by P. J. Conn
"Do you have something else in mind?" Hal gestured toward the chairs facing his desk and Brian took one.
"No, I enjoy meeting people and sales seems to be a good fit for me, but maybe just not insurance." He looked down at his newly polished wingtips before looking up at Hal, his expression filled with gloom.
"All right, but you'll need a reference. You've spent only six months with California West, and I could only state that you were here. Why not give it a year? A new employer would be more impressed by your commitment to your first job, and I'd have more to compliment you on in a reference."
Brian nodded thoughtfully. "All right, if you think I should."
"I do, and by then, you might decide you'd prefer to stay here with us rather than look for a job elsewhere."
The salesman rose and took a step toward the door. "Thanks, Mr. Marten. I'll do my best not to disappoint you this week, or ever again," he quickly added.
After Brian had returned to his desk in the outer office, Hal made a note of their conversation in the new salesman's file. He relied on his notes when he wrote performance reviews and was certain Brian would now take meticulous care with policy costs. There was a real value to commitment of any endeavor, of course, but he quickly suppressed the need to consider his own.
He bought a bouquet of mixed flowers for Faye before boarding the Red Car, and she was so thrilled by the gesture he regretted not doing it often. He followed her into the kitchen and watched her fill a crystal vase with water. "Be sure to trim the stems, and the flowers will stay fresh much longer."
Faye took her kitchen shears and snipped a stem. "Like this?"
"Perfect." He kissed her cheek and got out of her way. They had a comfortable routine, and there was a value to sticking with it, but as he looked around the familiar furnishings of the living room, he wanted so much more. "Faye?" he called. "Why don't we look at new furniture on Saturday?"
She peered out of the kitchen. "You don't like what we have?"
"I'm just tired of it," he admitted readily. "Maybe all we need is a new chair or a lamp."
"Whatever you want, my love," she replied and hurried to put their chicken and egg noodles on the table.
* * *
Hall knew exactly what he was doing: seeking a cheap thrill with a new woman rather than doting on his wife as he should. He and Faye hadn't known each other long before they'd married, and while they got along well, it was mainly due to her passivity rather than to a true accord. She was pretty with a cheerful disposition, and he would never hurt her by being unfaithful, but a conversation in a bar was just harmless fun. He told himself that repeatedly, but when Thursday arrived, he couldn't wait to get to the Golden Bear.
She was seated in the back booth, dressed in her blue suit and cute veiled hat. She smiled as he approached, and he sat without asking permission. "I'm Hal Marten, and we should exchange names if nothing more."
"Pearl LaFosse," she replied before sampling her martini.
"Hello, Pearl." He thought it the perfect name for her. She was a sophisticated young woman, with an enchanting elegance and as graceful as a string of pearls. He'd not seen her wearing any though. "Do you have sisters, Ruby and Opal and...."
She licked her lips and shook her head. "I'm an only child."
"So am I," he replied.
"That means we're both used to getting our own way," she said. "It's a tragic pairing I'm afraid."
"I could pretend to have a brother or two," Hal offered agreeably.
"It's too late, I already know the truth."
Hal hadn't told her the biggest truth: that he had a wife at home waiting to serve him a nearly inedible meat loaf. For the moment, it didn't matter to him at all. She picked up her purse, and eased out of the booth before he could stop her with a question so intriguing she'd want to stay.
"Good bye," she whispered, and all the men in the bar turned to watch her walk out the door with an enticing feminine sway.
* * *
Saturday was a crisp cool day, and Hal and Faye went furniture shopping. Hal wasn't certain what he wanted, but when Faye fell in love with an over-stuffed chair upholstered in a hideous purple print, he couldn't go along. "I'm afraid it's too big for our living room." He walked around it and lifted the seat cushion. "I should have measured the room before we came. Let's do that before we buy anything so we won't find ourselves with something that doesn't fit in the space we have."
Faye ran her hand fondly over the back of the chair. "Would it fit in the bedroom?"
That she couldn't see the chair for the monstrosity it was appalled him, but he forced down a frustrated groan. "We need to measure it too. Let's go get some ice cream before we go home."
"Ice cream? We haven't gone out for ice cream since we were dating." Distracted by the thought, she took his hand and left the furniture store with a brisk step.
Aunt Lucy's Ice Cream Parlor had a black and white tile floor, white wrought-iron chairs and marble topped tables. Although the charming shop offered more than a dozen flavors, Faye made her choice quickly. "I'd like a single scoop of vanilla, please."
"You'd not care to try something new?" Hal asked. "Maybe the peach?"
"I'm sure it's delicious, but I want vanilla."
Hal nodded to the clerk who scooped up her order. "Give me chocolate chip," he asked. They took a table in the window, and he ate his ice cream as slowly as humanly possible while she played with her spoon between bites.
"May we take some home?" she asked.
"If you'd like to. You have plenty of money for household expenses, don't you, Faye? If you need more, we can easily revise our budget. I don't want you to think you shouldn't buy ice cream if you'd like some. Or anything else, cream puffs, or whatever."
"Cream puffs?" she covered her mouth with her napkin to muffle a giggle before it became an unladylike snort. "I don't usually serve dessert. I suppose I could learn how to bake pies. It would be just like following any other recipe, wouldn't it? "
The mere thought of her tackling pastry was almost more than he could bear. Surely he'd choke to death on her first crust. "I'm sure it is, but it would be much healthier if we saved desserts for the weekends and ate more fresh fruit during the week."
"Do the spiced peaches count?" she asked.
"Yes, they do, and fresh peaches will be delicious in the summer." They continued talking about fruit as they finished their ice cream and bought a quart of vanilla ice cream to take home. He added a jar of chocolate syrup to give the bland flavor a kick and began thinking about what movies were playing for tomorrow. He just wanted out of the house rather than to spend another placid afternoon at home.
* * *
Thursday, Hal had a question ready for Pearl and slid into her booth. "What's your favorite ice cream?" He held his breath, hoping she'd offer a flavor worth tasting.
Giving the question serious consideration, she turned the slender stem of her martini glass slowly in her gloved hands. "Anything with lots of chocolate. Some chocolate chip ice cream has only a sprinkling of chips, and I like it with a multitude of tiny slivers spread all through it. I love rocky road if it has lots of walnuts and marshmallows, chocolate swirl, if it's heavy on the swirl, or chocolate alone if it's thick and rich."
The way she'd looked at him as she stressed the word thick, sent his blood straight to his groin. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. "Chocolate sundaes are good," he finally got out.
She licked her pretty red lips. "Banana splits are my favorite. It's the only time I eat bananas." She glanced at her watch. "Time to go."
His thoughts were so befuddled he couldn't think of a polite way to ask where she had to be in such a rush. He just sat, unable to stand in a gentlemanly fashion before she walked away. There was a carving of a California golden bear by the entrance, and she reached out to touch his raised paw as she slipped out the door.
Mitch came to pick up her martini glass before Hal had taken a sip. "Do you want to finish this?"
&
nbsp; "No thanks, not this time." He followed the bartender to the bar and found a young Chinese man seated on his usual stool. The fellow was slim and handsome with golden skin, and wore his black hair slicked back. His dark suit was well-tailored and an expensive gold watch hung loose on his wrist. Hal took the stool beside him.
"Lou King," the man said, and slid his business card toward Hal. "I'm a bail bondsman, should you ever have need of one."
Hal picked up the card. "I hope not, but I'll keep it just in case. Hal Marten, I'm with California West Insurance." He handed Louis one of his cards. The firm had a silhouette of a giant sequoia as their logo.
"Insurance?" Louis nodded thoughtfully. "A beneficial concept when one lacks a large and affluent family."
"Even if you're blessed with an abundance of wealthy relatives, there's undoubtedly an insurance need you've overlooked."
Lou nodded thoughtfully. "I'll keep your card should one arise," he responded, and slipped it into his suit coat pocket. "It was nice to meet you, but night court keeps me busy, and I need to be on my way."
Mitch came to their end of the bar. "Before you go, Lou, what do you suppose the bail will be when they finally arrest someone for the Black Dahlia murder?"
Lou stood and straightened his coat sleeves. "There will be no bail set for such a gruesome case, and even if there were, I'd not handle it."
"Why not?" Hal asked, genuinely curious. "Do you make your decisions based on the crime, or do you have to believe in a man's innocence before you'll handle his bail?"
The Chinese man responded with a rueful smile. "I'm a businessman, and guilt or innocence doesn't concern me, but I don't want something as sinister as the Black Dahlia murder contaminating my files. Good night."
"Good night." Hal drank only half of his beer before leaving for home and hoped he'd not need another excuse for being late.
* * *
Faye had been circling locations on a map of the gold fields, and when Hal came through the front door, she jumped up and hurried into the kitchen. "I found lots of haunted places in the Gold Country, love. We could visit them all in a single trip."
Hal hung up his coat and hat before surveying the map resting on her heap of library books. "It does look as though they're close. Maybe it's all the same ghost who's commuting on a celestial plane between these places."
Faye put Mr. Cuddles on the back porch with his dinner and brought the silverware to the table. "Can't be. Some are men and others are women. You've heard of Sutter's Mill where gold was discovered?"
"Sure, it's what brought the gold rush."
"Well, there was a doctor who had his own hospital nearby and while he did his best, often prospectors were too sick by the time they arrived at the hospital, and they died there."
"And are now ghosts?" he asked.
"Some are. The hospital is long gone, but there's a restaurant nearby that might be built over a burial ground. Sometimes the owner hears footsteps when there's no other person around. Others see a young woman there in a long dress, just a vague image, but people always describe the same girl."
Hal took his place as she brought in their plates. A photo in a cookbook might make the meatloaf crowded with mash potatoes and green beans look appetizing, but one taste would shatter the illusion. He waited for her to take her seat. "What about all the dead prospectors, aren't they floating around too?"
"There, and in other places, too. A lot of them met with misadventure," she countered impatiently. "You ought to read the books so we can plan the trip together."
"Sure, when I finish the one I'm reading, I'll start on them," he promised.
Surprised, she cocked her head slightly. "You mean it?"
He reached over to squeeze her hand. "Of course. If we're going to tour the Gold Country, I'll have to know where we're going." He didn't interrupt her again as she related another tale about a cemetery ghost that protected a crumbling tombstone where a family of three lay buried. It was a great spooky story perfect for a radio mystery, but he didn't look forward to standing out in a deserted cemetery waiting for a ghost to appear. He'd insist upon giving the effort a time limit, and thereby avoid the problem.
* * *
On Saturday, Hal measured all the rooms in their duplex and completed sketches showing where everything presently sat. "You see, that chair you liked would barely fit through the door, let alone in a corner of the living room or bedroom. Maybe we ought to just buy a couple of new lamps for the end tables by the sofa."
Faye turned on one. "Isn't the light bright enough now?"
"It isn't the brightness that's the problem, sweetheart. The lamp base is simply uninteresting. We bought things too quickly before we moved in so we'd not have to sit on the floor and read with a flashlight."
"Sometimes you're so silly, Hal."
Silly was not a word anyone else would ever use to describe him, but he smiled as though he were amused rather than insulted. "There's a new lamp store I pass every day on the Red Car. It might be a good place to begin rather than a department store."
"Could we stop again at Aunt Lucy's for ice cream?"
"We could. Will you try something new?"
"Why should I? I love vanilla, you know that."
"I certainly do." The Packard he'd owned before they'd gotten married sat in the garage most days. Faye drove it to the market, and they used it on the weekends, but the mileage remained low. It was a comfortable car that would make a trip through the back roads of the Gold Country bearable, but next year, he'd plan an adventure that would be a lot more fun. Maybe they'd drive to Arizona to see the Grand Canyon, anywhere new would suit him just fine.
Chapter 4
Carmen Espinoza came out her back door to empty her trash and saw Faye seated on her back stoop wiping away tears. The plump little woman set the wastebasket on her porch and slipped through the gate separating their yards. "Good heavens, what's happened, child? Has someone died?"
Embarrassed to have been caught weeping, Faye stood and wadded her handkerchief between her hands. "No one I know of. I'm just not sure what's happened, but Hal has changed. He's so restless now, and before he was such a steady sort. It's why I married him."
"Come have a cup of tea with me," Carmen invited, "and maybe we can sort this out."
Faye followed her neighbor through her back door. In Carmen's side of the duplex, the rooms were reversed to their side, and it always made Faye a bit dizzy to visit her. She sank into the sofa and picked up one of the floral needlepoint pillows Carmen delighted in creating. She rested her elbows on the pillow while Carmen prepared the tea. "I'm not sure where to begin," she called to her.
Carmen had already had the teakettle on the stove and entered carrying a tray with two cups of tea, and a small crystal bowl of sugar cubes. "Do you take sugar?" she asked.
"No, thank you, plain is fine." Faye took her cup and blew across it to cool the golden tea. She waited for Carmen to take the chair on her right. "Hal is a very responsible man. That's why he's been promoted several times. He can be depended upon to handle whatever assignment he's given, no matter how difficult."
"That's an excellent trait in a man. I adored Arnold, my first husband, but Lord help us, it was a challenge for him to get through the day."
Faye's eyes widened. "Your first husband? How many have you had?"
"Only three," Carmen responded with a shrug. "Arnold was killed in a car accident that was entirely his own fault. His attention wandered, and wham, he was gone."
Faye took a sip of tea. It had a cinnamon flavor she liked. "I'm so sorry. Were you very young?"
"Twenty-two when I lost him. My second husband, Carlos, he was as steady a man as you describe your Hal to be. We had three sons, delightful boys, who are a big help to me now that they're grown. Carlos had a weak heart, and when I lost him, one of his friends was so anxious to offer comfort, I thought we'd have a happy marriage. Unfortunately, he proved to be a heavy drinker, and I divorced him and went back to using Carlos's last
name."
Faye stared at her neighbor. They'd talked on several occasions, but their chats had never grown this personal. She could easily imagine Carmen being slender and pretty when young, but she was still amazed the white-haired woman could have been married three times. "You do have a lot of experience with marriage then, don't you?"
"Yes, I most certainly do. Now you say Hal has grown restless? Tell me how."
"He used to be content to stay home on the weekends, but now he's always looking for somewhere to go. We go shopping, but never buy much. We've always gone out to dinner on Saturday night. I love Clifton's Cafeteria, but now he chooses a different place each week. It started with a restaurant in China Town, then a Mexican restaurant. We went for Italian food last week. Does that strike you as odd?"
Carmen pursed her lips. "Well, he does appear to be looking for variety, but that's not a bad thing."
"I suppose not, but still, it worries me. He used to be content to work the crossword puzzle on Sunday, but now he's decided we ought to go to the movies. We saw The Bishop's Wife this week."
"With Cary Grant as the angel? Arsenic and Old Lace was my favorite of his, but I love whatever he stars in, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Faye admitted shyly. "We usually talk about movies after we've seen them, but this week, Hal just laughed and said we're as likely to see an angel as a ghost. Do you believe in ghosts?"
Carmen hesitated to reply and took a long swallow of tea. "Well, I've never seen one myself, but other people have."
"Exactly! We're planning to go up to the Gold Rush country on our vacation and look for some."
"Ghost hunting? Although Hal doesn't believe in them?"
"No, he doesn't, but I do, and I'm planning the trip. If we stay in The Cary House in Placerville, we're likely to see ghosts. Almost everyone who stays at that hotel does."
"Really? I'll look forward to hearing all about your trip. A nice vacation will give you a chance to relax and enjoy yourselves. Maybe your husband is concerned about something at work and simply doesn't want to burden you with it."
