Holmes was pleased. ‘Certainly fair enough.’
Minna rose. ‘Come along. We’ll drink to it in my study.’
The next morning at eleven-thirty, the four Lesters, in Minna’s new Ford, drove up North Shore Drive along the quiet waters of Lake Michigan, swung on to Lake Park Avenue, and went through open metal gates. The semicircular driveway ahead of them led to the entrance of the brick mansion that was the home of Harold T. Armbruster.
They had all spent the morning dressing for the critical occasion.
As usual, Minna was the most flamboyantly dressed. She was wearing a diamond dog collar, a stomacher studded with emeralds, a long gown of rich blue silk, with four diamond bracelets rattling on one wrist. Aida was similarly attired, but wore only a pearl necklace that had belonged to their mother. Cathleen, as befitted her age and virginal state, was the most simply dressed, in a pleated white linen blouse and brown skirt. Bruce was neatly attired in a straw hat, celluloid collar, new twenty-five-cent black necktie, and expensive seventy-five-cent checked shirt he had purchased at Mandel Brothers.
They had been squeezed together in the car, since room had to be made for Edmund to chauffeur them. Descending from the Ford, Minna led the way up the marble steps.
Admitted by a butler into the foyer, the guests were received in the garish living-room by Harold T. Armbruster himself. Armbruster was flanked by his top-heavy, dumpy wife, Pearl, and his two offspring. Judith Armbruster looked somewhat like Abe Lincoln, Minna decided - not bad for Lincoln himself, but not as good for an eligible girl in her twenties. Alan, on the other hand, while above medium height and seemingly strong enough, had a faint, ethereal quality, somewhat like Keats. Minna liked him at once.
Cathleen was greeted with handshakes by Armbruster and his wife. Alan greeted her more warmly with a chaste peck on one cheek. Then Cathleen introduced her aunts, Minna and Aida Lester, with whom she and Bruce were staying while in Chicago.
‘Well, well,’ boomed Armbruster, ‘this is a happy group.’ Then addressing himself to Minna, he said, ‘Cathleen tells us you and your sister are prominent in social circles here. I can’t recall ever having met you.’
‘We don’t circulate much,’ replied Minna. ‘We devote ourselves to artistic pursuits and charities. It might be accurate to say we are recluses, two widows alone.’
‘A pity,’ said Armbruster. ‘You’re both too attractive to remove yourselves from society. To make you feel more at home, perhaps you’d like to have a look about?’
Armbruster plodded ahead of them as he led his party through the main downstairs rooms. There was a ballroom which could be converted into a theatre. There were several parlours. They visited the music room, which featured a rosewood piano - quite grand, Minna thought, but nowhere comparable to her own gold piano at the Club. At last they arrived in the large library, done up with imported ebony reading tables inlaid with gold. There were few books in the library. The walls were mostly covered by Gobelin tapestries, and, incongruously, Minna thought, a huge framed painting of a scene from Armbruster’s own stockyards.
Insisting that they all relax on the French Empire sofas in the library, Armbruster rang a bell. A maid and butler
appeared immediately, one to serve pate de foie gras, the other to pour Veuve Clicquot.
Sipping his drink, Armbruster said, ‘I thought we might have a little get-acquainted talk before we go in to lunch.’
‘Where should we begin?’ Minna said pertly.
‘With your niece’s wedding to our son Alan, I should think,’ Armbruster answered. ‘The ballroom you just saw is where the’wedding will take place. I’ve already secured the services of a Lutheran minister, if that is suitable to Cathleen.’
‘I’m a Baptist,’ Cathleen said.
‘No matter,’ said Armbruster decisively. ‘We all pray to the same God, don’t we?’
‘I guess so,’ said Cathleen weakly.
‘We’ll be entertaining 200 guests, the most important people in Chicago. I assume you have your wedding gown, Cathleen?’
Minna took over. ‘Cathleen has a lovely white lace and satin gown that Aida and I have picked out for her at Marshall Field’s. It needs only to be fitted.’
‘Capital!’ Armbruster exclaimed. ‘The wedding will be formal, of course, because it will be a special occasion beyond the ceremony itself. Prince Henry of Prussia will be in Chicago on that date, and I’m making every effort to have him attend the wedding as an honoured guest.’
‘Has he accepted?’ Minna wondered.
‘I believe Mayor Harrison has just presented the prince’s Chicago schedule to his aides in Washington. I should have confirmation before the prince and his party arrive here by train from New York. I have little doubt that the prince will be delighted to be the honoured guest at the banquet in our home.’
‘That would be a feather in your cap,’ said Aida, speaking up.
‘More than that, far more than that,’ agreed Armbruster, rubbing his dry hands together. ‘I’ll tell you something else
that would be a feather in my cap, indeed, in all our caps.’ He turned to address Bruce directly. ‘Bruce, my daughter Judith has urged me to bring you into my firm once you’re part of the family.’
Bruce blinked at him, taken off guard. ‘You… you’re very generous, Mr Armbruster,’ he stuttered. ‘I… I’m not sure what you mean - you mean once my sister marries your son.’
Armbruster laughed. ‘More than that, far more,’ Armbruster told him. ‘I could see, down in Kentucky, that Judith was quite taken by you. Hardly a day has passed since our return to Chicago in which she hasn’t mentioned your name.’
Judith blushed, and giggled. ‘Oh, Father …’
Armbruster ignored her, continuing to address Bruce. ‘I also had an eye on you, Bruce, when you were with Judith, and I observed you were quite attentive to her.’
‘He would be,’ Minna hastily intervened. ‘He’s a Southern gentleman.’
‘Well, I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty making up your own mind, Bruce. For myself, I’d like Prince Henry to enjoy a rare experience, a beautiful double wedding. That accomplished, I feel confident I could take you into the firm. I could make you quite a rich person, young man.’
‘In your meat-packing company?’ Bruce managed to say.
‘As my vice-president.’
‘You’re most generous, sir,’ said Bruce. ‘I have only one problem with that.’
‘What would that be?’ Armbruster wanted to know.
‘I’m considering becoming a vegetarian.’
Armbruster was puzzled. ‘Vegetarian? I’m not sure…’
‘It means abstaining from all animal food,’ Minna interjected.
Bruce pressed forward. ‘Last night I found Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle in Aunt Minna’s library. I read it.’ Bruce began to recite from the expose of the meat-packing industry. ‘ “For once started on that journey, the hog never came back;
at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley, and went sailing down the room… then dangling by a foot, and kicking in frenzy and squealing. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts and wails of agony” as the hog was brutally killed to be converted into pork chops and bacon. That, Mr Armbruster, upset me terribly.’
Armbruster’s face had reddened, until he was almost apoplectic. ‘Upton Sinclair!’ he roared. ‘That anarchist trying to destroy the free enterprise system, with his propaganda that some of my workers fell into the sausage machine and came out as sausage links. He’s an anarchist, no more.’
Minna tried to soothe him. ‘Mr Armbruster, I’d say Upton Sinclair was hardly alone. Vegetarians have ranged from Emanuel Swedenborg to Percy Bysshe Shelley to Count Leo Tolstoi.’
‘All anarchists!’ Armbruster bellowed. ‘I couldn’t consider a vegetarian in my company.’ He glared at Bruce. ‘You can’t be serious. Maybe this is an immature eccentricity.’
‘Well, maybe,’ said Bruce uncertainly.
Bruce rose. ‘I can say yes to the salad,’ he promised. ‘I’ll decide on the steak when I’m faced with it.’
Rising, Minna told herself that she must restrain her nephew. A vice-presidency in the Armbruster Company was not to be passed up lightly, especially when her brother in Kentucky was facing bankruptcy. Of course, the price for compliance was not only renouncing vegetarianism, but also marrying Judith. Minna decided that she would have to give all of this more thought.
As Armbruster took her arm to lead her into the dining-room, Minna guessed that the entire service would be sterling silver.
In the dining-room, she sighed. Every piece was sterling silver.
That evening in the Everleigh Club, Bruce Lester and Karen Grant sat close together on a sofa.
He had dared to take her hand, and she had not resisted. Bruce continued to recount the adventure at the Armbrusters’.
‘Did you eat the steak?’ Karen wanted to know.
‘I nibbled at it, so as not to offend him.’
‘But bringing up the vegetarianism in the home of a meat-packer,’ said Karen. ‘Were you serious about that?’
Bruce shrugged. ‘I really don’t know about becoming a vegetarian, Karen. I do know I wanted to offend Armbruster. He’s such a coarse man.’
‘How can you resist the offer of a vice-presidency when your father is in such trouble and you need money?’
Bruce scratched his forehead. ‘Not easy,’ he said. ‘On the other hand, I haven’t told you the price I was asked to pay to become Armbruster’s vice-president.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’d have to become part of his family. I’d have to marry his daughter Judith.’
Karen studied the man beside her. ‘Well, why not do that?’
‘For one thing, I don’t love her. For another, I care for you. There you have it, Karen. I’m sure of this. I care for you.’
She squeezed his hand tightly. ‘And Bruce, I care for you.’
He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She clung to him, kissing him back.
After they parted briefly, she said, ‘That was delicious. But Bruce, you’ve got to be practical. What are you going to do about money?’
‘Tomorrow I’m going to Washington Park to sell Frontier. That should bring enough to keep me afloat.’ ‘I hope so.’ ‘Come along with me and we’ll see what happens.’
SIX
Arriving at the Washington Street main doorway to City Hall, Harold T. Armbruster checked his watch and noted that he was on time.
Entering the marble lobby, he made for the recently installed elevators, and told the operator inside that he wished to go to Mayor Carter Harrison’s office suite on the third floor. After the slow ride up, Armbruster stepped into the corridor and headed for the mayor’s office.
In the reception room, he was met by a young man who left him to inform the mayor that Armbruster was present. Moments later, the young man returned to guide him through the empty secretarial office into the mayor’s own impressive sanctum.
Mayor Harrison was already on his feet, hand outstretched. Armbruster impatiently shook it.
‘You wanted to see me,’ Armbruster said.
‘Yes, yes, please sit down.’
Armbruster sat on the edge of a chair across from the mayor’s desk, as Harrison settled into his own high-backed leather chair. The summons from the mayor had been unexpected, and Armbruster was restless with curiosity.
The mayor shuffled some papers and raised his head. ‘It’s about the matter of Prince Henry’s visit to Chicago.’
‘I hoped you’d have some news,’ Armbruster said. ‘He hasn’t changed his itinerary, has he?’
‘No, he will be here exactly as scheduled. A morning, an afternoon, an evening, before returning to New York, and to Germany the following day.’
‘Well, did you inform him of the wedding and the banquet at my home?’
The mayor nodded. ‘Up to a point.’
‘What does that mean, Mayor?’
‘It means I had to follow protocol,’ said Mayor Harrison. ‘I worked out a schedule with my staff to cover every hour of the prince’s visit to Chicago. It included your son’s wedding and the banquet to follow. Then, still observing protocol, as I’d been advised, I sent the schedule to the German ambassador in Washington, D.C. I want you to see the schedule so that you will know that I have faithfully kept my promise to you.’
Harrison half lifted himself and handed a sheet of paper to Armbruster.
The meat-packer studied the official schedule. It read:
OFFICIAL PROGRAMME FOR PRINCE HENRY
6:30 a.m. Arrival at Union Station. 10:30 a.m. Visit to Lincoln Park. 11 :oo a.m. Choral festival at First Regiment Armoury. 12:30 p.m. Luncheon at Germania Club. 3:00 p.m. Reception with Mayor Harrison and aldermen
at City Hall. 7:00 p.m. Grand Banquet at the residence of Mr and Mrs Harold T. Armbruster, to celebrate the prince’s visit, as well as the wedding of Mr Alan Armbruster to Miss Cathleen Lester.
Satisfied, Armbruster returned the schedule to the mayor’s desk. ‘You have it there, and you put it well,’ Armbruster said. ‘You haven’t told me the prince’s response.’
‘The very reason I wanted to see you,’ said the mayor. ‘I have a response of sorts, but it is from the German ambassador, and not from Prince Henry. I want you to read it.’
He handed another sheet of paper over his desk to the
meat-packer. Armbruster took it. The sheet of heavier paper with a smooth cottony surface was thicker than the sheet that bore the schedule, and the letterhead was embossed with the address of the German Embassy. Armbruster read it carefully:
Dear Honourable Mayor Carter Harrison,
I am most pleased to have received the programme you outlined for the overnight visit of Prince Henry of Prussia to your renowned metropolis.
Of course, Prince Henry will wish to lay a wreath at the foot of the Monument in Lincoln Park. He certainly will be pleased with the luncheon at the Germania Club, aware as he is that the city of Chicago possesses the sixth-largest population of Germans in the entire world.
Regarding the rest of the schedule, including your reception at the City Hall and the banquet to be hosted by the distinguished Mr and Mrs Armbruster, I can only assume that the prince will be honoured and pleased. However, I do not have his official reaction to the plans as it is too soon to have heard from him.
I have forwarded your programme to Berlin via diplomatic pouch, and I expect to have Prince Henry’s response soon, certainly before his arrival in Chicago.
I will keep you further informed.
With best wishes,
Sincerely, Hans Schulter Ambassador
Armbruster reread the letter and then, shaking his head, threw it on the mayor’s desk. ‘It’s an acknowledgement, but it doesn’t tell us a damn thing.’
‘Not yet, perhaps,’ said Harrison, trying to pacify Armbruster, ‘but it does indicate that the ambassador expects Prince Henry to approve of everything on our programme, including your festivities.’
‘You may be right,’ said Armbruster, somewhat mollified. ‘Still, the prince himself has not yet approved. You must let me know the moment you hear from him. After all, Mrs Armbruster and I have to make special, more elaborate plans for a royal guest.’
Mayor Harrison threw up his hands. ‘What can I say, Mr Armbruster? I know only what you know from the ambassador’s letter, that he expects to hear from Prince Henry before the prince’s arrival in Chicago.’
‘That could be cutting it close.’
‘I really don’t think yo
u have to worry, Mr Armbruster. The prince can only be pleased with your invitation. I feel that you can go ahead and plan accordingly.’
‘Fine,’ said Armbruster, standing. ‘I’ll take your word for it and proceed.’
The mayor also rose. ‘Are you still expecting to make your request of the prince?’
‘My request? Ah, you mean to tell him of my desire to be the next ambassador to Germany?’
‘Precisely.’
‘I’ll be totally honest with you, as I was when I first brought this matter up,’ said Armbruster. ‘While it will definitely improve my social standing in Chicago to have the prince in my home, it is equally important that he feel obligated to me, his host, and that he find time to speak to me alone.’
‘I understand,’ said Harrison amiably.
‘I want to get him aside. To impress upon him how qualified I am to be ambassador, and to let him know how eager I am to have the post. Obviously, he can’t play any decisive part in this except to influence the kaiser, who may then make it known to the White House that I would be most welcome in Berlin. Am I making a mistake in undertaking this?’
‘Not at all, not a bit,’ said the mayor, seeing Armbruster to the door. ‘You do things for people, and then you expect them to do something in return. It is the way of the world.’
‘I’m relieved to hear you say so. Thank you very much, and keep in touch with me.’ He paused. ‘Meanwhile, I wish you luck in your reform campaign. I agree that it is necessary to have Chicago clean as a whistle on the day Prince Henry arrives.’
They were in the stable area of the old Washington Park race track, some distance behind the wooden two-tier grandstand. Bruce Lester and Karen were escorting a horse owner named Robert Clifford to the farthest stall, where Bruce’s colt, Frontier, was feeding.
Clifford was the fifth - and last - potential buyer that Bruce was showing his horse to. Of the first four, three had shown no interest and one had offered a meagre $300.
‘Here he is, Mr Clifford,’ said Bruce, leading the man into the stall. ‘A beauty, isn’t he?’
Clifford stood away, surveying the horse. ‘Rather small for a three-year-old. Is he undernourished?’
(1988) The Golden Room Page 12
