"Nothing's been decided yet. Though the mayor was reported to say, when the question was brought up, High enough so we don't have to put our bathrooms on the third floor or suffer the indignity of our crapper devices spouting geysers at high tide!" Sterling chuckled.
Elizabeth silenced Sterling with a reproving look.
Everyone complained about the inadequate sewer system. The sewer pipes laid into Elliott Bay to flush sewage out into the Sound were not extended far enough, or laid high enough above the incoming tide. Every day the outgoing tide washed Seattle's waste out to sea and every day the incoming tide washed Tacoma's waste right into Seattle, backing up the sewer pipes and erupting out of Seattle's toilets.
“Of course the water system must be improved," Sterling said. "If we'd had proper water pressure, we wouldn't have lost the city."
Fayth's mind was already at work on how to get back into business.
Elizabeth misread her faraway look. "Sterling, you're upsetting Fayth."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to be inconsiderate. But everyone's saying that Seattle will rise like a phoenix from the ashes. And so shall you, I say."
"Who, specifically, is saying that, Sterling?" Fayth asked.
"The entire city, I should imagine. I first heard Captain O'Neill give voice to it."
Fayth's heart beat in an odd rhythm. Captain O'Neill. Why did everything come back to him? Especially when she was trying to forget him.
"Sterling, I believe you're right. We will be like the phoenix. And I intend to start the transformation." Fayth set her cup down. All that pretty fabric might be of some use after all. She had vowed to come out of mourning and get rid of her drab clothes. If she was going to be destitute, she may as well do it with style.
Elizabeth smiled at her. "Good! You’ll brighten everyone’s spirits when we begin helping out at the relief tents tomorrow."
Fayth worked less than a full morning beside Elizabeth before being dispatched from the Armory to help the people from Tacoma in their relief tent at the corner of Third and University. All morning she served endless loaves of bread and plates of donated foods to hungry, flirtatious men under the watchful eye of the former Occidental Hotel steward, Thomas Moore, who, she was certain, intended to operate the tent like the fancy restaurant she had frequented so often. She worked in the stifling heat until the underarms of her gray work shift were ringed with perspiration and her arms leaden.
She wondered briefly about Coral. Lou Gramm's parlor house had burned to the ground, too, but she doubted Lou would let that stop business for long. Seattle's men may have lost their homes, sources of income, and places of occupation, but they had not lost their appetite for women. There were rumors that tents of prostitution were already being set up in the Tenderloin to service the restless men. And she worried about Olive, asking after her of any man that had been in the area of the fire that day. No one had seen a stray cat.
The Tacomans were cheerful and neighborly in their generosity toward their rival, now disaster-plagued, city. Despite their charity and good-natured attitude, Fayth didn't feel completely comfortable among the badged volunteers. She wondered to herself all day at how they had managed so quickly to secure the large white badges they wore that read "Tacoma Relief." She would have preferred to continue on at the Armory, surrounded by her sisters in disaster and empathy, but at the end of the day, when Sterling came to pick her up, they pleaded with her to come back the next, early in the morning to help take down cots and set up tables for breakfast. Fayth demurred, giving them a noncommittal answer as Sterling escorted her to the door.
"You'll have to go back tomorrow. I'm afraid Elizabeth won't let you get by with less."
"Not if I'm needed at the Armory." As Sterling helped her up into the buggy seat, her attention was caught by a small girl. The tiny thing, who couldn't have been more than two, played in the shade of the tent next to her mother. She wore a smock stained with ashes and smoke, ripped at the hem. Her mother looked tired, defeated. Fayth's heart went out to them. They must have been left homeless, too. But they had nowhere to turn, save the tent that the Tacomans were erecting to house homeless women. Last night they hadn't even had that.
While there had been a flurry to erect shelter for the men, somehow the women had been forgotten. Fayth shuddered in the heat. At least she had only herself to provide for; what must it be like for that mother? A woman who must be close to Fayth's age? Sterling urged the horses on. The little girl disappeared from view.
Fayth stared straight ahead. Seattle was nothing more than a black and white photograph, she thought. Except for the taunting blue sky overhead, the city was colorless. Fayth squinted against the sun. "Not when I'm through," she whispered.
Con sat at his desk and watched Tetch leave his office. The poor son of a bitch was convincingly shaken. Con should have fired him, but he owed Tetch's father too great a debt. However, it didn't excuse Tetch's lack of responsibility, or lessen Con's losses. Con had put him in charge of the cash box. Stolen!
Con thumped back in his chair remembering their conversation.
"Stolen?" he'd asked.
"Evidently someone took it in the mayhem when we docked, sir. There were people everywhere; security was nonexistent," Tetch replied unevenly. "I've already notified the police."
Con's expression narrowed. "Lot of help they'll be. They're up to their asses in looters."
"Yes, sir."
"You scoured the hold?"
"Yes, sir. Not one coin left behind."
"No one saw anything?"
"No, sir."
"How much did we lose, best guess?" Con was so angry he could barely speak.
"May's receipts."
"A month's worth of receipts!"
"We never bank until the tenth."
The urge to physically punish Tetch for his stupidity was almost insuppressible. Why hadn't the fool secured the cash in the safe in Con's quarters rather than stowing the box in the hold?
"Keep me apprised of any news." Con dismissed him before he gave in to temptation and threw him out of the office bodily. Part of this was his own fault for trusting Tetch and his sticky fingers. But even Con couldn't imagine Tetch would boldly steal an entire month of receipts and expect to get away with it.
Con came back to the present. What was he going to do now?
Fayth walked into the dining room the next morning dressed in a deceptively simple, pink silk gown, so new the seams had barely cooled from the touch of the iron. Her hair was brushed up and back in a regal pompadour with soft wisps curling around her face. She carried a small twine wrapped package under her arm. Mrs. Beard, Elizabeth's housekeeper, did a double take when she saw her.
Miss Sheridan, you look a vision. Your gown, it's . . . wonderful."
"Thank you. I designed it years ago, but just finished it last night. Elizabeth's left for the Armory?"
"Half an hour ago. May I fix you some breakfast?"
"No, thank you. I'm in a hurry. I'm afraid I fell asleep early this morning. I hadn't meant to. I must be getting older. I used to stay up sewing all night and not feel the worse for wear the next day."
"It's the recent strain, Miss Sheridan. Go easy on yourself."
"Is Sterling here? I need to get to the relief tent."
"Mr. Kelley is upstairs. He should be down directly. Shall I let him know that you need a ride?"
"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Beard. You're a gem."
By the time Fayth arrived at the tent, all the cots had been collected and tables installed in their places. Her heart raced as she scanned the eating masses until she found the little face she sought. She approached the toddler and her mother cautiously, with a friendly smile.
"I have something for your little girl. May I give it to her?" Fayth asked the mother.
"We don't accept charity." Though Fayth did not lift an eyebrow at her ridiculous statement, the mother blushed. "I mean, any further than we have to. I have to feed my child."
"I'm not condemning you.
What hypocrisy that would be! I'm living off the charity of relatives right now myself."
The woman eyed her new dress suspiciously.
"I lost everything in the fire, the same as you, I suppose."
The woman didn't reply.
"I'm a seamstress."
"Huh, that I can see." The woman pulled her child to her.
Fayth ignored the insult. "I've made something for your little girl."
She leaned down close to the woman and the girl. "A friend of mine told me, just after the fire, as the city still smoldered, that Seattle would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I believe him. I believe we will. But in the meantime, it struck me, there's no color in this city. So I made a vow. I would create some. Wouldn't you like your daughter to be part of that, part of the revival?" She held the package out to the woman who took it cautiously.
Moments later the twine lay on the floor and the little girl was dressed in a bright yellow smock, preening before her mother. The women around them showered the girl with attention. Fayth pulled from her pocket a handful of colored fabric scraps looped with pins and began passing them out.
"Wear your badge with pride, ladies!" she shouted. "We shall start the revival here! Today!"
A cheer resounded.
"We will restore Seattle to a greatness beyond her former glory. When historians of the future look back on this time, they will say, Seattle would certainly have died without the colorful spirit of its women!"
The mood became optimistic. Fayth was surrounded by hands reaching for pins, so occupied she barely caught sight of the slight form of an adolescent boy studying her with intensity from the door of the men's tent. Billy? Her attention was momentarily diverted. When she looked back, he was gone. It must have been someone else.
Had it been folly to use the precious material for something so frivolous when she might have found a rich woman willing to pay to have a dress made? What if the vault of Jacob Finn's bank had melted and all her remaining assets were destroyed? If it had been folly at all, it was a kind of folly that could not be measured against dollars, only against hope.
Billy burst into the shipmaster's quarters, chest heaving and breathless. "I found her, Captain!"
Con finished the entry he was writing in the captain's log before looking up at Billy, even though his heart pounded with excitement. "You're sure?"
Billy gulped for air twice, nodding.
"Where is she?"
"The relief tent them Tacoma folks set up, just like you heard. I almost gave up, had to wait around all morning. She was late showing. Missed the breakfast rush."
"She's not staying there?" If she was living in that forsaken tent, he was going to swoop in and rescue her, against her will if necessary.
"No." Billy hedged, acting as if there was something he didn't want to say.
Damn. Whatever it is isn't going to make me happy.
"No?" Con hoped he could draw it out of Billy without having to command him to tell everything he knew. "You're sure?"
Billy shrugged. "She showed up in a fancy carriage driven by some stuffy looking dandy dudded up in banker's clothes. He helped her down like a gentleman, looking real possessive and protective of her."
Not her banker then, Con thought.
Billy looked too pleased as he relayed the bit about the man. Then again, he would. Billy didn't like Fayth for the simple reason he felt Con deserved a better woman—specifically, the sea. Billy didn't see any reason a man needed more.
A gentleman? Con gripped the pen he was holding so tightly his knuckles turned white. He made a note to find out who the gentleman was. He hoped to hell whoever he was, he was a gentleman and not a scoundrel. Or worse, her new husband. She couldn't have gotten married in just two days, could she? "And?"
"She was all dressed up in a fancy new dress." He paused as if for dramatic effect.
Con waited.
"I could tell it was new. Everyone could. It was this light pink color. Fancy cut, looked society, like it come straight from New York. And her hair was all floofed up."
"Floofed?"
"You know, combed up big and fancy. I don't know what they call it. She walked into the main entrance and straight through the men's tent like a queen. Head high, kind of determined like." Billy shrugged, obviously warming to his role as informant. "You ought to see her now. Every eye in the tent followed her as she walked along. Got her share of catcalls, I tell you. And propositions, too. Dressed up like that she's kind of pretty."
That was some admission coming from Billy, who clearly was threatened by Con's attention to her.
"And how did she respond to all the attention?"
"Ignored it, like a lady should." Billy paused again. "'Course, maybe it was the gentleman she had on her mind."
"Is that all?"
"No. I stayed to see what she was up to, like you said."
"And?"
"She marched into the women's tent and gave a present to a little girl. Then she started making speeches to the women and handing out these bright ribbons, or something. She was talking about revival and Seattle. Something about phoenixes and bright colors."
Con allowed himself a sliver of hope. Fayth was becoming a phoenix, was she? At his suggestion? He opened his mouth to give Billy his next orders.
Billy anticipated him, cutting him off. "Damn, damn, damn! Why do I have to be out spying on girls when I should be here learning how to be a sailor?"
"Because your captain gave you an order."
Billy scanned the open logbook. "You're going back out onto the Sound to conduct another sightseeing trip, aren't you? And I'm going to be landlocked!"
"Yes."
"Hell, when you were my age you weren't stuck on land; you were out getting a reputation as the Con."
Con stood and put his arm around the boy. He wouldn't stand for insubordination from his men, but Billy was still in training. "Look, Bill, after I take this last group of Tacomans on a sightseeing tour, we'll get back to business as usual. I promise to stop neglecting your education."
Billy nodded. "You donating the money from this tour to the relief fund, too?"
The Captain nodded. "Wouldn't be right to profit from another's tragedy. We're called to help those in need."
"Seems like you had tragedy, too. Others are already starting to rebuild their wharves. Heard that Yesler's will be reopening shortly."
"Don't worry, Billy. I'll be going to see Finn about financing right after this last tour."
And I'll be taking care of Miss Sheridan, too, he thought.
Con pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and pressed it into Billy's hand. "For a job well done. Now get out there and back to it."
Men don't realize a woman dresses as much for herself as she does for them.
Fayth struggled to make a perfect bow of the sash on her latest creation and prepared for her third day at the relief tent. She dressed to enhance her new, colorful image. Wearing the bright clothes made her feel alive and vibrant, and was already creating the stir she wanted. A beautiful dress made her feel confident. She needed confidence more today than ever. Yesterday, she had heard rumors that they had uncovered most of the bank vaults and some of the vaults of the larger stores in town. The militia had guarded them all night and was most likely eager to be relieved of that duty. The citizens were all anxiously awaiting their opening. For many, like Fayth, the money they placed in the bank was all they had left. If the banks went under and didn't honor their deposits . . .
Fayth didn't want to think about it. The vault at Jacob Finn's bank had to have held. When they opened it all her money would be there, along with everyone else's. It just had to be.
Her thoughts whirled around the idea of getting her money. Once she was sure she had some capital left she would purchase or rent a tent. The city government had already passed an ordinance allowing businesses to erect temporary tents to conduct business until permanent buildings could be built. As soon as the militia pulled out, Seattle was
set to be a regular tent city. She heard that the lines were already long to get the permit.
She could operate out of a tent, if Elizabeth would allow her to do the actual machine sewing at her house. As soon as things settled down she would make an offer on the piece of property where her shop had been. The owners had been anxious to sell before, she was certain they'd be doubly eager now. Then she would see Jacob Finn about a building loan. That was, if the vault had held and he had any money to loan. Otherwise, she would be forced to accept one of her many marriage proposals. She imagined herself pressured to marry some respectable man Elizabeth turned up.
Her thoughts roamed to strong arms. A kiss. Lapping waters.
With a start she came back to reality, jolted by the realization that it had not been Drew she'd been thinking of. She pulled the sash taut and strode from the room.
Chapter 7
No one was allowed into Seattle's ruins without a permit. Consequently, the eager crowd that gathered to await news from the bank vault openings congregated on the perimeter. Nervous anticipation rippled through the masses. Fayth felt it the moment she stepped forward into the mostly male crowd, hoping to be invisibly lost in the confluence. But the men were all too gentlemanly. They shuffled her to the front, to the edge of the ashes, whispering to her to be their luck.
Con spotted Fayth as she was pushed forward to the stakes and rope that cordoned the crowd back from the burned city. He watched from another street perpendicular to where she stood on the front line. She wore a cornflower blue gown that matched his memory of the color of her eyes, tied with a deep-blue sash swooped up over a bustled back, cut close, showing every curve she owned. She looked like sand struck by lightning. The woman, who a week ago had no luster, now shone like polished glass. Billy had not exaggerated–she was beautiful.
As Coral stood next to her madam Lou Gramm, she spotted Fayth in the crowd. "Look, there's Fayth! Thank goodness! Look, Olive." The cat purred in her arms. "See, there's your mistress. Doesn't she look beautiful? I told you she'd come through just fine. Fayth has as many lives as you do." She snuggled the cat up against her cheek and turned to look at Lou. "Do you think the bank vaults held?"
The Last Honest Seamstress Page 10
