Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (4 page)

And then the downpour began in earnest.

Water dumped from the heavens as though a divine dam had burst directly overhead. Within seconds her cloak was drenched, her thin gloves sopping wet, and the ends of her hair, not protected by her sturdy bonnet, clung to her neck in dripping ringlets. The wind whipped water into her face with a hundred shocking, chilly slaps.

“Oh!” She stood paralyzed while buckets poured from the sky.

The others watched from the shelter of the porch, their expressions as startled as hers. Miss Everett’s hand rose to cover her opened mouth, and even Mr. Gates’s eyes bulged as he stood frozen, seemingly transfixed by the sight of her standing in the deluge.

Only Carter displayed any emotion at her predicament. He bent
double, clutched his stomach, and laughed uproariously. “Why, wouldja look at that? We hardly ever get a gully-washer like this one here. Seems the good Lord has decided to give you a proper greeting, missy,” he called over the roar of the rain. “Welcome to Seattle.”

He guffawed at his own joke while Kathryn stood stranded on the wagon, too surprised to be angry at his ill-mannered humor. If this is how the good Lord chose to welcome her to Seattle, things did not bode well for her stay here.

Mr. Gates sprang into action. He leaped into the weather and waded the few steps through the quickly thickening mud, his arms outstretched to her. She didn’t spare the time to think but tumbled forward, trusting that he would catch her. He did, and carried her to the porch with no more effort than if he were toting a bucket of goose down.

The minute her stylish boots, which were only partially soaked by virtue of being shielded beneath her heavy skirt and petticoats, touched down on the wooden porch, he released her. She wavered on her heels for a moment, grateful for the shelter. Within seconds, the deluge lightened and the rain returned to its previous steady drizzle. Never in all her days had she seen a rainstorm arrive and leave so quickly. The weather in San Francisco was far more predictable.

Before she had recovered her composure enough to thank Mr. Gates for rescuing her or to deliver a scornful reprimand to Carter for laughing at her predicament, the door was flung open. The voluminous form of a woman filled the doorway. Kathryn had the impression of pudgy red cheeks, steel gray hair, and a truly impressive bosom that strained a row of pearly buttons on the bodice of a cotton blouse. In the next instant, a coarse voice assaulted her ears.

“Finally here, are you? That Captain Baker will be late for his own funeral, mark my words.” Beady eyes peered at them from sweaty folds of flesh. They fixed on Miss Everett. “You’ve paid in advance, so I’ll see you to your room first.” She switched to Mr. Gates. “If
you’re Jason Gates, Yesler was looking for you yesterday. He’ll have seen the ship, so I expect he’ll be around shortly.”

In the few seconds it took for the piercing gaze to roam in her direction, Kathryn’s stomach tightened. Surely this loud, forward woman could not be Papa’s cousin. But the beady eyes fixed on her and swept her from bonnet to boots.

“You’ll be Philip’s daughter, then.” The fleshy lips curled upward. “Not much to look at, are you? Still, maybe when you’re dry and cleaned up you’ll show some improvement.”

The insult jolted through Kathryn like a spear. Her mouth gaped open, and her chest heaved with outraged breath in search of words on which to explode. “I beg your pardon!”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t go getting huffy right off the bat. You’ll find I’m a woman who speaks her mind. No use taking offense at plain truth.”

Miss Everett and Mr. Gates averted their gazes politely, but Carter seemed unfazed by the woman’s blatant rudeness.

“I’ll jest get them bags.” He hopped off the porch and sloshed five muddy paces toward the wagon.

Cousin Mary Ann cupped a hand aside her mouth and shouted at Carter. “Leave them on the porch. I don’t want puddles inside.” She turned a stern look on her guests. “See those hooks?” Her gesture indicated a row of pegs lining the wall to the right of the door. “Those are for your coats so you don’t drip all over the entry hall.”

With that, she disappeared inside without a backward glance.

Kathryn stood staring after the woman, her jaw slack. Imagine demanding that her guests disrobe and leave their things outside. Had she no inkling of hospitality, of common courtesy even?

Well that, at least, was a quality Kathryn could offer. Since she was temporarily forced to stay here and “help out around the place,” as per Papa’s arrangement, at least she could lend an air of gentility that was desperately needed.

Kathryn extended a hand toward Miss Everett, who had already
obeyed the command to shed her cloak, though of the three of them, hers was by far the driest. “I’ll take that,” she offered. “You go on inside and get settled.”

With a quick smile and a quiet “Thank you,” the lady handed over the garment. When she had followed Cousin Mary Ann through the doorway, Kathryn hung the garment on one of the pegs and then shrugged out of her own. Rivulets ran from her saturated cloak to pool on the wooden slats. She turned to take Mr. Gates’s coat, but he had left the shelter of the porch to help Carter unload the baggage. Good. Offering courtesy to a quietly dignified woman like Miss Everett was one thing, but a man who flung insults at women? Let him hang his own coat.

Two

T
he inside of the hotel was as austere as the outside, though at least it was dry. Kathryn stepped into a long room, bare but for a few hard wooden chairs lining the plank walls and a writing desk situated beside a closed door against the far wall. The only windows were the two in the front, and the deep porch outside them would prevent much sunlight from penetrating the room. She tested the rough wooden slats beneath her boots with a toe. This was the floor that must be protected from puddles?

To her right a narrow stairway led upward, and she heard signs of movement from above. The harsh tones of Papa’s cousin seeped through the ceiling in short, staccato blasts, the words unintelligible from the distance. At least a fire crackled in a stone fireplace to her right, the flickering flames lending a bit of light to the otherwise gloomy interior. She crossed the room and stood before it, hands extended in an attempt to chase the chill from her sodden fingers. This room would benefit greatly from the addition of a few nice pieces of artwork on the walls, and perhaps a table where fresh flowers might be displayed. And a bright woven rug—not to mention some comfortable chairs—would add warmth.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her alerted her to Cousin Mary Ann’s descent. At the same moment the door opened. She
whirled as Mr. Gates entered the hotel without his heavy overcoat. In his hands he carried his narrow rectangular crate, which he set on the floor at his side and kept upright with one hand.

“There you are.” Cousin Mary Ann’s crass voice filled every corner of the nearly bare room as she heaved herself down the stairs. “I’ve saved you a room upstairs.” She drew to a halt at the bottom and tilted her head sideways to peer at him. “The charge is double the normal rate, since your letter said you want to be private.”

He straightened. “I insist on it.”

She shook her head, unruly wisps of wiry dark hair floating around her scalp like the halo on a deranged angel. “That’s two of you asking for private accommodations. Waste of a couple of beds, I say, but it’s all the same to me. I’ll have two weeks’ in advance, though.”

“That’s fine.”

Eyes narrowed, she thrust out a hand, empty palm upward. Certainly payment in advance was an acceptable arrangement for a place of lodging, but Kathryn found the woman’s brash manner embarrassing. Surely the business of collecting rents could be conducted with a bit more finesse. She averted her eyes so as not to appear to stare while he extracted a thick wallet from an inside pocket of his suit coat.

When the money had changed hands and been secreted in the pocket of her skirt, the woman turned again toward the stairs. “This way. You’ll have the corner room in the back. I can’t be responsible for noise. There’s a woman who lives nearby with a couple of brats who squall half the night. I suggest you keep the windows shut till they quiet down.” She hauled her bulky body upward, breath coming heavily after a few steps. “I don’t serve meals, but Evangeline’s next door has decent food and doesn’t overcharge for what you get. If you want a tray brought up, I can arrange that for a small fee.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Mr. Gates picked up his crate
and, holding it before him in two hands, followed her up the stairs at a distance.

“Not putting me out at all,” puffed the woman. She stopped halfway up to lean heavily on her knees. “My hired girl can do it.”

She looked toward Kathryn with a grin. Kathryn’s answer was a hesitant smile. She certainly didn’t expect to be waited on while she was here, even if she
was
a relative. The distance between here and the restaurant next door wasn’t much farther than the walk from her upstairs room at home to the formal dining room on the main floor. The inconvenience of having to go outside was minor. Unless the rain persisted.

Mr. Gates’s gaze scanned the empty room and came to rest on Kathryn. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Your hired girl?”

“That’s right.” She turned her smile on the young man. “If you want her to take care of your laundry or other personal concerns, we’ll work out the details. That’s one of the reasons I’ve hired a strong young woman, so I can offer good service to my customers.”

When she gave Kathryn a disturbingly proprietary glance, the meaning of her words struck with force.

“I?” She rested a hand on her chest. “I am to be a…a maid?”

Pudgy fingers waved in the air in her direction. “We’ll work out the details in a bit. Let me see my guest settled first.”

She continued upward and disappeared through the doorway at the top. Kathryn stared after her, jaw slack. This was Papa’s arrangement? Not that she assist in the management of the hotel, but that she become a servant? Then she realized she was the object of close scrutiny. Mr. Gates’s gaze connected with hers for a moment. Was there more than curiosity in his stare? Did she detect a superior smirk? Heat flooded her cheeks. She whirled around and made a show of splaying her hands to warm them before the fire. The sound of creaking steps told her of his departure.

She forced a long, even breath from her lungs. A mistake had been made. She would write to Papa immediately.

No—on second thought, there was no need to write. She didn’t intend to be here long enough for her letter to reach him and his reply to arrive. First thing in the morning she would speak with Captain Baker and book passage on the
Fair Lady
for the return voyage home.

The room was bare, but sufficient. Jason stood in the open doorway to inspect the interior. A pair of narrow beds, little more than cots, really, lined two walls and took up most of the space. Between them stood a nightstand with a lamp on its surface, and very little room for much else. The area between the beds was hardly big enough for two men to stand side by side, but that wouldn’t present a problem since he did not intend to share his lodgings. He had money enough to ensure his privacy for the duration of his stay in the Faulkner House. As soon as he had settled into a routine at the mill, he would arrange for permanent lodgings.

“There’s plenty of light in this room.” The proprietress peered over his shoulder. “Two windows, you’ll notice. Good breeze when they’re open.”

Since the room was situated on a corner, windows graced two of the four walls and gave the impression of more space than was actually available. The curtains had been tied back, though the dark sky outside shed little light at the moment. Rain drizzled down the glass on the rear-facing wall and turned the trees behind the hotel into mirages. The other two walls were as bare as the ones downstairs. He would take care of that shortly.