The River to Glory Land

by Janie DeVos

  “Oh, please do,” Ann Marie laughed. “I refuse to give up my source for the hooch.”

  “Why is it that Olivia’s staying over at Francie’s so much these days?”

  “Because Francie’s folks are stayin’ in Gastonia indefinitely, and Olivia feels bad that Francie’s all alone. Besides, their offices are so close to each other that it’s easy enough to ride to and from work together.”

  “Your sister has always been sweet and thoughtful like that,” Kitty said seriously.

  “Yeah,” Ann Marie cut in, “and I bet she’d dance her little toes off to win that hundred bucks for us!”

  “My shy little sister?” I laughed. “Ann Marie, unless you’re plannin’ on kickin’ up those long gams of yours, I suggest you start getting hungry for chicken.”

  “Speaking of chicken,” she said, glancing over at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Cluck, cluck,” I replied as I uncorked the bottle.

  Chapter 9

  The Charleston for the Check

  We walked through the massive arched doorway and into the opulent lobby of the towering Biltmore Hotel, and not one of us said anything other than uttering small exclamations of amazement. The rumors about its elegant extravagance were no exaggeration. In fact, no description I’d heard had done it justice. Enormous marble columns, intricately carved with countless figures and scenes, supported an immense frescoed ceiling painted Wedgewood blue with small white dots scattered evenly across it, giving the impression of some star-filled sky in an Arabian night. Throughout the massive room were potted palm trees, tapestries, Persian rugs, statues on pedestals carved from the finest marble and wood, and massive crystal chandeliers, all of which acted as luxurious accompaniments to the heavy gold-gilt furniture arranged to create numerous conversation areas.

  “I think we’ve all just died and gone to Heaven,” I whispered in awe.

  “Well, if that’s so, then booze ain’t a problem up there,” Kitty said, nudging me with her elbow. I followed her gaze over to the left, through an open door to a handsome smoking salon or perhaps a card room. I saw a few tables, but from my viewpoint, I had a better view of the long mahogany bar filled to capacity. Laughter and soft sounds of jazz emanated through the open glass-paneled door, and I watched as a young, clean-shaven bartender in a white jacket leaned across the bar, flicking a lighter as he did, to quickly assist an older man who was lighting his thick cigar.

  “Wonder how much each of those ‘on the house’ drinks is really costing the customers,” I said with a wry smile.

  “Keep moving, ladies,” Ann Marie instructed. “We’re headed toward the ballroom, where a reserved table awaits us.” She sounded quite pleased with herself.

  “I’m impressed, Annie,” I said affectionately as I looped my arm through hers and Kitty’s on the other side of me. It was rare that the three of us got together anymore.

  “And well you should be, kiddo,” she replied, sticking her jaunty little nose a bit higher in the air. “I had to pull some strings to get us that table, ya know.”

  Following the signs, we found the Alhambra Ballroom, and, unsurprisingly, it was as grand as the lobby. A vaulted ceiling of inlaid woods embedded in mahogany arched above us. Rod iron sconces were spaced evenly on the stucco walls, but the massive crystal chandelier in the center of the room was the focal point. Round tables dressed with lemon-colored tablecloths filled the room, leaving just enough space for a raised stage and dance floor at the far end, and a long, mahogany bar to our left. Couples were dancing the Foxtrot to the popular Ben Slevin song, “Sentimental Me.” As I stood there watching them while Ann Marie checked in with the maître d’, I realized that the band wasn’t just playing the Ben Slevin song. Incredibly, it was Ben Slevin. Even after the devastation of the hurricane, there was no denying that Miami was still alive and kicking.

  Once we were seated, our waiter, dressed in a white tuxedo, handed us opened menus and then promptly poured glasses of water and, surprisingly, champagne.

  “How’d you get that, Ann Marie?” I asked, delighted.

  “I didn’t, and I have no idea where it came from.” She looked genuinely surprised.

  “Ladies, this is a gift from our own personal stock. A bottle we’ve had in our stockroom for years.” We all knew this was the standard explanation, a loophole to serve liquor out in the open legally. “Also, your bill has been taken care of for the night,” he informed us. He had the slightest hint of a Spanish accent. “I have been instructed to inform you to…ummm, let me see if I can correctly recall.” He closed one eye as he worked on remembering the message verbatim. “Oh, yes! You’re to eat to your hearts’ delight! No holds barred. Yes, that was it!” He rocked back on his heels, obviously pleased and relieved he’d phrased it correctly, especially considering his tip might depend on it.

  “Who’s taking care of the bill?” I asked, amazed.

  “Never, my darling friend,” Ann Marie said before the waiter could answer, “look a gift horse in the mouth.” She turned toward the waiter. “Please give our benefactor our thanks.” Then she turned toward us again and lifted her glass in a toast. “To birthdays and benefactors!” she beamed.

  We waited as long as we could for my sister and Francie, but our ravenous appetites were getting the better of us. We attempted to stave them off with appetizers of steamed mussels and goose liver pate, but soon enough those gave way to a rich potato leek soup.

  “Lord, I’m already feelin’ full as a fat flea on a dog, and I haven’t even started on an entrée yet,” I said as I pushed my bowl away from me.

  “Well, I know something that’ll help you feel a lot better, Lily, dear,” Ann Marie said, slurring her words so that it sounded as though she had marbles in her mouth. She’d secreted the pint of whiskey in her purse, and I’d already seen her lower her glass of water under the table twice while furtively glancing around to see if any eyes were upon her as she poured a liberal shot into it. Kitty indulged once, as well, but the small amount of champagne I’d had, on top of the shot in the car, would have to be enough for me. Someone had to drive us home.

  “What’ll make me feel better?” I asked, laughing at her tipsiness.

  “Exercise, that’s what!” Ann Marie declared, slapping the table with her hand so hard that it made the dishes rattle. “You can work off every morsel of food you ate, and all while earning a nice fat check.”

  “Lord, Ann Marie, you get up there and kick your own heels up.”

  “I would if I didn’t have two left feet,” she replied, and then loudly hiccupped.

  Suddenly, beyond Ann Marie’s shoulder, I saw Chick Belvedere sitting at the bar. Immediately, anger replaced my festive mood as I watched the smug hotelier throw his head back and laugh before lighting a cigarette and continuing his conversation with a man whose back was to me. As I sat there watching him, I thought about the contemptible things he’d been doing in an attempt to hurt my family’s hotel. As much as I hated to admit it, his tricks had an impact on our business, and there was no telling what he’d try next. I knew that my grandfather had gone over to the Belvedere to talk to him the week before, but when I’d asked him how things had gone, my grandfather ambiguously replied that, “Once a pole cat, always a pole cat.”

  “Y’all excuse me for a moment, please,” I said as I stood up and tossed my napkin onto the table.

  “You goin’ to the powder room, Lily?” Kitty asked and started to rise. “I’ll go—”

  “I’m not goin’ to the powder room. Chick Belvedere is sitting at the bar and I think I’ll have a word with him.” Both girls’ heads snapped around to look at Chick.

  “Don’t go doin’ something stupid,” Kitty said.

  Ann Marie slurred, “Give ’em hell, girl! You give that no-good, double-crossing snake a good piece of your mind! You want me to go with ya? Why, I’m just in the mood—”

  “
No!” I said firmly, pinning Ann Marie with a look. “You two stay put.”

  I wove my way around tables until I neared the bar. Chick caught sight of me and looked a bit startled before pasting a phony smile on his face and nonchalantly resting his elbow on the bar.

  “Well, well,” Chick drawled. “If it isn’t Miss Lily Strickland as I live and breathe.”

  “Mind if I have a word with you?” I asked, before looking over at the man Chick had been talking to. Taking the cue, the man immediately vacated his stool.

  “Please, take my seat,” he said. “Chick, I’ll be seein’ ya.”

  “Just give us a minute, Frank. It won’t take more than that,” Chick said quickly, obviously not wanting the man to leave.

  “I’m gonna get some fresh air. I’ll catch up with you later.” Before Chick could say anything else, the man quickly walked off. I slid onto his empty stool.

  “What’d ya want, Lily?” Chick’s demeanor had quickly shifted once his friend was out of earshot.

  “I’ll only keep you a minute or so, Chick.”

  The bartender came over to me but I held up my hand to let him know I didn’t need anything.

  “She’s not staying,” Chick confirmed, leaving no doubt that he didn’t want me there. As soon as the bartender moved away, he repeated, “What’d ya want?”

  I realized that when he was irritated, he sounded street hard, as if he grew up on the streets of Chicago. He tried to project the image of a polished, successful Miami Beach hotelier but he was never quite able to pull it off, especially with those who knew him the least little bit.

  “I just want to talk seafood with you, Chick. Just seafood.” I smiled.

  “What about it?” he asked, before lighting another cigarette and pulling on the end of his thin moustache, which was a nervous habit of his. “If you want the name of my distributor, I’d be happy to-.”

  “Shut up, Chick,” I hissed. I was absolutely seething.

  “Tsk, tsk, Miss Strickland!” he said, wagging his index finger at me. “Is that any way for a lady to talk? Unless you’re not one, of course.” His rat-like eyes moved up and down my body.

  “You listen to me, Chick Belvedere,” I said in a low voice as I leaned in toward him. I could actually feel his hot breath as he exhaled, and smell his rank tobacco. “If you pay our distributor double what we’re payin’ so you can buy up all their freshest seafood, leaving us stuck with the leftovers again, you’re gonna be singin’ three octaves higher in your church choir.”

  “You threatening me, Lily Strickland?” he replied, eyes narrowed.

  “You catch on quick.” I smiled, showing him a full mouth of teeth, and then I stepped down from the stool. “Have a wonderful night, Chick.” I started to turn away, but something suddenly occurred to me and I turned back to him. “Your offer of buying our dinner was very generous, but we’d rather pay for it ourselves, just the same.”

  “Good, Miss Strickland, because my generous offer has just been taken off the table. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my associate has arrived,” he said, looking just past my shoulder.

  I turned around, thinking that Frank had returned, but looked up into the intense green eyes of Scott Monroe instead.

  “Why, Miss Strickland, what a pleasant surprise,” he said smoothly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  “I was just leaving,” I said, as I started to move around him, but stopped. “You sure keep questionable company, Mr. Monroe. That doesn’t bode well for your reputation, I can assure you.”

  A wry little smile lifted the corners of his handsome mouth. “Miss Strickland, whoever first termed the expression ‘the pot calling the kettle black’ specifically had you in mind. Have a good evening,” he said, obviously dismissing me.

  I was surprised by his quick retort, which was probably just as well. I immediately walked around him and headed back toward my table, fuming and dreaming up several clever comebacks I would have used had I been quick enough. As I neared my table, I suddenly realized I had a problem that was far bigger than some caustic repartee with a rumrunner. Just how the devil were we going to pay the enormous bill we were running up? Making matters worse, I saw that not only had our entrées arrived, but so had Olivia and Francie, and they were already working on a steak tartare appetizer.

  All four women immediately stopped eating as I slipped back into my chair. They bombarded me with questions about what I’d said to Chick. They all knew how my family and I felt about him, but I downplayed our conversation by saying we simply discussed a business matter concerning our mutual distributor. Then I moved on to our bigger, more immediate problem: the bill.

  “Olivia and Francie, did y’all order your suppers yet?” I asked, hoping they’d only gotten as far as the appetizer. Unfortunately, they’d heard how the check was being taken care of and had ordered high-priced dinners of stuffed snapper and veal Oscar, which were being prepared along with Ann Marie’s filet mignon, and Kitty’s and my broiled lobsters.

  “Girls, no one’s footin’ the bill but us,” I flatly stated. After a collective gasp, I briefly explained why we no longer had a generous benefactor and told everyone to pool the money we had. Once we did, there was the sickening realization that the total amount of $42.58 was enough to guarantee many piles of dishes for us to wash.

  “What’re we gonna do, Lily?” Olivia whispered. I looked over at her and sighed.

  “I guess I’ll call home, and then try Granddaddy if I can’t reach Daddy. One of ’em will have to come down here and take care of it. It’ll be fine.” I smiled, though I was suddenly nauseous. The last thing I wanted to do was call either of them. It wasn’t because they’d be angry, on the contrary, they’d probably find it amusing. But they didn’t need to pay a hefty supper bill when they were struggling to keep up with business bills. I swore to myself I’d pay them back, but that would take some time. I’d already taken another pay cut, though my grandparents were unaware of it. I asked their secretary, Lenora, to make the adjustment in my pay, and implored her not to mention it to my grandparents. Hopefully, Granddaddy wouldn’t notice when he signed the checks she made out.

  “Olivia, you okay?” I asked, reaching out and covering her hand with mine. She seemed a million miles away. “You look tired. You workin’ too much?”

  “No, no,” she assured me, but the dark discoloration under her eyes said otherwise. I raised my eyebrows at her and she smiled. “All right, maybe a little too much. I’ve burned the midnight oil a couple of nights this week. We received large shipments from a couple of new importers, and I had to be there to record what came in, and then ship some of that inventory right out. It’s been a long week, but I wouldn’t have missed your party for the world,” she quickly added.

  “I keep tellin’ her she needs to do calisthenics,” Francie said. “Twice a day, every day, my boss, Verna Hooper, makes us get up and do calisthenics. She says it keeps our blood from pooling in our ankles when we need it to flow much higher to keep our minds alert and our fingers nimble. Can’t you just picture it?” she laughed. “A whole room of telephone operators counting in unison as we do deep knee bends and jumping jacks!” Francie rolled her eyes as we laughed, and then she laughed with us, which was good to see since I hadn’t seen even a hint of a smile from her in a month’s time. No doubt about it, Francie was resilient.

  “So, Lily,” Olivia said, “do you want me to call Daddy, or—”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ben Slevin’s voice boomed over the microphone, interrupting Olivia. All eyes turned to him. “Once again, welcome to the Alhambra room, at the fabulous Biltmore Hotel!” Polite clapping echoed in the high-ceilinged ballroom. “What an evening it’s been, and we’re only getting started. First of all, let’s hear it for this fabulous band I’m fortunate enough to be a part of,” he said humbly as he turned around, extending his arm toward the musicians. Thunderous applause brok
e out as the band nodded toward Ben, and then the audience. “Now.” He smiled broadly at the audience. “One of the most anticipated events of the season is finally here! It’s our Charleston contest!” Hoots and hollers rang out, and Ben raised his hand to quiet everyone down.

  “Alrighteeeeee,” he continued. “Let’s get all our dolls up here, and get this ballroom jumpin’!” he said enthusiastically as he motioned for the women in the audience to come up on stage.

  “Well, ladies,” I said, standing up and tossing my napkin down on the table. “I have just resigned myself to the fact that I’m gonna have to dance for our supper.”

  They cheered as I made my way up to the stage with about a dozen other women. Standing there while they pinned a numbered card onto each of us, I looked down at the audience and saw the ladies at my table beaming at me. Then I shifted my gaze over to the bar and saw Scott Monroe watching me, too. Suddenly, I wanted to dance the Charleston better than I had ever danced it before.

  Chapter 10

  The Prick of a Pin

  “She was the bees’s knees last night, Mama! Honestly, she was!” My sister’s usually quiet nature was anything but the following morning. At the breakfast table, Olivia spared no detail telling our parents about my winning the dance contest and what followed. It was nice having her home. She rarely was anymore, but she’d decided to sleep in her own bed after our adventurous evening. She gave our parents a moment-by-moment account of the evening’s events, other than my confrontation with Chick. I told Olivia that she was not to mention a word about that, and she hadn’t. We both knew it would put a damper on an otherwise enjoyable breakfast.

  “So Ben Slevin paid your dinner bill?” Daddy laughed, setting aside the Miami Herald to fix his coffee. “I bet I’m the only father in all of Miami who can claim that!”

  “Yes, Daddy, you are!” Olivia confirmed. “Even after she won the contest money, he wanted to pay for our dinner. He thought Lily was quite a doll, and I bet he would have bought several dinners for her.” She was making way too much of a fuss, but I was pleased to see her so animated. It had been a while.