It was the most beautiful t
hing she had ever seen. Bright white with iron handles, the stove was brighter than a new penny. Pearl watched as the man demonstrated all the features of the new stove. There were six large burners; why her stove at the Pinkerton office only had three!
There was an oven below the burners and even a proofing tray above. It would be so nice to be able to proof her dough in a proper tray instead of using a Dutch oven.
“It comes in both gas models and wood burning models.” Murmurs of appreciation went through the crowd.
“I would love a gas model,” Sissy said. “What about you, Miss Bolton? What would you like?”
“I would love the wood burning model.” Pearl thought there was nothing like cooking on a wood burning stove. Yes, it could be a bit difficult to regulate the temperature, but once you knew what you were doing it was easy as pie.
Martha laughed. “Do you have a beau, Miss Bolton?”
Pearl’s eyes dashed around the room, locking with Zeke who was still looking at her table. “No,” she replied softly. “No, I don’t.”
“That is just because you need a bit of color,” Mrs. Williams offered. She nudged her daughter with her elbow. “Doesn’t she, Sissy.”
Sissy nodded. “Yes, Momma. You would be so pretty, Miss Bolton with just a bit of color on your skin.”
Pearl shifted in her chair. She had people notice her paleness. Even stare at her until they had their fill, but she had never had someone just blurt out how white her skin was.
“Perhaps we can help you for the first-round ceremony on Friday night? Wouldn’t that be fun?” Mrs. Williams said. “You can be mine and Sissy’s special project.”
“Honestly, ma’am, I’m quite alright.”
“Nonsense. It would be our pleasure. I have my lady maid with us. She is a master at cosmetics and hairstyles.”
Before Pearl could respond, a plate was set in front of her. Slices of tender chicken were surrounded by roasted carrots and green beans. A basket of bread was set off to the side.
Pearl dove into her chicken. She couldn’t talk if her mouth was full. The conversation around the table was low as people ate their dinners. Pearl had just placed a slice of carrot in her mouth when she realized Sissy had been talking to her.
She chewed quickly and swallowed. “I apologize, I missed what you said.”
“I asked what you thought of that handsome man over there by the door.” Sissy glanced over her shoulder and used her head to point towards the door.
Pearl looked and saw Zeke talking to the man who made the announcements earlier. “I think he owns the stove company,” Pearl replied, shoving a bean in her mouth.
Sissy laughed. “No silly. The dark and mysterious man next to him.” Pearl continued to chew so she wouldn’t have to respond. “Don’t you think he is handsome?” Pearl shrugged and stabbed another carrot. “Well, I think he is,” Sissy responded to no one in particular.
Pearl finished her dinner and pushed her chair back. “If you’ll excuse me. I would like to go see the stove.”
She made a point of walking past Zeke towards the stove. She didn’t have to pretend she was interested in it; she had been dreaming of owning her own Chattanooga stove for years. She lifted the burners. They were heavy and cool in her hand.
The enamel was slick to the touch and she traced her fingers around the embossed lettering exclaiming the company. What she was most interested in however, was the proof box. She lowered the door and ran her hand inside the box, feeling the cool interior.
“Don’t want to do that when it is hot,” a voice said beside her. Pearl jumped, releasing the door and causing it to clang against the lower portion of the stove.
“Oh, my goodness. Mr. Warner! I am so sorry,” she exclaimed. “You just scared me.” She lifted the box and put it back in place. A small nick appeared in the enamel. “Oh, look what I did.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is just a display model. We will sell it once the contest is over.”
“How much does this cost, if I don’t win it?”
“This little baby is a bargain at twenty-six dollars.”
Pearl nearly dropped the door again. “Oh my.” It would take her nearly a year of her salary to be able to purchase a new stove. Unfortunately, her salary went to other things… more important things.
“But you can have it for twenty at the end of the competition.”
“I think I’ll take my chances and win it.”
“You look like you know how to cook, and I like your gumption, Miss…?”
“Bolton.”
“Miss Bolton. If you don’t win on Sunday, come see me and I will let you have this stove for eighteen dollars.” He stepped to the side. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
Pearl quickly headed back to her seat. Zeke was staring at her with such an intense stare she looked over her shoulder to see who might be behind her. Not seeing anyone she walked past him and gave him a little smile.
Several other ladies left the table to look at the stove. When they returned, each chatted happily about the plans if they would win. It didn’t matter to Pearl. She knew she would win. Pearl could have the stove and the prize money and perhaps Sissy could have the husband she wanted. It would be a grand day for everyone.
Dessert was served. It was more of those small iced cakes that Pearl had at lunch. Since she threw the box away, she might as well enjoy one now. She picked up one of the cakes drenched in white icing. A small yellow flower sat on top. It was the exact color of Sissy’s dress. She put the cake in her mouth in one large bite and chewed happily, imagining she was chewing her competition away. As she swallowed the last bite, she heard Mr. Warner call for attention once more.
“There are twenty cooks in the competition. We have ten stoves, so we will divide everyone into two groups of ten. Saturday night we will announce the top ten finalist who will compete on Sunday for the chance to win the grand prize and other prizes from our very generous sponsors.” Everyone in the restaurant clapped. “I want to take this moment to introduce you to our generous sponsors.”
Pearl tuned out as Mr. Warner ran through the list of companies and individuals that had donated to the competition. The round of applause that followed brought her out of her musings. She realized that Sissy wasn’t at the table. Her mother was listening intently to the presentation. Pearl looked around the room to see if she could find the missing young woman.
She stole a glance at the door and Zeke wasn’t standing there anymore. Lifting herself up slightly in the seat she looked around the room. Remembering what the server said earlier, about areas hidden behind the big plants, she started looking to see if she could spy either Zeke or Sissy.
She didn’t see them, so she sat back down. A flicker of fabric caught her attention and she finally spied them in the corner. Sissy had her hand on Zeke’s arm, and he had leaned down towards the pretty brunette.
It appeared no one else had noticed them. Pearl didn’t understand where this fit was coming from. She wanted to run over there, and demand Sissy Williams remove her hands from her Pinkerton Agent. But he wasn’t hers. No matter how much she wished, Zeke was better suited for a woman like Sissy.
So Pearl did the only thing she could think of. She reached for another cake with a yellow flower and popped it in her mouth, chewing forcefully while she concentrated on the words from Mr. Warner.
Sissy didn’t reappear at the table. When Mr. Warner was done speaking, he mentioned that the dining room would be open for anyone that wanted to stay and have cocktails and evening hors d'oeuvres.
Pearl didn’t know what hors d’oeuvres were, but she was ready to return to her room. She excused herself and made the climb back to the third floor. As she rounded the corner, she saw the back of a man walking towards the far staircase. As the man approached the steps going down, he turned slightly, and Pearl gasped.
Thomas!
What was he doing here?
Pearl scurried to her room, thankful that Thomas hadn’t s
pied her. She would need to mention this to Zeke tomorrow morning.
Chapter 7
Zeke hadn’t seen Pearl since the first night. If he didn’t know better, he would think she had been avoiding him. Where he was supposed to be watching the competition and overall security for the contest, instead he found himself trying to avoid the charms of one Miss Cecilia Williams from Oregon.
It didn’t matter where he went, she, or her mother, managed to find him. He was running out of places to hide. He stopped by Pearl’s room that morning to see if she was available for breakfast, but she had already headed to the dining room. She was surrounded by people, so he didn’t want to intrude.
From a distance she looked beautiful. Her hair was up in a chignon and she had clipped small pearls in her hair. She wore a light purple dress that he hadn’t seen before. There was something bothering her. She had a habit of chewing on her finger when she was worried about something. He remembered seeing the cracked bruised skin when he would escort her to work in the morning. Her finger had just started healing and now she was chewing on it again.
She left the dining room with one of the other contestants, so he didn’t get a chance to talk to her then either. The contestants spent the day going to the various markets and getting supplies for their dishes. Each contestant was given a choice of a beef or chicken dish they needed to prepare, plus two side dishes and a dessert.
He wondered if Pearl was going to make her Captain’s chicken. He had come to adore the spicy, fruity dish, as much as he adored the cook that prepared it.
He wanted to make sure that she was alright. He knew she wasn’t a fan of being in crowds of people, but she appeared to be holding her own. So, he left it alone and went back to his rounds in the competition area.
The ballroom of the hotel had been turned into a large kitchen. Ten stoves lined the walls. These were the gas models of the stoves. He knew that the contestants would be allowed to use the stove prior to the competition to get an understanding for how it worked.
An Agent for Pearl Page 5
