“Who is?”
“Who?” Miss Hope said. “Oh. My sister, Nellie. She plays jokes on me sometimes. Sibling rivalry. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it.”
Mr. Gordon chuckled. “Maybe there was a miscommunication,” he said. “Anyway, I decided not to receive that message, if you see what I mean. I came out here ready to put a red tag on this door because you had missed the appointment.”
“Mr. Gordon,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, “what is it with you people? Why do you all want to shut us down before we even open? Don’t you want us to operate a swank hotel that will bring more revenue into the county?”
He shrugged off her hand. “I’m afraid you can’t have a hospitality business without the proper license.”
“But we’ve applied for the license, and the county won’t grant it. They say our electrical wiring doesn’t meet the safety code. Which is ridiculous.”
“Well, there you have it,” Craig Gordon said. “I don’t make the rules.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Miss Hope said. “How can our wiring be unsafe? We don’t use electricity, so we don’t even have wiring.”
“I don’t make the rules,” he repeated. “My job is to make sure you’re in accordance with the health laws for operating a hotel such as the one you plan to open. That’s why I’m here today. So let’s go look at that bathing facility, shall we?”
As they walked across the driveway, Miss Hope told him, “This is the day we clean the baths. So they won’t be full. But you can see them, and you’ll see we keep them clean.”
Mr. Gordon said, “I expect so. To be quite frank, this place does not smell all that clean, but then I suppose I associate the sulfur smell with sewers. No offense intended.”
“None taken.”
They walked up the steps of the art deco outbuilding and looked inside. It was dark in the shade of the building, but Craig Gordon could see at a glance more than he wanted to see. Two young people, a man and a woman—woman, not hardly, she was just a teenager, eighteen maybe, no older than Craig’s own daughter—looked up from their labor, down on all fours they were, scrub brushes in hand, and said Hi with bright smiles. The man was down inside one of the long troughs, but the young girl, a pretty thing, was right out there in front of the health inspector, scrubbing the tiles and smiling up at him as if there were nothing at all unusual going on.
He spun on his heel and walked out of the bath house and down the steps. He waited until Miss Hope joined him, and then he said, “Those two people are stark naked. Naked.”
“So I noticed. Your point?”
“I’ll be frank with you, Miss Hope. In my church, we don’t allow mixed bathing, even wearing bathing suits. That’s neither here nor there. I’m not here to enforce the rules of my church, but the health laws of the county and the state. But I will not spend time in the company of nakedness. I will not. I want you to get those two out of there or tell them to put some clothes on before I continue.”
“Sure,” she said. She walked back up the steps, and in short order the two young people came out and skulked off, wearing yellow clothes. “All clear,” Miss Hope announced.
“Thank you.” His mind was still carrying the image of that tender young child’s swaying breasts as she wielded a scrub brush. Not a pleasant sight at all, the poor thing. These people.
Back up the steps again and into the bathing facility. Five large, long tanks. Everything tiled, all of it apparently clean. Steps okay. Woven canvas mats for walking between the tanks, to prevent slippage, very good. Now then. “How deep are these tanks?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Three feet? Four?”
Mr. Gordon pulled a tape measure from his pocket and drew out the tape. He measured the side of one of the tanks and said, “Forty-two inches. That’s three and a half feet. So these are swimming pools.”
“No, they’re baths.”
“No, they’re swimming pools. Any bathing facility deeper than three feet is classified as a swimming pool.”
“Okay.”
“Which means they must have a proper chlorination system.”
“But this is running water,” Miss Hope said. “It comes into that bath over there and flows from bath to bath until it leaves through this drain here.”
“What does that have to do with it?” Mr. Gordon said. “These are still swimming pools, and they need to be chlorinated. How do you chlorinate them, Miss Hope? Obviously not with a filter system that uses electricity. And if you put chlorine in the water manually, what’s to keep it from flowing out, as you say?”
They walked out of the bathing facility and across the driveway to the county health department car. Miss Hope said, “What does this mean? What are you going to report?”
Mr. Gordon smiled. He handed her a business card and said, “When you work out a chlorination system for your swimming pools, call me and I’ll come out to inspect it and authorize their use. Until then, you won’t be issued a permit allowing you to open that bathing facility to the public. You have a bug on your sleeve.”
Miss Hope brushed the bug away, and it flew back and landed on Craig Gordon’s car. He took a close look at it and asked, “What kind of a bug is that, Miss Hope?”
“I have no idea,” she answered. “Yellow.”
“I wonder if it’s poisonous.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and captured the bug. “I’ll have it checked out for you,” he said, smiling. “To make sure it doesn’t pose a health hazard.”
“Thank you. You’re so kind.”
“Goodbye, then. Call me when you have your chlorination system ready for inspection.”
“Before you go, Mr. Gordon, I think I should say a couple of words on behalf of my sister.”
“Your sister? The joker? With the colorful language.”
“That’s right.”
“Yes?”
“Up yours.” She turned and walked up the steps to the front door of the hotel.
Craig Gordon got into his car and put the wadded handkerchief inside his briefcase. He started the engine. He felt great. Just fine. Mission accomplished.
Good Lord, that young lady in the bath house had such pretty breasts!
Disgusting.
———
Late that afternoon, Casey sat on the smoking bridge bench, wishing he hadn’t given up smoking, and wishing even more that he wasn’t entirely out of marijuana, because if he’d had some left he would have postponed the cut-off date. But he was out of dope, and too proud to ask Karen, the only person within walking distance with a stash, for a loan.
He listened to the gurgling stream and watched the yellow beetles flit before his eyes. It wasn’t easy giving up a bad habit. Bad habits don’t seem so bad when you’re in the process of giving them up. Casey had been through this before.
“Hey, Casey.”
The voice jerked him out of his self-pity. He looked up the path and saw Arthur approaching, a frown on his face. Arthur, the sourpuss mechanic, for whom the world was an insolvable puzzle endurable only because it was too boring to solve in the first place. Dr. Downer.
Arthur plopped on the bench beside Casey and sighed. Arthur began every conversation with a sigh. “Figured I’d find you down here on your day off. This is your day-off office, huh?”
“Guess so,” Casey admitted.
Arthur sighed again. “Casey, I wonder if you’d give me some fatherly advice?”
“Advice? From me? Fatherly? Arthur, how old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Kid, I’m young enough to be your older brother. Do you want to rephrase the question?”
“All’s I know is, you know a lot more about women than I do,” Arthur said. “I don’t know jack shit about women, and I need advice.”
“Nobody knows jack shit about women but women,” Casey said, “and they don’t know jack shit about men, and men don’t know jack shit about men either.”
“I’m asking for a
friend, okay?” Arthur said.
“Yeah. Right.”
“Supposing my friend really, really likes someone, and my friend thinks this person might feel the same way, okay? But maybe not, so it’s a risky situation. Should my friend spill the beans, or just lay in the weeds? Just lay in the weeds, I guess, huh?”
“And we’re talking about a woman here.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Any particular woman?”
Arthur clammed up.
“Come on, Arthur,” Casey said. “Let’s don’t play twenty questions. Who’s the woman? Beatrice, maybe?”
“No, not Beatrice.” Arthur looked at him and grinned. A smile on Arthur’s face was a rare event. “I’m talking about the nicest person you ever met,” he answered. “Kindest, most generous person in the world, not to mention Hope Springs. So. What do you think? Should my friend spill the beans?”
Kindest, most generous person in the world? Arthur has a crush on Diana? What else can go wrong today?
“I’ve always ended up spilling the beans,” Casey said. “And more than half the time I’ve gotten hurt pretty bad. But I think it would hurt worse to hide too long in the weeds. Might as well get the news, good or bad, over with. But what do I know? I’m just a piano player.”
“Spill the beans,” Arthur said, getting up. “I’ll tell my friend. Thanks. Mind if I call you Pops?”
Casey shook his head. “Get out of here.”
———
Casey spent the rest of the afternoon on the smoking bridge, watching the yellow bugs dance in the air, feeling the afternoon sun cool down as it sank below the treetops in the west behind his back, and thinking about Diana. Poor Arthur. Poor Diana, too, for having to hurt poor Arthur’s feelings. And what about poor Beatrice? Weren’t Arthur and Beatrice supposed to be a couple?
Or…?
Was Arthur really giving Casey some fatherly advice?
Duh. Spill the beans, Casey. Tell the most generous person in the world…what?
Casey didn’t know what, but he wanted to find out what beans would spill out of his heart the next time he saw Diana, who was at this very moment in the hotel kitchen, preparing dinner for the staff. He felt his spirits lift, and lift him off the bench.
The afternoon was darkening into evening, and it was time to light the lamps and lanterns, which was Casey’s job even on his days off. He started by lighting the lantern on the smoking bridge, then walked over to the bathhouse and lit those lanterns. He crossed the drive and walked up the steps to the verandah, where he lit the last of the outdoor lanterns. He said hello to Larry and Theresa in the lobby, picked up a new book of matches from the front desk, and did his regular lamp-lighting rounds throughout the hotel, upstairs and downstairs, ending up in the kitchen.
There she was, the kindest woman in the world. Those were Arthur’s words.
And there was Arthur, too. And the two of them were holding hands. Diana was smiling into Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur was smiling back, and Arthur almost never smiled.
Casey felt a strong urge to evaporate from the planet, but before he could figure out how to do that, they turned to him, Diana blushing the way only blondes can blush. “Casey! Speak of the devil.”
Arthur said, “Hey, man. Diana has something to tell you.”
“Not now,” Diana said. “Having a good day off?”
“I think so,” Casey said. “Right now I’m a little lost.”
“You’re in the kitchen.”
“Smells great. Well. Allow me to light your lamps, and then I’ll leave you two alone.”
He lit the kitchen lamps, then left the kitchen and walked slowly up the back stairs to his room, where he sat in the deepening dark. Diana and Arthur. Diana and Arthur. Diana and Arthur? Diana, Diana, Diana, Diana. And Arthur.
Oh brother. It served him so right.
Ashamed of himself for just sitting in the dark, he went back downstairs to the lounge, sat at the piano keys, and played “Everything Happens to Me.”
———
During the fall, doing dinner dishes had been one of Diana’s favorite parts of the day. Casey would stand in front of the sink on the left, his hands splashing in the suds, and Diana would be on his right, rinsing and racking. Both of them would bellow out old fifties rock ’n’ roll songs, the kind of songs he never played at the piano, while the rest of the staff sang along, shufflin’, boppin’, and strollin’ as they carried the dirty dishes from the table and stacked them on Casey’s left and picked up the cleans on Diana’s right and dried them and placed them on the shelves. Close community and joyous music, with Casey at his best.
Lately, though, Casey hadn’t sung much. Winter had been a drag.
Spring, which had been coming on tentatively over the past two weeks, had started to cheer him up a bit. There was more tapdance in his step, and the smile was back when he talked to people. Diana was beginning to hope.
But tonight? What a sourpuss. He washed the dishes like they were just dishes. Didn’t talk to anyone, and his silence was infectious; the whole kitchen was moping. When Diana tried singing, she found herself singing alone. Singing “Duke of Earl” by yourself? Try clapping with one hand. Eating with one chopstick.
When he was done with his part of the dishes, Casey left the kitchen without saying a word, and Diana finished the rinsing and then helped the others dry. When the kitchen was clean and ready for the next day, she blew out the lamps and walked out into the lounge, where she found Casey at the piano, playing “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart.” He played slowly and softly, his eyes shut.
She walked behind him and put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. He rolled his shoulders forward, accepting the pressure of her thumbs. His hands moved up the keyboard: “I, know, I, lost, hea, ven.…”
At the right moment, Diana spoke. “You know, Casey, we were meant to be more than just friends.”
His fingers fumbled, and he played on.
She sat down on the piano bench, facing the other way, her back to the keyboard. He brought the song to a close, and she said, “Weren’t we?”
He turned to her with sad eyes. What a face. “Smile,” she said. “Just try it.”
He popped his eyes open wide, flashed a big toothy grin, and started an ultra-up-tempo “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah,” his shoulders rolling and his head wagging.
Diana put her hands to her face and started to cry. He stopped playing. She quit crying. They sat side by side, silent. She inched closer until their hips touched. She rested her head on his shoulder. She said, “I need a hug, and I think you do too.”
They hugged. They held each other close and tight, silent and warm, sad and secure.
As they relaxed apart, she said, “I was talking to Arthur this afternoon.”
“I saw that,” Casey said. “So are you two an item all of a sudden?”
“An item?” Diana responded. “An item?”
“Yeah. You and Arthur. Nice guy, maybe a little gloomy, but you know, good, uh, mechanic.…”
Diana laughed and it felt wonderful to feel a laugh in her throat for a change. “No, Casey, Arthur and I are not an item. He was giving me some fatherly advice.”
“Fatherly advice.”
“That’s what he called it. He told me everyone in the community knows I’ve got to get this thing cleared up or I’m going to go nuts, and people are afraid my cooking will go bad, so he told me it’s time to just speak my piece. What harm can it do, is what he said. He said it hurts more to keep your feelings secret than to put them out there, or something like that. The point is, Casey, I’ve got a God-awful crush on you, sweetie-pie. Have mercy. What’s going to happen to me? Do I stand a ghost of a chance?”
She watched his eyes fill up with tears. Had she wrecked everything again? Again? Made him sad, made him disgusted? Made him hate her forever?
“Oh God, Diana,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to make things inconvenient for you. I’ll just.�
��”
He shook his head, opened his mouth, and failed to speak.
She started to rise, but he grasped her arm and urged her back down. He held her to his chest. The man was shaking.
She broke away from him and looked at his face. Tears were leaking down his cheeks, and his eyes were hungry. She felt his hands on her shoulders, felt them shift to her cheeks, felt his fingers steal around to the back of her neck, and felt her being drawn closer until their mouths touched, their lips parted, their tongues said hello to each other.
Their kiss either lasted forever or was over in a heartbeat, Diana wasn’t sure which, but when they pulled apart they were both laughing.
“Now what?” Casey said. The grin on his face looked ready to swallow his ears.
“Well,” she answered, feeling suddenly shy, “I think it would be nice if you were to ask me out on a date.”
He stood up and offered her his hand. “Miss Pearson, may I escort you to the bathhouse?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Not that kind of date. That’s not a date. I don’t want to spend the night with you, either, until I’m sure this is for keeps. Ask me out on a real date, okay? Let’s not skip over the bullshit small talk stage until we know where we stand.”
“I know a piano bar in Anacapa,” Casey said. “A friend of mine plays there. He’d love to hear you sing. Would you like—”
“Yes! Tomorrow night?”
“It’s a date.”
———
Karen and Nellie sat naked together on the steps of the bathhouse, the fresh spring night air raising goose bumps on their skin. Their bodies, though, were warm from the inside, after a long soak in bath three.
“That was good of you to meet with Craig Gordon today,” Karen said. “I would have chewed him up and spat him out.”
“You sure have it in for the powers that be,” Nellie said. “Why don’t you try cooperating with them for a change?”
“Because they’ve always treated me like a freak of nature.”
“Well? Aren’t you?”
“Nellie, God’s sake, give me a break. These assholes are out to ruin us.”
“And make us rich,” Nellie pointed out.
“So you on their side now? On Joley’s side, may he roast in peace?”
Hot Springs Eternal Page 11
