The Last Honest Seamstress (24 page)

She squeezed her legs together, trying to push away the tingles, frustrated and without relief. Don't cry, oh, don't cry. Blast that whore, and blast him! What was his connection to Lou? Oh blast! She clenched herself tighter, trying to sleep.

Fayth was up early the next morning, pounding away at her sewing machine. Pumping the treadle. In and out. She would finish this dress for Lou and be done with her. And if Lou so much as hinted at her sewing a dress for her new girl, Fayth would . . .

Well, she felt like slapping Lou at the thought. What a horrendous night it had been.
 

"Fayth." The Captain called her name from the door, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He looked contrite.
 

She felt like guilt itself. What did she do now? What could she say?
 

He walked over to her. She stopped pumping. The noisy clacking ceased.

"Fayth, about last night—"

"Let's not talk about it. It's forgotten."

"Fayth, I'm sorry." Why did he have to apologize, sound contrite, look genuine?

"It's all right." She smiled.

"Peace offering." He handed her the paper folded open to an article. "Something to distract you from my sins." He possessed an uncanny knack for touching her with his thoughtfulness. No man had apologized to her before. Not Father, and certainly not Drew.

Fayth scanned the article. "The city's doing what!" Fayth's heart pounded with both anger and fear.
 

The Captain seated himself on the sofa. Olive jumped into his lap. "They're regrading Washington, Main, and Jackson. Raising them by anywhere from eight to twenty feet higher than their pre-fire levels, extending the impact of the ordinance passed in July to all streets south of Yesler." The Captain scratched Olive behind the ears.

"My building is nearly complete. How can they do this to us?"

"The Council is under Henry Yesler's thumb; you know that. They bowed to pressure by him not to raise the streets. People have been making a fuss at City Hall since July. They want the streets raised to fix the sewers. I guess our esteemed councilmen decided their political future was more important than Yesler's opinions. In retrospect, we should have waited until the fray was over before we started building."

"Waited how long, an interminable amount of time? The decision could have gone the other way just as well." She rose and stood in front of the window, pausing to stare out over the Sound.

"At least you see the folly of hindsight and regret," Con said. "We did what any good businessman does. We made a decision and proceeded according to the regulations of the minute.

"Look at it this way, now you've got a basement. You build your top floor over again, and nothing's lost. We're more fortunate than many. Several businesses have already completed their ornate first floor entrances. We've been warned in time to make ours simple and save the more elaborate decoration for the new street level entrance. The Council claims they'll maintain a series of underground walks to service businesses that have already built up. And they're promising openings and ladders at the new sidewalk level for access."

She tapped her foot, angry with the Council. The Captain's diversion proved effective. She now felt too distracted to suffer any embarrassment over last night, and too frightened. Everything shook the security of her business. Why was life so difficult?
 

"I'll be out hundreds of dollars! This means the addition of another complete story. I can't even guess at an estimate."

"You don't have to. I heard rumors a few days ago. I've already got my man working one up."

"And if I can't afford it?"

"We either afford it, or find a way to."

Why were men always so matter-of-fact? She wanted so much to trust him, to let him take care of her. But she didn't dare. "My business is my security."

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry to hear that—I thought I was." His tone was light, but he studied her carefully. And though her heart pounded, she tried to give no emotion away.

"Will you be serious a minute? The shop is the only thing I have any control over. Money is its lifeline and something I have none too much of since that blasted fire. I'm certain Mr. Finn won't lend me another cent." Why did this have to happen now? She was so tired of struggling.

"I have sources. I'll get you the money."

Could he really do that? She wanted to trust him. If only she hadn't seen him with that woman. "How does it affect the wharf?"

"Doesn't. We'll be open for business in a little over a week. The warehouse will be roofed a few days after." He laughed in his warm, rich manner and stood up. She was forgiven. "The sun's out today. I'd say it's a fine day for a stroll."

She shot him a look that told him what she thought—that he was crazy. "Yesterday's rains were near record. The streets will be muddy."

"Yes, the rain!"

"You're the only one that's happy about it. The rain came too late for the rest of us."

"Me, too. But given the fire, it helped me out. I'm not up and running again yet, but some of my fine competitors are. Unfortunately for them, their warehouses weren't roofed yesterday when the rain hit. They're out a pile of money in lost goods, while I . . ."
 

He shrugged good-humoredly, then set Olive down and stood.

"I thought you were a humanitarian."

"I am, but as they say, business is business."
 

She followed him into the entry. "Do things always go your way, Captain?"

He handed her the parasol he had bought for her. "Not always." His voice was soft and his look searching.
 

He spoke of last night. She knew he did. She didn't know what to say.
 

Then he smiled "Now let's go. There are sights you'll want to see." He held the door open and waved her out.

Fayth walked along with quick strides, trying to stay abreast of the Captain with his long gait, trying not to perspire in the humid heat. Her irritation at the Council drained away as they walked along, replaced by other thoughts. She realized that had been his intent. She did appreciate him. He bore her ill-temper well. If only . . .

"You're unflappable, you know that?" She stepped over a puddle. "I suppose that's why you're the captain."

"I'm the captain because I own the boat."

"Does anything get under your skin?"

His pause was evident. "Not much."

They rounded the corner. Fayth's new construction became visible down the block. She gently tugged her narrow skirt up so she could walk faster.

"The rain slowed construction. They haven't accomplished as much as they did earlier in the week." She reached the easement in front of her property. Construction workers crawled over the property, sloshing through mud and puddles to accomplish their tasks. Similar workmen occupied properties all down the street. Until Seattle was rebuilt they would have little rest. Sunday meant nothing but another day for labor.

Fayth scanned her property, taking in the tiny improvements made since her last visit. The sound of a carriage coming down the street, accompanied in its procession by lewd catcalls, diverted Fayth's attention.
 

Lou Gramm's new carriage glinted in the sun as it made its way slowly down the street. Each of her girls sat regally, exhibiting the established manners of a finishing school. At first glance they might have been a family out for a ride.
 

They waved politely at the men, but Fayth knew these men were not the kind of high-paying clientele Lou was out to catch today. She saw the woman, her nemesis. Oh, how she hated her!
Stay calm.
The brazen thing blew kisses to the Captain and waved familiarly. Fayth clenched her fists and watched him closely, but he gave no returning gesture, just frowned almost imperceptibly. He was the class of man the girls trolled for, and it angered her that they should encourage him with her standing right beside him. Their boldness revealed their true nature.

"You did too good of a job on those, darling," the Captain said.

Fayth felt all too aware of the physical distance between them. She stepped in closer to him, protecting her territory.

"You ought to take a clue from the ladies and advertise. People should know that you made those delectable gowns. "

Fayth frowned at him. "I’d be ruined if they did.”

He laughed suddenly. "You need a sign. One with something like,
fashionable dressmaker,
printed in large letters."

Fayth didn't understand the humor in his voice.

"If the looks of the men up and down the street are any indication, Miss Gramm's establishment is going to be very busy tonight," he said.

"Wonderful." Fayth turned back to look at her building. The sooner she removed herself from Lou's control, the better.

"You need more money so soon, Con?" Lou Gramm sat regally straight, perched at the front of her chair in her office in her beautifully rebuilt parlor house, imitating a lady of quality. Her girls never saw her shoulders so much as brush a chair back. But then, they hadn't seen her in her own whoring days, when she'd seldom been off her back. These days she preferred the quiet role of madam. She'd always been an astute businesswoman, and now, in her early thirties, she was well past yearning for the wildness of youth. Exterior dignity suited her.

She looked Con straight in the eye, guessing they were nearly the same age. He was tall. Successful. Appealing. His exquisite hazel eyes leapt with great passion, especially when he spoke of business. Pity that he didn't patronize her house. Though she lamented the loss of business, he had her grudging respect.

Con sat back in his chair. "You know about the latest city ordinance requiring a regrade of the streets. We're no different from anyone else. It's costing us."
 

In the background, glasses tinkled and men's conversations joined together to form the comforting noise of a busy establishment.
 

"Oh, the boys! They allowed Mr. Yesler to block the regrading project for far too long. I'm glad they got up the balls to tell him to go to hell." Lou smiled sweetly.
 

Many of the
boys
to whom she referred, city councilmen and men of power, occupied tables surrounding their own. The bar owners had raised such a fuss that the ban on liquor sales had recently been lifted. A begrudging city council finally admitted that the immediate danger to the city posed by alcohol-induced rowdiness was past.
 

Lou had been smart enough to be one of the first to apply for the newly issued licenses. Now she served alcohol to many of the city's elite and powerful throughout the day, often free of charge. If they were tempted into sampling some of her girls' lucrative nighttime wares, that was not a bad thing either. Her establishment had become so popular, in just the last few days, that it had been nicknamed the second city hall. "Has Jacob sent you with another note of reference?"

Con didn't waver under her inquiry. He took a sip of beer before answering. The man was a wonder with a poker face. "I didn't bother with it this time, but I can get one if it would ease your mind."

"Oh, Con, how polite you are! I know I can trust you. What are you offering as collateral?"

"A greater share of the
Aurnia
." He set his beer down.

"No, I want a share of Fayth's little shop."

"This doesn't concern her."

"But this loan is for
her
business, isn't it? I can't in good conscience allow you to take the risk for her. The city ordinances don't affect the wharf. You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Con?"

"Her business is not mine to offer. I'm willing to assume the risk."

"You're her husband. Of course, it's yours. But Con, you're too fine a man to risk all you have for a woman. We aren't worth it in the long run." Lou paused in thought. "If the payments on Fayth's part of the debt fall behind, I can get payment in dressmaking services. What use do I have for a boat?" She held out her hand. He realized he was beaten. She saw it in his face. Maybe he wasn't so good with a poker face, after all.
 

He reached across the table and shook her hand. "Deal."

As Con arrived home, a red-faced man scurried down the walk, nearly bowling Con over as he stopped to read the new, neatly painted sign freshly installed at the end of the walk to his house, Fashionable Dressmaking.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself, "Fayth, what have you done?"
 

His musings were interrupted by Fayth, who yelled after the man from the front door. A pair of scissors glinted dangerously over her head.

"And don't ever come back!" Fayth screamed.

Con jogged the length of the walk in several quick strides and disarmed his angry wife. "I hope you don't mean me?"

"That man had the audacity to come to my home and solicit . . ." She blushed deep scarlet as her voice trailed off. "How dare he!"
 

"What can you expect with a sign like that out front? Whatever possessed you?"