Creatures of Want and Ruin

by Molly Tanzer

  Ellie let Lester have the last bit of bread, hoping it would give him some strength, but she was still hungry.

  “You might give me at least one biscuit, Ma. After all, in a few days, our money troubles will be over because of me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Got a big job,” said Ellie, pleased to have this in reserve to wake both of them up a bit. “Look in the desk—that’s just half.”

  “Thank God.” Ellie’s mother did not usually swear. Nor did she usually sit down at the kitchen table when there were dishes in the sink. “Ellie . . . oh, and of course you can have a biscuit! Lester, you too.”

  Ellie had only been half-joking, but she didn’t turn down that biscuit, either. As she bit in, savoring the buttery taste, she heard the front door shut. After a moment Ellie’s father entered the kitchen. He did something he hadn’t done in a very long time—he sat down at the table with them.

  Robert motioned for Ellie’s mother to keep her seat when she got up to do the dishes. For her part, Ellie continued to eat. Being out on the bay always gave her an appetite.

  “Reverend Hunter is a good man,” said her father. “I was pleased to welcome him into my home for the first time, having spent many a pleasant afternoon in his.”

  Ellie was surprised to hear that her father had spent “many” pleasant afternoons with Hunter; as far as she knew, they’d barely spoken before a few weeks ago.

  “It’s important to repay hospitality, but you might have told us all he was coming, Robert.” Ellie was pleased to see her mother get a bit of her energy back.

  “I told him to come any night he liked.”

  “Well, I might have cooked a better supper, is all. And tided up a bit more.”

  “Joseph is a discerning fellow, but not judgmental. I value his opinions greatly.”

  “What’s so great about them?” said Ellie.

  She looked down at her stew at her father’s murderous glare. “He has thought long about the problems facing our community, and come up with good answers to hard questions. And I’ve asked his thoughts on the problems facing our family, too.”

  Ellie paused, a bite of stew halfway to her mouth. Problems, as in financial problems? Surely her father wouldn’t speak to a near-stranger about that . . .

  “We are in disarray. I blame myself. I cannot control what happened to me,” he said, “but I can control how I act from here on out. I lost my way, after my injury—I see that now. I came home, but I didn’t return. I apologize for that. I’ve been the wind, when I ought to have been the bedrock of this family. But it’s not too late for me—for us.”

  Uncomfortable, Ellie shifted in her seat. Her father had never been one for rhetoric; she felt as if Hunter was still in the room with them. She caught herself looking to see if her father’s eyes were glowing unnaturally; of course they did not seem to be, and she was furious at herself for checking.

  “Some things I cannot fix,” her father continued, his eyes on Lester. Ellie bristled. He held up his hand. “Some I can. Ellie, I want you to promise me you will stop bootlegging. I do not think it is right for me, as your father, to tolerate lawbreaking, especially lawbreaking that enables the consumption of spirituous liquors, encouraging wantonness in women and shiftlessness in men.” Ellie was starting to regret coming home—if only she hadn’t, she might be engaging in some wantonness instead of eating cold fish stew and getting a lecture. “Better to reduce our standard of living than lower ourselves.” Ellie’s mother did not look convinced, but her father continued, “Were you not ashamed when Joseph asked where Ellie was, and we lied about it?”

  “Does the reverend disapprove more of lying, or drinking, I wonder?” Ellie’s archness was not appreciated. Her father’s face darkened.

  “I will no longer allow criminal activity to take place in this house. You will stop at once.”

  “I won’t!”

  “You will.”

  “Like hell!” Ellie snorted. “What church does this reverend even preach at? Because an Episcopal priest is one of my best customers, and he doesn’t have any problem at all with pulling a cork.”

  “Hunter is currently raising funds to build a church,” said her father, not actually answering her question.

  Ellie’s reason triumphed over her defiance. “Pop, I was just telling Ma, and Lester . . . I’ll have all the money we need soon, to send Lester to school.” Ellie kept talking, even if her father’s frown deepened. “Some bigshot over on Ocean Avenue’s offered me so much, and for just one job . . . I’ve agreed to it. He gave me half up front.” She appealed to his sense of honor. “I can’t go back on my word, not now that I’ve taken his money.”

  Her father glanced to where Lester sat, silently and so very still.

  “Well . . . it must be the last time, then,” he said at last.

  Ellie nodded in agreement. She could do what she liked soon enough. Once she’d moved out, he wouldn’t know what she was up to, or where, or when, or with whom—and even if he found out, he’d have no say in the matter.

  “Good,” he said. “This is only a first step, but it is a good one. The reverend was right—control is necessary for order. Rules and limitations help men thrive, just like the healthiest fields are the tended ones.”

  Ellie wondered if Hunter had farmed a day in his life. She knew her father hadn’t—back before the war he’d worked on a trawler and before that he’d crewed a whaling ship, just like Ellie’s grandfather.

  “Well, I suppose I’d better get started on these dishes if I’m to get to bed tonight at a decent hour,” said Ellie’s mother.

  “I can help,” said Lester.

  Ellie handed over the plates and stayed to put away the dry ones. Soon enough, the work was done, and they were all off to bed. Presumably her father was already there; she didn’t check. She had nothing to say to him. She was appalled by his behavior, especially discussing private matters with a stranger.

  Their family wasn’t so bad. They minded their own business, at least.

  Exhausted, Ellie sat down on her bed in the small room that had been hers since she was a girl. The little pink flowers on the wallpaper seemed at odds with the coveralls that lay in a lump where she’d hastily tossed them, damp and crusted with salt. She’d outgrown this room, but she also couldn’t seem to leave it.

  She sighed, and went to pick up her coveralls, hanging them up so they’d have a better chance of actually drying by the morning. But that was her only concession to responsibility. Though she knew she ought to take a proper bath, go check on Lester, or barring any of that, go to sleep and get some rest, instead she slithered between her cool sheets and grabbed A Few Figs from Thistles from her nightstand. She’d be tired tomorrow, but the humor of Edna St. Vincent Millay would be a well-deserved bit of escape tonight.

  6

  The afternoon’s shadows were lengthening, but the heavy air was still very hot and very humid as Fin and Jimmy made their way over their damp green lawn to the dock, where they would meet this bootlegger that Oscar had recruited on their behalf. He looked strange as he slouched on the docks, hands shoved in the pockets of his coveralls; as Fin approached, she realized it was because the person was not a man at all but a woman of about her own age, with bobbed hair tucked behind her ears, and the sleeves of her men’s button-up cambric shirt rolled up above her tanned forearms.

  That wasn’t so very shocking . . . The women on Long Island often did men’s work, especially Polish or German women. What was shocking was her fading black eye, and the shadow of a bad bruise on her neck, too.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Coulthead?” Fin didn’t think she’d ever get used to the way Long Islanders abused their vowels. “I have your package.”

  “Excellent.” Jimmy was like a kid at Christmas. He was rubbing his hands together and smiling broadly. “Oscar says your stuff is pretty damn good.”

  “It is good. But I have to tell you, I only could get thirteen cases together. Thirteen and a half.” The w
oman nodded back to her little boat. “But, some of it’s actually been, you know. Aged in wood.”

  “Delightful,” Fin said. She was fascinated by this woman, with her brusque, direct speech. “Thirteen cases will do just fine.”

  “Thirteen and a half.”

  Jimmy was peering at the woman. “Didn’t expect a girl to drop it off.”

  “Drop it off? I’m Oscar’s contact.”

  “Gee whiz!”

  “Didn’t he tell you to expect me?”

  “He told us to expect the delivery.”

  “Well, here it is.”

  The woman’s expression was unreadable; she still slouched as if this was all nothing to her, but Fin got a sense she was actually holding herself very still out of nerves.

  “Hell of a lot of liquor,” said the woman conversationally. “Oscar told me you were having some kind of big party?”

  “Just getting acquainted with our neighbors,” said Jimmy. “We’re new to the area.”

  “It’s a nice one,” she said. “Lived here my whole life, and I wouldn’t leave it for a fortune.”

  “High praise indeed,” said Fin. “But not undeserved. I’ve done enough exploring to know there’s so much here to appreciate.”

  The woman nodded, and her loose hair fell all in her face. She wasn’t bad-looking, just tanned and boyish. There was something wild about her, feral and delicious and intriguing and real—something governesses and finishing school hadn’t buffed away.

  At the thought of finishing school, Fin remembered her manners. “How silly of me,” she said. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Delphine Coulthead, but you can just call me Fin. All my friends do.”

  The girl’s eyebrows went up at the word friends, but she replied, “I’m . . . Ellie.”

  She offered no last name, so Fin replied, “Very nice to meet you, Ellie.”

  “I’m Jimmy.” He turned, and Fin winced as he hollered up at a servant who had been hovering in a doorway, “Hey! Go get someone to help us here!”

  “I can get it all,” offered Ellie.

  “No need, no need. We’ll have some guys down here in a jiffy.”

  “Would you like an iced tea? Or something stronger?” Ellie hesitated, but Fin urged her again. “It’s so hot. Why not sit down and cool off a bit before you run home?”

  Two men had appeared behind Jimmy. Ellie wouldn’t let them onto her boat, but after she’d handed over the crates she agreed to relax for a bit.

  “Just tea for me,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “Jimmy, will you be a dear and let the servants know we’ll be in the gazebo?” said Fin. Jimmy looked surprised to be dismissed, but he shrugged it off.

  “You girls have fun,” he said.

  “I’ll be in for dinner,” said Fin.

  “Sure.” Jimmy hesitated just long enough to make matters awkward before taking out his wallet and handing some money to Ellie.

  “This is too much,” she said, after counting it right there in front of them. “I didn’t deliver what you asked for.” She peeled off a few bills and held them out in an attempt to give them back.

  “The age on some of the bottles more than makes up for the decrease in volume,” said Fin quickly, as she saw Jimmy’s hand twitch uncertainly.

  “No,” said Ellie, shaking her head. “It’s not fair. We had an agreement.”

  “Consider it a tip, then,” said Fin. It was an inconsequential amount of money to them, but who knew what use someone like Ellie might find for it. “You got us so much on such short notice. I’m sure you had to hustle.”

  “Yeah,” said Jimmy. “Keep it.”

  Ellie was blushing furiously, her expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment as she shoved it all in her pocket. Fin wasn’t sure why the woman would be upset, so she tried to smooth things over by pretending she didn’t notice.

  “Jimmy, do have someone send down that pitcher? We’re parched.”

  “Right,” he said, and took off.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” said Fin conspiratorially, but this did not cheer Ellie up. The girl still looked sullen and resentful as they walked, so to break the tension Fin said, “So, you’re the shadowy entrepreneur Oscar was so excited about! I must admit you’re not what I expected.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve met Oscar, and while he seems like a decent mechanic, I hadn’t any real desire to meet his friends. Turns out I was wrong.”

  “You throw that word around a lot.”

  “What word?”

  “‘Friend.’ He’s not my friend.” Fin heard and neither are you as clearly as if Ellie had said it aloud.

  “Oh!”

  “He’s not so bad, but he’s also not so great.” They’d reached the gazebo. Fin selected a lounge; Ellie a teak chair with a white cushion that glowed lavender in the early twilight. “So there it is.”

  Fin was grateful when the pitcher of tea arrived; it was something to talk about, at least. The ice was already melting in the glasses from the heat. Fin poured for both of them.

  “So,” Ellie said, after taking a polite sip, “what are these parties like?”

  Fin felt exhausted just thinking about it. “About what you would expect. People will drink, and talk about the news, and about each other. Someone will kiss someone they’re not married to; someone else will get thrown in a pool, and be a good or a poor sport about it, depending. People will wander off into the woods, likely, for obvious but clandestine purposes.” Fin sighed. “Honestly, these sorts of parties are really about everyone acting like they’re having a good time whether or not they really are.”

  “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

  Sometimes Fin forgot that some people spoke plainly and directly. She tried to return the favor. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Whose was it?”

  Actually, plain speech was a drag. “Let’s say it was my husband’s.”

  “He didn’t ask your opinion?”

  “I don’t mind him throwing a party, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied, a statement that was both untrue and absolutely not an answer to Ellie’s question.

  “Do you have to go?”

  “To the party? Well, it’s here, isn’t it? In my house. It would look pretty strange if I didn’t at least put in an appearance.” It occurred to Fin that wasn’t really the case, given that people were more confused when she did show up at parties. Probably she could go to Rocky’s reading—slip away from the party and not be missed . . .

  “How dressed up do people get?”

  “There’s always a range. Some people come in sportswear; others, as fancied up as you’d get for dinner in the city.” Fin shrugged. “Depends on who you’re trying to impress.”

  “So what will you wear?”

  “You know, the party’s tomorrow and I hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought. What does that say about me, I wonder?”

  Ellie sipped her tea silently, her eyes on her boat in the distance.

  “Maybe,” said Fin, “I should just appear mid-party, naked, and run through the house like Lady Godiva.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone would object.”

  Fin chuckled. “That’s kind of you to say. Perhaps I should consider it . . . I suppose a party like this would be the place for it. I could scarcely have disrobed at one of our charity balls.”

  Ellie glanced back at Fin. “A charity . . . ball?”

  “Oh, yes!” Fin got a bit excited about this change of topic. “Back at home in Philadelphia I used to put on several balls during the year. People would have to buy tickets, and a portion of it would go to some cause or other. Often we’d also have a donation bowl, or an auction or raffle to raise additional funds. The recent one for unwed mothers was a particular success, and last spring we managed to raise enough to replace the orphanage’s roof after they had a fire, and the Christmas before that we had a grand gala to benefit the Families of Crippled Veterans.”


  Ellie didn’t sound impressed—in fact, she sounded annoyed when she said, “You put on fancy parties as a way to help people in need?”

  “Well . . . yes,” said Fin uncertainly.

  “How do those mothers and orphans and veterans feel about being treated as an excuse for people to eat caviar and drink champagne?” She snorted derisively. “So at those sorts of parties do you people still kiss and ruin your fancy clothes in the pool, or do you have some sort of speaker to tell you how terrible it is to be the family of a crippled veteran?”

  Fin was silent, too shocked to speak. She’d never thought about it that way; she’d always just assumed that to the beneficiaries of her efforts, money was money. She hadn’t thought pride would come into it. In fact, she’d told herself exactly that when Jimmy’s interest in her became apparent, after he’d spied her across the courtroom when she’d been brought before the venerable Judge Glasser, along with several other women, on charges of “disseminating information on contraception unrelated to disease.” The judge had let them all go after they’d promised to stop, a mandate Fin had planned to disobey. But after Jimmy began to pursue her in earnest, and the more she had thought on it, the more Fin had liked the idea of trying some new way of making a difference. She’d been angered to find that the birth control movement had many of the same problems as suffrage—racial prejudice being the most offensive to her mind—and she’d naively hoped that Jimmy’s world of politicians and lawyers would be an ideal place to make a fresh start; do some real good. It genuinely hadn’t occurred to her that someone like Ellie would find her desire to do so repugnant.

  “Usually we do book a speaker or two,” she said, recovering her wits a bit, “but there’s a fair bit of nonsense that goes on, too, to be honest. You can’t put those people together without tempting fate.”