Only Miss Hallowell didn’t bother with pretense. She handed the receiver to Averil and retrieved the tablecloth, dishes, and utensils from the sidebar. He watched as she slipped a well-worn but clean white cloth over the oak table. As she set the table, she kept her head cocked so that one ear was always open to what was being said. For the hundredth time, Averil resolved to leave the boardinghouse by the end of the month.
Averil turned away from her. He picked up the candlestick receiver and spoke. “Hello?”
“Are you Mr. Averil Kingsley?” a female voice inquired.
“Yes.”
“Hold for the connection to your party.” The operator paused. “All right, then. Go ahead, Sir.”
Father’s voice burst onto the line. “Averil? Is that you, my boy?”
My boy? He never called Averil by that name unless he was pleased. “Yes, Father. It’s me.”
“Good to hear your voice again. From what you write in your letters, it sounds like they’re treating you pretty well down there in Virginia.”
Averil glanced toward the dining room table. “Yes, they are. Miss Hallowell’s cook is preparing one of my favorites tonight. Fried fish.” He flashed a grin toward his landlady, who smiled and nodded in return.
“Scrod?”
“Trout, I believe.”
Miss Hallowell’s face beamed with a wide smile as she nodded with vigor.
“That’s mighty fine. Mighty fine,” Father confirmed. “I’m calling about the office space you looked at yesterday. What did you think? Was it fine enough for the Capital Duster Company to call a regional office?”
“I thought the rent was reasonable,” Averil said. “The space was more than adequate and well maintained. Not to mention, the location is in a prime spot on Broad Street.” He paused and waited for an answer. Averil clenched his teeth. His parent was certain to ask him to look at other properties, perhaps less expensive ones. If he did, Averil wasn’t sure how he could respond. The one he saw yesterday was the best he had visited.
“Broad Street, eh? That sounds even better than I first thought.”
“It was the best suite of offices I’ve seen for the money.” Despite the confidence his voice indicated, Averil braced himself for an argument.
“Well, then, if you’re satisfied, so am I.”
“Really?”
Father chuckled. “You seem surprised. Did you expect me to dispute your word?”
“No, Sir,” he blurted out before thinking. “I mean, well, I thought perhaps you would want me to see more properties before making a final decision.”
“Not if you’re happy with this one. Besides, you don’t have all week to tarry looking at offices. You’ve got to get out and sell our machines, my boy,” Father reminded him. “Now, why don’t you notify the landlord—Orwell Smythe, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Notify Mr. Smythe that we’re ready to sign a one-year lease,” Father instructed. “Tell him he’ll be getting his deposit and first month’s rent within the week. And you can go ahead with hiring a secretary and another salesman, if you want. Once we get a Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator in every fine home in Richmond, we’ll need to expand.”
“Yes. To Petersburg. And then maybe to Norfolk.”
“You’ll be surprised how fast you’ll move. Why, Capital Duster will be known all over the state in the next two or three years. And if you play your cards right, all over the Mid-Atlantic Region within five.”
“Just in time to introduce our next model.”
“That’s right,” Father agreed. “Then you can start all over again, selling new machines to everyone. You have learned your lessons well.”
“I do my best.”
“In fact, I’m feeling generous today. If you think you can handle the load, why not hire two good salesmen?”
“I could, but I was hoping you’d send someone down from the home office,” Averil revealed. “If you want to know the truth, I thought perhaps Joe Conners might be interested in the position.”
“Joe Conners? No, my boy. I’m not giving up my best salesman. Not even for you. Besides,” he said, his voice softening, “you need to start just like I did. From the ground up. Build your own sales force. Use people you know and trust.”
“But I don’t know anyone—”
“It’s only a matter of time before you will.” He paused. “If you think I’m being unreasonable, don’t. Your grandfather didn’t hand me everything on a silver platter, and that’s why I can be proud of my accomplishments today. I can call them my own. Understand?”
“I understand.” And he did, all too well. “You have a point, as usual, Father.”
“Of course I do,” Father said. “If I didn’t have confidence that you could do this job and do it well, I wouldn’t trust you with the responsibility.”
Averil nodded before he remembered that Father couldn’t see him over the telephone. “Thank you, Father.” His heart swelled with pride upon finally receiving hard-won compliments from his father.
“Son, you’ve done a tremendous job selling the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovators since you’ve been in Richmond. I have already received letters from two of your customers. They wrote me to say how pleased they are with our machines and what a fine salesperson you are,” said Father.
Averil gasped. “People have written to you? I had no idea.” He searched his memory to try to ascertain who among his customers would take the time to write to the company. He came up empty. “But who?”
“Who? Let me see.” Averil heard Father riffling through papers. “One letter is signed by Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Johnson.”
“Yes.” Averil pictured an older man with a thin frame and thinner hair and a mousy little wife. Mr. Johnson had dominated the transaction, while his wife had remained mute. He had seemed grumpy, complaining about the cost of the machine, asking for free attachments, and insisting that Averil visit him again in six months to be sure the machine was performing satisfactorily. Apparently Averil and the carpet renovator had won over the Johnsons.
Averil heard paper rattling once more.
“Let’s see here,” Father said. “The second is from a Miss Warner.”
“I remember her as well.” The lively brunette’s letter came as less of a surprise. Miss Warner had been a tad on the flirtatious side. He would have to be careful around her. Still, he made a mental note to stop by the Johnsons’ and Miss Warner’s the next day to chat about their new machines. Might as well tryto live up to the good impression he had already made. References, especially from the locals, were always a plus in the sales business.
“I’m glad to hear that you remember your customers,” Father said. “That’s always important in our line of business.”
“Aren’t you surprised anyone bothered to write?” Averil ventured.
“Of course not. We get letters all the time. I suppose you just hadn’t been privy to them since you never worked in the front office. Miss Benton always answers them. And if things continue as they have, your secretary will be quite busy answering customer letters in the future.”
“I hope so.”
Father cleared his throat. “People get rather emotional about the machines they use to clean the house, don’t you know? They seem like part of the family after awhile. Now you keep on telling everybody what a wonderful carpet renovator we make, and you continue to follow up with your customers, just like you’re doing. Keep on, and before you know it, one day you’ll be able to step back and say you can’t remember the day when the Capital Duster Company wasn’t a welcome fixture in the city.”
“Thank you, Father.” Averil swallowed. Finally he had earned his father’s approval and praise!
Averil heard his mother’s voice in the background.
“Your mother sends her regards,” Father said. “She’ll be writing you a letter this week, as usual. Now then, you wrote about meeting a girl? Tell me about her. A Miss Cecily Eaton, you say?”
>
“Yes.” He opened his mouth to protest that he was not seeing Miss Eaton when Father interrupted.
“I happened to mention the Eatons to Boswell the other day. You remember him.”
Averil groaned inwardly. Did the whole state of New York have to know about his social life? “Yes I do. I believe he’s the one who suggested we break into this market.”
“You remember. Good. That quality will come in useful during your career, let me assure you. Anyway, Boswell knows the Eatons. He says they’re a fine family. With a recommendation like that, I’m certain your mother and I would approve heartily of Miss Eaton.”
Despite his father’s glowing words, Averil cringed. It was just like him to nose around, trying to find out all he could about his son’s new acquaintances in Richmond, be they business or personal.
“Have you asked her father about courting her yet?” Father wanted to know.
Averil felt another inward groan. “I escorted her to the Celebration of Spring festivities, but I’m afraid she’s rather popular. I didn’t know it when I agreed to escort her, but she’s practically engaged.”
“Practically engaged? Balderdash. That’s not the same as ‘already married.’ If you want the girl, don’t let a little thing like an engagement stop you.”
“Father! You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. All’s fair in love and war.” Though Averil couldn’t see him, he imagined Father was lifting his forefinger toward the crown molding on the parlor ceiling.
“What about honor?” Averil asked.
“Honor? You can’t eat, drink, or marry honor, my boy. You need the right woman by your side if you want to be a success in this life. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
“That’s right.” He heard Mother answer in the background.
“You are a Kingsley!” Father reminded Averil. “If this girl is the one you really want, you go over there and make known your intentions. That is, if she is really worthy of bearing the Kingsley name.”
“She is, Father. But I haven’t been in the city that long—”
“Never waste a moment! That’s what I always say. If I had, I never would have gotten your dear mother.”
He could hear his mother laugh. The sound of her voice made him happy and homesick at the same time. “Tell Mother I miss her.”
“She knows. But she’s happy, knowing you’re making a name for yourself where you are. I’m not retiring anytime soon, you know,” Father assured him.
“I know.”
“When that day comes, you can move back here if you like.” He paused. “Or you can make the Richmond office our corporate headquarters.”
“Corporate headquarters! But we’ve always been based in New York.”
“Yes, but a new century has dawned. Progress, you know. Progress,” Father said. “And of course, our company is a big part of that. Without us, women might still be forced to beat their rugs over the clothesline.”
Averil doubted the truth of such a sweeping assessment, but decided not to express his opinion.
Not that Father noticed. “And speaking of the new office,” he continued, “are you ready to get out of that boardinghouse and get yourself a real place you can call home?”
Averil looked around the dining room, with its long oak table and simple chairs. No chair rail or crown molding adorned the plain walls, although a bell pull with an array of flowers that he imagined Miss Hallowell had stitched some time ago added interest near the doorway. Chintz curtains decorated large windows—a far cry from the heavy brocaded and velvet window dressings he knew at home. For a boardinghouse, it was respectable and well kept enough, but nothing like where he imagined living for any length of time.
“When I first arrived here, I had no idea I’d succeed to the point you’d open an office here,” Averil admitted. “I thought I’d be returning home. So I never gave much thought to where I’d live permanently.”
“Well, start thinking in terms of a permanent place there. And to facilitate that, I’ll be giving you a salary of forty-five dollars a week, and you’ll be known as the president of the Mid-Atlantic Division.”
A raise and a title! What more could he ask? Then Averil remembered how much Father liked a tough negotiator. “How about fifty dollars a week?”
Averil had forgotten that his conversation was taking place where his fellow boarders could hear. He could almost hear their necks snap as they whipped their heads in his direction. Since Miss Hallowell’s wasn’t the most luxurious or the most expensive boardinghouse in the city, any mention of money caused ears to perk up. Averil swivelled and faced the parlor and witnessed several pairs of eyes upon him.
Embarrassed, he turned away. By default, the motion caused him to see straight into the dining room. Miss Hallowell was setting the knives around the plates. Her pursed lips and downward cast indicated her unhappiness. She must have conjectured that such a sum would be causing her to lose a boarder—a boarder who rented one of the better rooms and who always paid his rent on time.
“That’s my boy!” Father was saying on the other end of the line. “Never accept the first offer. Fifty dollars a week it is.” He chuckled. “You know, I might have gone as high as fifty-five dollars if you had asked.”
“I know better than that, Father.”
He chortled. “You’ve got me there, my boy. You’ve up and gotten pretty smart on me. I can see you will manage our new regional office very well.”
“Thank you. I’ll do my best.” He turned toward the wall. “That’s mighty generous of you.”
“Of course it is. I’m a generous man. And speaking of generosity, this telephone call is costing me money,” Father said. “Lots of money. Not only is the phone company getting rich, but also I’m paying you forty-five, no, fifty dollars a week. Now, rest today and then prepare for a productive week, my boy. You have much to do to ensure the continued success of the Capital Duster Company. I’ll wire the rental monies to the Western Union office in the Jefferson Hotel tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you for calling, Father. Good-bye.”
After he hung up, Averil sighed. He faced the open window and vaguely noticed clouds gathering in the sky, but he paid them no attention. His mind was too much upon his family. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had been so complimentary. He recalled when he had left New York, stepping on the train to come to Richmond. Doubt had clouded Father’s face. Mother sniffled into her handkerchief. His brother-in-law looked arrogant as always, determined to run the New York operation himself. Averil had even doubted his own abilities. What if he had come all this way just to fail? What if he had been forced to return home, heir to the company but answering to his father and brother-in-law for the rest of his days? He shuddered.
I thank Thee, Lord, for giving me the courage and tenacity to succeed here in a place I didn’t know, among strangers, and against all the predictions of my family back home.
“Bad news?” Miss Hallowell interrupted.
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Your eyes were closed for a second, like you were prayin’.”
“I was praying.”
“Then it was bad news.”
Averil chuckled. “I pray whether I get bad news or good. It’s just as important to talk to God when times are good as when times are bad, don’t you think?”
Miss Hallowell shrugged. “I hate to bother the Lord unless I’ve got somethin’ real important to say.”
“All of your concerns—and praises—are important to Him.”
“Whatever you say. So, are you goin’ to tell me what the news was or just give us a sermon?”
“I think I’ll stop with the sermon.”
“What?” The look on her face was so comical that Averil couldn’t resist laughing.
“All right. I’ll tell you. You have a right to know, anyway. As you probably guessed from my end of the conversation—”
“You mean the end where you just kept agreein�
� with everything he said?”
He resisted the urge to reprimand her for nosiness. After all, the telephone was located in a boardinghouse dining room, a place where one could hardly expect complete privacy. “I saw no need to argue with my father.”
“I understand.” She nodded and wiped a fork on her apron. “I know what it’s like to have strong parents.”
Averil decided to ignore her last observation. “I’ve been instructed by my fath—I mean, employer, to seek more permanent accommodations soon.”
He decided to escape up the stairs where he would be away from prying eyes, curious looks, and expressions of concern. For the first time in years, Averil felt as though he was a success in his profession. If only the rest of his life were in such good order. Father’s encouragement about Cecily only served to make him feel more depressed. So many good things were happening in his life—opening the regional office, his father’s newfound confidence in him—but he had no one close by with whom to share his triumph. Life in Richmond, no matter how victorious, could only be bittersweet without the woman he had grown to love.
If only he had asked Mr. Eaton if he could court Cecily before she had come to an understanding with Delmar! Then he would stand a chance.
Twelve
As the family was finishing their Sunday dinner of roast beef, Cecily heard the clopping and clacking of horses’ hooves approaching their house. The sound was merely the culmination of a meal Cecily hadn’t been able to enjoy. For the umpteenth time, she dug her fork into a small mound of creamed potatoes and swirled it back and forth as she stared at her halfempty plate.
Augusta touched her shoulder. “Don’t just sit there. It’s got to be Delmar!”
Loveswept Page 13
