The Bride's House (29 page)

Some of the treasures that Pearl had acquired when she was in Europe disappeared from the house. The diamond bracelet went first and then the antiques. Pearl even inquired about selling the shares of stock she held in the Colorado Molybdenite Company, the shares that Frank had given to her father in return for breaking the engagement. Pearl knew that there had been a demand for molybdenum during the war—it was used to strengthen steel—but she no longer followed stocks, especially that one, and Charlie told her that Colorado Molybdenite had not done well, whether due to a poor ore body or inept management, Pearl did not know. The company had shut down after the Armistice. So Pearl was not surprised that the stock had no value, and she was even a little glad, because if she were honest with herself, she knew she did not really want to dispose of that last tenuous connection to Frank Curry.

Once, Pearl suggested to her father that they find a smaller house where the upkeep would be easier and cheaper, but Charlie only looked at her with a stunned expression on his face. “Sell?” he asked. “Sell Nealie’s house?” And because she realized it would kill her father to leave the Bride’s House, she dropped the subject. He would live out his days there, in the frayed rooms with their shabby furniture. And so would she. Just as Mrs. Travers did.

In the late 1920s, the old woman’s heart gave out. She gasped for breath and complained of pain, and the doctor who examined her ordered her to a hospital. But Mrs. Travers refused. She would spend her final days, her final hours, in the Bride’s House, with Pearl and Charlie, just as Nealie had. They moved her into Charlie’s room then, into the old-fashioned bed with its brass tubes and flutings and the view of the mountains, and they nursed her themselves. Pearl made beef tea and puddings, but the old woman could not eat. She was troubled. Her mind wandered. “I’ll be with Nealie before long. I expect I’ll have to answer to her.”

“For what?” Pearl asked.

“For one thing and another. For her and you.”

“You’ve led an exemplary life. You’ve been a mother to me since the day I was born.”

“There’s things I could have done, wished I’d done. It might have eased your life. I could have told Frank Curry—”

Pearl put her hand over the old woman’s mouth. “You could have told him nothing. He didn’t love me.”

“I’ve been thinking about what Nealie would have wanted. She’d have told me different. I made bad decisions. I promised to take care of you, and I let you down.”

Pearl shushed her, troubled that at the end, Aunt Lidie’s mind was no longer clear. She took a washcloth and wiped the old woman’s forehead, and Mrs. Travers began to mutter. Charlie came into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “Your mother died here, in this bed.” His voice trailed off, and he turned and went to the window.

Then he paced the room, until Pearl said, “Papa, please sit down.” But he didn’t. He left the house and did not come back for a long time. When he did, Pearl was sitting on a straight chair beside the bed, her hands over her face, tears seeping out from between her fingers. Mrs. Travers lay still, the sheet drawn up to her chin.

“She’s gone,” Charlie said heavily.

Pearl nodded, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “She asked me to forgive her, asked me over and over again, but I didn’t know what she meant.”

“Was there a final word?”

Pearl nodded. “It was ‘Nealie.’”

*   *   *

Mrs. Travers had been dead for more than a year that morning in June 1929 when a man in a fine automobile called.

Pearl saw him from the upstairs window as he alighted from the car, but she did not recognize him. Not so many men called on her father now, although the visitors had not stopped altogether. Men still sought out Charlie for his knowledge of ore bodies or simply to talk about old times. Charlie’s greatest pleasure was sitting down with longtime friends and business associates who remembered the past, so Pearl was glad to see one of them coming up the walk.

She did not pay much attention to the man as she peered out of the window, since she was more interested in his car. She had not seen one that large in Georgetown, although there were many autos in the county now. The road to Denver had been improved, and one could make the drive in a couple of hours, although a few drivers returning to Denver could not manage the steep grade on Floyd Hill and had to either put their cars into reverse and climb up the mountain backward or place their vehicles on flatcars and ride home on the train. And the road was passable only in decent weather, so only a fool would drive it in a snowstorm. But this was June, and it was a common sight to see sightseers, a few in old-fashioned dusters and goggles, roaring about Georgetown in their flashy convertibles. The visitor’s auto was obviously expensive, and Pearl wondered if it was a Pierce Arrow or a Cadillac, but she was not up on such things, so she could not tell.

The man rang the bell, and because she supposed that Charlie was downstairs, Pearl did not answer. When there was a second ring, Pearl remembered that her father had gone out, so she went down the steps, a little curious now to find out who was driving such a splendid vehicle and why he was calling. She hoped he would stay until Charlie returned.

She opened the massive wooden door and pushed at the screen, then stopped with her hand on the frame, unable to move. The smell of lilacs overwhelmed her, and she thought, they were blooming the first time he called. The scent always reminded her of him, and sometimes the connection was so strong that she closed herself in her room to keep from melancholy, for even after all those years, memories of him still did that to her. She could not speak then but only stared. It was a meeting she had supposed in her mind a thousand times, but one for which she was not prepared. So she said nothing, only stood mute.

“Hello, Pearl,” Frank Curry said.

“Mr. Curry,” she replied, her voice working a little.

“Frank. You used to call me Frank.”

Pearl wanted to say there were a great many things that used to be, but she swallowed the retort. She would not greet him in anger. She had forgiven her father, but had she forgiven Frank Curry? She did not think so.

“Will you invite me in?”

“Yes,” Pearl said, opening the screen. She did not hold out her hand but stood aside to let him enter. “Papa is not at home.”

“It’s not your father I’ve come to see. It’s you.”

Pearl didn’t know what to say, so she turned and led the way into the parlor, conscious as she went into the room that it was as worn and as dated as the outside of the house. She hoped that Frank hadn’t noticed. She did not want his pity. When Pearl turned, he appeared not to be looking at the house but at her, and that disoriented her. She could not think what to say, so she pointed to one of the love seats, the damask threadbare, while she seated herself in a small, hard chair, as far from Frank as possible.

He sat down and placed his hat on the sofa beside him. Pearl noticed that he did not carry a walking stick and wondered if he had given it up or simply left it in the automobile. They sat awkwardly a moment, before Pearl found her voice and said, “You are looking well.”

“A little fleshier, and my hair has its share of gray, but I am healthy, thank you.” He laughed easily, and Pearl remembered how he had always been more at ease with her in that room than she had been with him. This meeting would not make his heart flutter as it did hers. “And you,” he added. “You wear the years well yourself. Before, you were merely pretty. Now you are beautiful.”

Pearl felt the color rise in her face, and she touched her cameo—not the old one that had belonged to her mother but the cameo she had purchased in Italy. She had not sold it with her other possessions. It was her one extravagance, and she was glad she’d worn it. Perhaps Frank would notice it instead of the dismal appearance of the house. “It has been a long time since I saw you last. Now I am nearly fifty.” She wondered why she had said such a thing.

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Frank said. “I didn’t mean to. I remember you do not like compliments, but I am only speaking the truth.”

Pearl blushed even more and turned aside for a moment. Then she said in a businesslike tone, because she could not bear for Frank to say another thing to her that was personal, “You said you are here to see me. Is it because you want to talk to me about mining?” She wondered if he heard the sarcasm in her voice.

“It’s that very subject I’ve come about.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed an envelope, which he held out to her. “Your good judgment about mining brought me here.”

Pearl looked at the envelope, but she did not take it until Frank stood and dropped it into her lap. Then she picked it up and opened it and removed a check. She stared at it in disbelief before looking up and saying, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the return of your father’s loan to me. The shares are in your name, so I believe the money is to be repaid to you. I did not include interest, because you still have the shares.”

“But the stock is worthless.”

Frank grinned. “
Was
worthless, but now automobile makers are demanding molybdenum steel, and so are other manufacturers. My partner and I bought up all the claims in the area and have a monopoly, and we are about to announce that the mine will reopen—at far greater capacity than anyone could imagine.” His face lit up the way Charlie’s once had when he talked about mining. “So your
worthless
stock is going to be worth a great deal.”

“How much?” Pearl could not help blurting out the question.

Frank leaned forward as if they were conspirators. “I can’t say, but I would guess that in six months, it will be worth the fifty thousand dollars that it cost when it was issued. And beyond that, who knows? It can only go higher. You are, by the way, a major shareholder, so there will be significant dividends.”

Pearl was stunned. The $50,000 check was more money than she had ever expected to see again. She and her father could live very well on that for the rest of their lives. But another $50,000 worth of stock, as well, with dividends coming in! They would be rich again. “Are you quite sure?” she asked.

Frank laughed. “No, of course I’m not. You have been around mining all your life, so you know that nothing about it is sure. But I believe my figure is a good guess. Molybdenum will be in demand for a great many years, and we have the finest prospect in the country.”

“We?”

Frank smiled at Pearl, and she remembered how white and even his teeth were. “As you know, I had the devil’s own time raising money. The dogs in Georgetown were friendlier than the bankers in New York. But in time, I found a partner. He doesn’t want to be identified, but I’ll give you his name if you promise not to tell your father.”

“Not tell Papa? Why shouldn’t I tell Papa?”

Frank shrugged. “He said he knew your father years ago, and they did not get along.”

“Who is he?” Pearl couldn’t imagine anyone who didn’t like Charlie.

“My partner is Minerals Investment Company. The principal is Will Spaulding. He and Mr. Dumas had a falling-out over something.”

Pearl said nothing.

“Will didn’t know I was acquainted with your father until recently, when Mr. Dumas’s name was mentioned quite by accident. I’d worked with Will for four or five years before the subject of Georgetown came up, and that led to your father’s name—and yours.”

“Mine?” Pearl asked sharply. She did not care to have Frank discuss her. She wondered if Frank had told the man how he had shamed her by breaking their engagement.

“Not long after that, Will became interested in the molybdenum venture. But of course, we had done other investments together. I made sure he knew everything I had done, and not done. I had learned my lesson about pretending to be someone I wasn’t. He said he admired my honesty. We get on famously.”

“Then you have done well?”

“Very well. But of course, I couldn’t come back to Georgetown until the molybdenite claim had proven itself. Even at that, I am premature, but I think your father will have to agree that it will be successful.”

Pearl did not understand. “Papa cares nothing about molybdenum.”

“He cares fifty thousand dollars’ worth.”

The woman rose and turned her back on Frank, fussing with the objects on the piano. Without looking at him, she said, “I believe that was the price he paid you to break off our engagement.”

Frank took a few steps toward her until his hand was on her shoulder. “You may think of it that way, but it’s not the truth.”

“Did you believe I wouldn’t know what the money was for? Papa paid you fifty thousand dollars to stay away from me.” Pearl squared her shoulders and held her head high, hoping Frank would not guess how humiliated she had been—and was still.

“And he never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Frank took a step backward and braced himself against the back of the sofa. “He said he would never allow you to marry me, would stop the wedding at all costs. After he made me see that I could not provide for you, I agreed. Then he loaned me the fifty thousand for the molybdenum project and said if I paid it off and made as much again off molybdenum, I could come back, and he would not stand in the way of our marriage. I had to promise him I wouldn’t tell you. Nor would I ask you to wait. It has taken me almost twenty years, but I have made the money on molybdenum. I thought that over the years, he might have told you.”