In Search of Satisfaction

by J. California Cooper

  Mrs. Whitman finally reached the landing and stopped to lean against the wall to catch her breath, smoothing her bodice, which seemed to be a nervous habit. Then she moved on, whining again, “Mmmmmhmm, well he just hangs out his shingle in old Mr. Befoe’s office. Mmmmm, musta knew you was coming.” She laughed and it sounded like a little cry.

  “Well, here we are,” she said as she opened the bedroom door wide. The room was of a good size, clean, with a high-poster bed, flowered wallpaper, flowered bedspread, flowered dresser doily and curtains, imitation flowers in a flowered vase. “This is my best room. I planned it for a lady. Mmmmmhmm.”

  Yin looked at the room so full of flowers, smiling inwardly at the pretentiousness. “How far is the bath and the … toilet?”

  Mrs. Whitman seldom took a bath now, nor did she even when she was married, before her husbands had died, each one. She said to herself, “This one is either a whore or a lady.” She said to Yin, “Well, mmmmhmm, you hav’ta work that out with Mazel, she have to bring the water up, mmmmmhmmm, or you come down there. And we all use a chamber pot. Only a few people round here like Miz Befoe and such has any inside baths and toilets.” She thought of her water. “If I was you, I wouldn’t bathe too much cause I know for a fac’ that it only puts the skin open to germs and diseases. Mmmmmhmm.” She sniffled. “Now, if you think this ain’t gonna be good nough for you, then I don’t know where you gonna go, cause the onliest thing left is a rooming house a colored woman keeps over there near the colored part of town. I won’t live with coloreds myself, never have.”

  Yin thought of the two coloreds downstairs that she was pretty sure lived in. “How much will it be costing?”

  The room went up two dollars. “Oh, mmmmmhmmm, $3.50 a week for you. Five dollars if you plan to grace our table. Mazel is a mighty fine cook!”

  Yin moved into the room, taking off her gloves. “May I be served in my room?”

  “Mmmmhmm, well it ain’t … aren’t our regular practice, but for a little extra, fifty cents or so, I can have one of em bring your meals up. Mmmmhmm, you will have to eat at the time we eat though, cause I have to get everythin cleaned and locked up. Once I put everythin away, well, mmm, I don’t let em out no more.” She crossed her hands upon her breast and looked humble. “Mmmmhmm, I’m a widder woman, you know, nobody here to see for me, but me. People’s all time takin advantage of women all alone in the world. Why, my help’d just steal me blind. Mmmmhmm …”

  Yin broke in hastily to stop the barrage of words, “Yes, yes, that will be fine. Now that is settled.”

  Mrs. Whitman didn’t seem to want to leave, so Yin moved to the door. Mrs. Whitman stepped further into the room. “Mmmmmhmmm, we pays in advance here in Yoville.”

  Yin moved aside to let the man Tillis bring some of her baggage in. She then reached for her purse, “Certainiment. I will pay you now for one week.”

  Mrs. Whitman, hand to her lips, eyes opened wide, asked, “What is that there you said? Was that a forei’n tongue you spoken?”

  “Yes, French.”

  Thoughtfully, Mrs. Whitman said, “Lovely, I’m sure.” So that accounted for her color and looks! She was a white woman, just a forei’ner.

  Tillis went downstairs to get the remaining bags, taking his time so that Mrs. Whitman would be gone from the rented room when he got back. Whenever he got a tip, Mrs. Whitman deducted it from his dollar a week pay. He did not want her to see whatever the lady might give him. When he heard her coming down, he started up. They met and dodged back and forth as Mrs. Whitman fussed, whining, “Tillis, you should’a waited ‘til I was all the way down! You know two people, ’specially one weak and one with bags can’t pass on these here stairs!” “Yes’m” came the words from the bowed head. Tillis was laughing quietly at Mrs. Whitman. He laughed at her airs and liked to see her uncomfortable as she so often made others.

  Yin was placing her things around the room, clearing a way to hang dresses in the closet. Tillis came in with the last two bags. “You wants me to hep you open up all them bags, mam?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll wait until I know how long I am to stay here.” She looked at Tillis wondering if he could perhaps be one of Josephus’ relatives and therefore one of hers. She frowned. “Where is the lawyer’s office. Is it far from here?” She reached in her purse, deciding how much to give him by determining how much use he would be to her.

  “No mam, ain’t far.” He pocketed the change and smiled, looking down, away from the white woman. “I’ll show you soons you come down ready.”

  yinyang found the Befoe legal office easily, it was right next door to the Befoe Bank. There were few people about so she did not have to wait long for the lawyer. The only jail, a converted barn, was for coloreds who didn’t always remember how to act. The occasional white man who had to go there belonged there, they said—done gone bad anyway or he wouldn’t be there, was the prevailing opinion. The small courthouse attached to the jail was locked until a visiting judge appeared in town, usually by request. Sometimes a year would pass between judicial visits. So there was not a lot for a lawyer to do except settle small business problems and agreements or complete business papers—land, wills and things like that. He was really there to keep up with Mr. Befoe’s business. Even so, Mr. Befoe kept his main files at his house. Most people with the real money had attorneys in huge corporations in large cities. And the lawyer Syntoll was very glad things were that way. He liked to pose and even strut in his pride at being a lawyer, but he was deathly afraid of being discovered in court as a fool or failure. He was smart, he knew he was smart. But suppose he lost a case?! He could never show his face to his friends or family again! The only answer was to practice where his friends would never see him and where court rarely convened.

  The rich and powerful Mr. Richard Befoe was a very important client of one of the most important firms in Philadelphia, which is where Mr. Syntoll grew up. Mr. Syntoll admired, nay, practically worshiped, Mr. Befoe and the firm which would never invite him to join it. Consequently, Mr. Syntoll chose to move to Yoville when Mr. Befoe suggested it, having heard it was small and court seldom convened over anything very demanding. Mr. Syntoll’s family had a little money and, knowing his weakness, were very glad he had passed the bar exam and spared them any embarrassment, so they helped him from time to time and he was able to take his time moving along, posing as a lawyer or how he thought a lawyer should act.

  Mr. Syntoll seemed not to look hard at his new female client, but he did and saw all things that pleased him.

  “My name is Yinyang Krupt, and I am in need of legal advice.”

  “Shall I refer to you as Miss or Mrs.?”

  “Miss or Mademoiselle shall be fine.”

  He smiled, she smiled.

  “Please, have a seat, please, and tell me how I may help you.”

  Seated, Yin spoke in a soft, southernly voice, “My parents, the Krupts, lived, had property and died here. I was sent to school in New Orleans and stayed on after my education for there was nothing and no one to come home to.” She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped at her eyes. To her surprise, there really were tears there. “I have come home to ascertain what the situation is with the property and all our other belongings.” She took her birth certificate from her dainty little bag. “Here is my birth certificate, and you must tell me what else I need so to regain my papa’s proper estate.”

  The lawyer Syntoll took a deep breath and looked over the certificate. “I have not been here very long, but I have looked for a home to buy so I am familiar with this area.”

  Yin smiled through her tears. “That is very good.”

  “I do believe,” he continued, “I remember the Krupt land to be deeply in disrepair and overgrown with thistles and thickets, trees gone wild, yet … a beautiful piece of property it could be. Do you plan to live here on the land or do you wish to sell it and return to …”

  Yin moved forward in her seat, “It all depends on the costs. Is there … any
money in the estate? I mean, I did not inquire ever … if I had inherited anything. I was too heartbroken for so many years to speak of money … after losing my parents, you see.” She dabbed at her eyes daintily.

  Mr. Syntoll laid a paper pad in front of her. “Give me your address. I do not have a phone yet. They are very hard to get here unless you have a million dollars.” He smiled at her. “I hope to have one soon, but I dare say you don’t have one either. Only one or two local families do. Give me the address and I will find out all I can this afternoon and call on you this evening with any news I have.”

  They talked a few moments more, then, all things done for the time being, Yin rose to leave. She did not ask him about his fee but sauntered rather primly but sexily out of his office. Mr. Syntoll steadily followed, reaching around her to open doors and make her way convenient. No, Yin did not intend to seduce him for the fee. She just knew that if he admired her a good bit, the charge should not be too high.

  Returning to the rooming house, Yin was met by Mrs. Whitman who had been through Yin’s things and bad a million questions to ask about Yin’s business, but Mrs. Whitman was asking a champion evader and she didn’t learn much. Yin plead a headache and fled to her room, closing the door, thinking, “That nosy, ole bitch!” and looked to see if anything was missing, although she had no way of knowing if Mrs. Whitman had been in there. “I will make friends with Mazel and ask her anything I need to know.”

  Later, when Mazel came to her room to bring water and admired a pretty scarf laying on the table, Yin gave the scarf to her. It was one of the most beautiful things Mazel had ever owned. She was grateful, but whenever she could, she looked over other things Yin had, too.

  When the lawyer Syntoll called on Yin that evening, he told her, “Mrs. Befoe has been tying up the property for years, you see. So no one else has tried to buy it. The only thing to your advantage is they have not paid any taxes on the land. They may be waiting for it to just fall in the hands of the judgeship of the town, which they own, you might say, and thereby they would get it for a little of nothing or less.” He smiled at his attempt at a joke. “There does not seem to be any names on the estate as relatives waited ten years for closer relatives to show up, none did, and those who had waited were then awarded all cash found in the Befoe bank. There might possibly be a trust …?” The question hung in the air.

  Yin brushed that aside knowing there was none. “What do I have to do to acquire my property?”

  Mr. Syntoll was glad all these questions were easy. “I would say pay the taxes and establish yourself as rightful heir. I can do that with your certificate. But the estate is in awful condition.”

  Yin placed her hand over her breast. “How much are the taxes?”

  Mr. Syntoll looked at her hand. “So much land, so much time, perhaps two hundred dollars now.”

  Yin shook her head slowly. “So much money.”

  Mr. Syntoll, who did not have very much money himself, nodded. “Well, yes …”

  Yin made two quick decisions. Looking into Mr. Syntoll’s eyes, she said, “I will, naturally, pay the taxes. But it will not leave me much to pay you.”

  Glad she did not ask him for a loan, Mr. Syntoll made two quick decisions. “Well, certainly we can work that out, in time. But there is another thing. The Befoes have spent some money keeping the land clear near the road going through town. You will have to reimburse them, I’m sure, and, after all, I do work for him as well as myself.”

  Yin rubbed her hand slowly across her breast, taking a deep breath. “How much is that?”

  Mr. Syntoll picked up his hat and stood. “Well, we should wait and see how much I will have to do for you.” He smiled down at her, trying to make it a warm, handsome smile. “We don’t have to worry about the costs now. However, I do not think I should do any more at this time. I understand Mr. Befoe has been ill. I believe you will have to speak with Mrs. Befoe yourself.”

  Mr. Syntoll hesitated a moment, thinking. Perhaps he might have liked to speak with them himself; he was a social climber. But his final thought was, “If she cannot or may not pay for what I have already done, I will not do too much more until I can see what is going to happen.” He smiled at Yin again. “If she has problems,” he thought, “I’ll see what I can do.” His smile was now wicked. “She is a pretty piece of baggage and,” his eyes shone brightly, “if it turns out she has money …” Finally, Mr. Syntoll went back to his empty office to wait, to think, maybe even to dream of never having to go into any court or even work for anyone else again. “After all, she must be a single woman. And if she has business with the Befoes, she could very well be a very rich woman.” So far in Yoville, the people Yin had met were thinking of her money. Not of her.

  chapter

  14

  yin decided to pass by the Befoe mansion before going back to the hotel to plan her next move. It was huge, stately and beautifully kept. She saw the gardener trimming the large, old hedges in the late heat of the sun. She did not know he was her nephew, Luke, son of her half-sister, Ruth. She looked back over her shoulder at the mansion as she walked back to the hotel, thinking, “I shall be visiting you very soon, I think, Mrs. Befoe. Tomorrow.”

  the next morning Yin awoke with reservations about her hopes and plans. She had had a restless night. The bed had been even more strange to her body than the train bed had been—both transient, but the bed in this house seemed to hold unclean secrets from what had gone before whereas the train seemed swept clean of the past. All night, Yin’s mind had revolved around the past. Fear had brought misty tears to her eyes. “I have always been alone since Pajo died. Josephus. Life has dealt me the lowest of blows. I have not had anyone, not anyone to truly be with me since my father died. And I am lonely … and scared. Why must I be alone among all these people? No one cares whether I eat, where I sleep, whether I have a home or not. How did I get out here in this world all by myself? I am not ugly, what’s the matter with me?” She was frightened. “If I don’t think about it, I’ll be all right.” She turned on her side, trying to sleep, to forget her thoughts. “But, how can I not think about it?” The thoughts continued.

  Yin was a young woman at thirty. Old for some in those times, but if you could afford to take care of yourself, pamper your skin and body as Yin had, a woman could still look good at thirty. “I am tired before I have even begun.” Her thoughts made her turn again. “On my own. I must do all my own thinking. Not with, but against everyone else. Oh, God, why am I alone? I’m not ugly. I’m not mean … and evil like some.” She sighed. “Why should I ask you? You may not even be there. And if you are there, you surely don’t even know me.” She opened her eyes. “I wish that priest Paul was here. He would know what I’m supposed to do. I want my house. My home. My own. My own everything!” With these sad thoughts in her mind, she finally drifted off into restless sleep.

  Now she was awake early and her natural exuberance tried to overcome her sadness. She rose, bathed as best she could. Then she looked over her wonderful, fabulous wardrobe. She did not want these small town folks to think she had too much money, “They will charge me out of it!” A wave of emotion swept through her. “I’m alone, dammit! Alone, alone, alone, alone. I’m thinking against people I don’t even know. Where is somebody for me? Is he here? Is he here, or did I leave him behind in New Orleans without even knowing him yet?” Sitting down slowly, she felt sad and sorry for herself. Tears formed in her eyes and slowly rolled down the fresh, pretty cheeks. “I am not loved. By anybody.” Yin laughed a sad, little laugh. “Well, at least I do not love anyone. I don’t have that kind of pain. And I almost have a house.” The tears dried. She stood up again. “I am going to get my house! Now,” she began sorting her clothes again. “What shall I wear? Something soft and feminine, yet businesslike. Something muted or dark to imply I am serious. And very rich in feel and looks and value.” She clapped her hands together like a child, once. “I have just the thing … I think.” She opened a different trunk and found
what she wanted. “And a hat! Yes, that little pert ‘you can’t beat me!’ hat! Dark, with a bit of no-nonsense veil.” She was breathing heavily when she finished finding gloves, stockings and all the things she wanted to go with the chosen outfit, but she was smiling. “I got as much right as anybody to get out here and get what I want. I have to be satisfied, too!” She dressed and was gone with hardly a word to anyone but Mazel, who handed her a hot cup of coffee. “I don’t want it. I may spill it, and I don’t want to have to change.”

  It was still early, looking like the beginning of a beautiful day. She walked, enjoying it. She remembered the way to the old Krupt house. With every step she said to herself, “I will do it. No matter what I have to do, I will get my house! I will do it, I will do it!”

  The landscape around the Krupt house was in deplorable condition. Yin could have cried. Everywhere she looked she saw weeds, uncut bushes taking over the yard and lawns, a board hanging, a door off its hinge, steps broken, even some wood torn away, taken away. Dollar signs floated before her eyes at the thought of the costs. Hers!

  The door to the house was locked, and she broke the lock with a rock. She went through the house touching and remembering. It had been a very rich house. Had been very well built to last. It needed work, but … She almost cried again as each room reminded her of times past. Josephus, her mother. “Oh, what has kept me away so long? Why didn’t I come back sooner to see what really happened? Oh, my mother, my poor mother.” Yin thought of the happy few days when other people looked after her. She went to her mother’s room, studying it a long time, remembering her childhood. Then to her own bedroom. Everything all over the house was covered with cloth and dust. Food left in containers, long dried up or mouse-tracked, ridden with dead bugs. It was a huge amount of work … and another huge amount of money. She did cry, but she stopped herself soon. “Even with the house like this, I feel a little bit secure. This is my home.” She knew she would have to do most of the cleaning work herself. “You bet I will!” she declared to the empty house. Then pulling the door to the yard closed, she left, walking down the same long road she had left there on with Josephus. “Well, I’m back.”