Every Mountain Made Low

by Alex White

  “Even though they stay pretty longer?”

  “Perfect but short-lived is far better than flawed forever. Do you know why I want you to come have dinner with Esther and me?”

  “No, sir. I know I’m good company, but...”

  “But you were hoping to talk about your employment situation.”

  “Yes, sir.” Had she really been so transparent?

  He chuckled. “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, girl. You don’t work for me anymore.”

  “It’s true. I don’t work for anyone. Left me with more than a few frightening questions to answer, I might add. There ain’t a lot of jobs for people like me.”

  He poured two glasses of liquor and passed one her way. “Not a lot of jobs for people... you mean women? I disagree. You just don’t know where to look.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He gestured to the tinted window behind him. “Marie there was living down on the eighth ring when I found her. She seemed sweet enough, so I asked her if she wanted to work for me. She makes good money.”

  “Are you offering me a job?”

  He raised his glass to her. “You know, I might be doing just that.”

  Nora’s heart thumped. Could this actually be happening? “What would I do for you?”

  “I don’t know, yet. I’ll pay you fair, though. More than old Jack is making, I can assure you.” He took a long sip, draining about half of his glass. “I need to meet all the others before I decide who’s doing what.”

  “The others?”

  Nora was distracted by the car coming to a halt, and she turned to see where they were. A tremendous lawn stretched before them, where marble statues of angels frolicked around a gushing fountain. A colossal manor spread over the back edge of the property, its white parapets and crenellations shining in stunning contrast to an azure roof. A wide brook ran across the property, and as the car passed up the drive, it had to cross a bridge to approach the manor proper. Pairs of weeping willows stood vigil on either side of the road, their leafless branches drooping like ragged strands of hair.

  “This is your house?” she breathed, straining her neck to see the rooftops through the windows as the car pulled to a halt in front of the main doors.

  “This was my father’s house, actually,” said Duke.

  Marie parked the car and ran around to Duke’s side as quickly as possible, opening the door for him.

  “Do you see where Miss Vickers is sitting?” asked the man, and Marie nodded her head. “Always open the lady’s door, first.”

  “Yes, sir, Mister Wallace.”

  “Well, go on, then.”

  Marie rushed around to the other side and opened Nora’s door, ushering her out of the car.

  “I’m sorry,” said Nora. “I keep getting you in trouble, Marie.”

  “She ain’t in trouble,” called Duke, easing out of the other side and coming around to them. “She’s just got to learn how things work. You’re doing a fine job, Marie.”

  The chauffeur gave a demure nod. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Quite welcome,” he replied, extending an elbow to Nora, who took it. Duke had a strong arm for an older man, especially one as rich as him.

  He led her up the steps and Marie rushed to open the door for the both of them. Nora could not help but feel guilty at the doting of this woman. It was one thing to give a job to a downtrodden soul from the eighth ring, but it was another to ask her to serve another downtrodden soul from the seventh ring. Nora wanted to say she could hold her own doors, but she was afraid of offending Duke, who seemed perfectly at home in these circumstances.

  As the front doors swung wide, Nora forgot all thoughts of humility. Hardwood halls over polished marble floors opened before her. Dozens of life-sized portraits adorned the walls, and chandeliers twinkled on the ceiling. Their footsteps carried through the open space, and she suddenly felt quite small. From somewhere, she heard many voices in conversation.

  Duke laid his hands on her shoulders with a quick squeeze and began to remove her coat. “I want to be the first to welcome you to Bellebrook.”

  Nora’s heart jumped at his quick, friendly touch. Was he being a gentleman, or did he have something worse in mind for her daily ‘job?’ She pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and he quickly passed it off to Marie, who took it and scurried away. Nora sighed as she relaxed. She couldn’t stop waiting for the other shoe to drop; sooner or later, she was going to offend Duke.

  The older gentleman came alongside her and offered an elbow, escorting her down the hall. The distant conversation grew to a din, and soon, she realized she could hear dozens of women’s voices. As they rounded the corner, she saw a huge parlor full of ladies from all walks of life. So this was what he’d meant when he’d said, “meet all the others.”

  Most of them looked poor like her, their clothes a little worn, their makeup smudged. Several of them were clearly hookers; grease paint made them appealing in the streetlight, but became an oily palette in the sun. Mixed into the group were a few pale-looking folk from the higher rings, clearly unsettled by their company. These looked to be housewives and the like, and they congregated with some curiosity in one corner of the room.

  “Who are all of these people?” asked Nora.

  “Folks just like you, my dear. Women in trouble, women with difficulties. I’ve been bringing them here over the past day or so, feeding them, offering prayer where they’ll have it.”

  Nora finally understood: she didn’t have a new job; she had a chance at a new job, competing against all of these women. She shook her head, feeling so stupid for not seeing it earlier.

  “I see.”

  He drew up, his chest puffing with satisfaction. “And late tonight will be a feast, in honor of those who get to stay.”

  “And who would they be?”

  Duke grinned. “You’re a beacon, Nora Vickers. I do hope you’ve brought enough oil to keep that lamp lit. Please join the other guests. We’ll be serving cucumber sandwiches in a few minutes.”

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he wandered off. What had, at first, sounded like a fairy tale job was now some nutcase’s idea of charity. Lamps? Feasts? She’d been a little scared when it was just her, but looking over all these other people made one thing abundantly clear: there was nothing special about her.

  She stalked into the makeshift party, the stares of several women hot on her back. Some of them wore ill-fitting clothes, clearly on loan from the estate. Many of them sat quietly, unsure of what to do with themselves, while others clustered together in forced conversation. An undercurrent of desperation ran in the air, subtle but taut as a guitar string.

  A man came and asked her if she wanted anything to drink, and she asked for a sweet tea. She felt like apologizing for the inconvenience, even though it was his job to serve. Within moments, she was sipping a cool, delicious drink, her nerves somewhat calmed.

  She scanned the crowd again, looking for anyone she knew amongst the faces. They were folks of every color, but not one woman stood out as familiar. She spotted a man loitering near the far door, his arms crossed and a bored look upon his face. He clearly hated being there, and she took him for a minder. He lacked the formal clothes of the help, and his muscular frame was far more akin to one of the factory boys.

  The group of housewives suddenly tittered with laughter, and Nora wondered what they were saying. She wouldn’t get any more information standing about, and she wanted to make the best of this chance. Certainly, the ladies of the lower rings weren’t talking. Nora knew their look well – stay down, never self-identify. Those who stood too tall in the bottom of the Hole became targets. Nora screwed up her courage and headed for the only active conversation in the room.

  One of them was clearly the life of the party, slightly prettier and more gregarious than the others. She shot a curious glance as Nora approached.

  “I’m Nora.” Remember to smile.

  The chatter halted as all eyes came to rest on her. If she’d been
looking for information, she certainly had a way of stopping it.

  “Emma,” said the leader, offering a hand. “From three.”

  “Seven. Pleased to meet you. Some party, huh? More like a wake in here.”

  “I suppose most of y’all folks are naturally shy.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  Emma grinned wanly. “Folks from the lowers.” Her compatriots nodded and grunted their assent. “Not much for talking.”

  Nora thrust her hands into her pockets, trying not to scowl. “Yeah. It’s tough down there.”

  “Tough everywhere. That’s the best reason to be cheerful. Don’t you agree?”

  Not tough on three. Never on three. “Uh, sure. So what brings you here?”

  Emma cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. A car, I guess,” she said, and the others giggled.

  “No, I mean... do you know why you’re here?”

  “Do you?”

  Nora’s gaze swept across their faces. She was clearly the most entertaining sport to be had, and they all watched her with a mixture of condescension and unease. She’d only been speaking to them for a few seconds and already, she harbored an intense distaste.

  “Lost my job,” she said. “Down at the plastics plant.”

  Bitter smiles emerged and Nora’s hackles rose. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but the others clearly disliked her for it.

  “My husband passed recently,” said Emma. “In fact, I think that’s pretty much the case all around. All new widows.” She gestured to her companions.

  “All of you?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, it’s tough, everywhere.”

  “My condolences,” said Nora. “Did he know Duke?”

  “I think all of our husbands worked for him in one way or another.” She looked to one of her group. “I forgot to ask. Did yours, Cerise?”

  The woman nodded quickly.

  “Yes,” continued Emma. “All Consortium boys.”

  “How recently?” asked Nora.

  “Recent enough.” Emma craned her neck. Her eyes looked a bit red. “I’m not sure I want to talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but all of your husbands died close together. Isn’t that a little strange?”

  “Aren’t you just a little detective?”

  The other women chuckled

  Nora swallowed. “I’m sorry. I just thought –”

  “It’s fine, darling. I can’t expect you to understand the scope of Duke’s operations. I’ve heard he has something like a hundred thousand people working for him. We’re just the crop of widows from this past year.”

  “I get it.”

  Emma took a step closer. “Now that you do, maybe you could see fit to run on home. Some of here actually need Duke’s help... Some of us didn’t only lose a job.”

  “Excuse me?” said Nora, stepping back.

  “I think I was pretty clear,” she replied, with a sarcastic wink and turned her back, blocking Nora from the rest of the group.

  Just that morning, Nora had about torn Bettie’s head off with her bare hands; now this tiny little slip of a woman thought she could talk to her like the damned help. She wondered how Miss Glamorous would enjoy a fist into her kidney.

  Still, fuck this place. Fuck these people. She’d been so stupid to come here. She wasn’t going to get the job, not going up against those self-righteous bitches.

  Her eyes traveled back to the man at the door. He wasn’t half bad looking – maybe a little spooky. He was supposed to be watching them, but he looked less like a shepherd and more like a wolf. It was hard to blame him, though. Nora looked at one of the teaspoons on a nearby end table and thought it would go for a pretty penny at the Bazaar. Everyone else here had to be thinking the same thing.

  He turned and looked right at her. Her stomach flipped. He had a pitiless, hard face, and he didn’t soften in the way people normally did when they saw her. She gave him a coy smile, her hands coming to rest on her hips. After a moment, he smiled back. He gestured for her to come over, and she obliged.

  “You called?” she asked as she approached.

  “And so I did. What’s your name, sweetness?”

  “Nora Vickers. Call me Nora.” She extended a hand, and he shook it, his skin surprisingly soft.

  “Hiram McClintock. Head of security.” He opened a tin of pastille mints and offered her one, which she declined.

  They indulged in small talk for a few minutes, but Hiram was surprisingly bad at it. The weather, the goings on and politics of the Hole scarcely interested him. He’d been to the plastics factory only once, and he didn’t know any of Nora’s old co-workers. She could get him to talk about Duke easily enough, and Hiram didn’t seem to have a taste for the man. He was happy enough to converse on his boss’s proclivities, none of which were exciting, only a little annoying.

  He sighed loudly. “You enjoying our party?”

  “Not sure what to make of it.”

  “It’s all bullshit. Read your Bible. Sleep overnight. Don’t try to fuck him if he talks to you too long.”

  She flinched at his swear. It seemed out of place here, like a fart. “And then I get to work here?”

  “Yeah. Though I’ve heard you might be a special case. Anyway, it’s his ‘ten virgins’ thing. Did he give you the speech about lamp oil?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He gestured to a passing maid with a plate of cucumber sandwiches. “You could be living the dream. Grand, ain’t it?”

  “How much do they make around here?”

  “Decent. Better than factory wages, but a bunch of them have to come up together from the eighth ring every day. Probably two hours each way, all told. Leaving before sunup, home after sundown. Poor bitches live their jobs. Not to mention Duke takes an hour of everyone’s morning to have a devotional.” He crunched his mint. “Everyone except me, that is. Someone has to watch the homestead.”

  “Oh.”

  “Of course, you could live on the grounds in the servants’ quarters. That’s exactly as fun as it sounds.”

  “Don’t you live on the grounds?”

  “We got a special deal, Duke and me. He doesn’t come to my house, and I watch over his. I got a cozy place on the edge of the estate, and being head of security, I’ve also got the only key.”

  Nora shook her head. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because you look like trouble.”

  Nora cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “What sort of trouble?”

  “The kind of trouble I like. You want to see the rest of the house? We might end up somewhere fun.”

  She frowned, surprised at his offer. She looked around the room at the other women. They looked either scared or self-righteous, but not one appeared to be in control of her surroundings.

  He chuckled. “Or, you know, I could go find you a serving tray. You’d probably look cute in one of those outfits.”

  Nora made eye contact with one of the maids. The serving girl looked anything but happy, and her professional veneer faltered for a moment. Nora nodded at her, and the girl nodded back before continuing about her tasks.

  Nora leaned in to whisper in Hiram’s ear. “I’m not sure I like where this is going. I just broke it off with another boy, and I think I need time.” Then, she patted him on the shoulder and took a step back. “But, thank you all the same.”

  “Your loss. I know where Duke keeps the good booze, so come find me when you get bored.”

  “He got into some in the limousine on the way over. And here I thought all you Baptists were tea drinkers.”

  “Every church has their own rules. That’s the point of being Baptist. Besides...”

  “Besides?”

  “Never said I was a church-going man. You have a good day, now.” Hiram stuffed his hands into his suit pockets and sauntered off.

  Chapter Six

  What She Found

  N
ORA WASN’T CUT out for society life in any way, much like the other women. As the day drifted on, they began to filter out through the front doors for one reason or another, failing to stay for dinner. Marie the driver would depart with one, only to return in time to pick up the next woman. Some of them had children to care for. Those were always the saddest, because Nora knew they needed the job, but Duke clearly required all of a person’s time in order to help them.

  The big fellow himself was in and out at odd moments, checking and chatting with everyone. His booming laugh carried through the halls like a marching band, as though he was deliberately raising his voice to warn others of his approach. He proved to be sweet, too, and she saw him send every woman home with three crisp hundred dollar bills and a hearty handshake.

  It was a good interview process for servants, trying to see who would remain civil, who had too many obligations and who would rather have a few quick bucks than stay on for a real job. Nora knew he’d have to pay well if he wanted to keep his silverware in the drawers. He made the rounds to each woman in turn, offering many questions, always listening intently to the answers with sparkling eyes.

  Nora’s thoughts continually turned to Loxley. The poor girl would be distraught over what had happened that morning, and Nora wondered if she would make it home all right. She always worried about her friend’s trip home, though. The seventh ring was a dangerous place, and Loxley seemed such easy prey. Nora flipped open the beaten old farming book and looked through its tables. Loxley had learned everything from this confusing book, and she worked hard in that garden of hers. She was smarter and stronger than Nora by a long stretch. Loxley had never gotten wrapped up with stupid boyfriends, and she always made her rent.

  Perhaps Nora should have been more worried about herself.

  “May I join you a moment?” came Duke’s voice.

  She put the book on the table next to her Bible. “Absolutely, sir.”