Chapter Nine
Over the next two weeks, Eddy settled into a routine. She got up at four o’clock every morning to prepare breakfast for her two favorite boarders, Gabe Horne and August Williams, and at eight silently served what was left to the oh so important Whitman Brown. True to their promises, the dining room patrons began spreading the word about her great cooking, and more and more people began showing up on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. She was delighted with the positive response and how nice everyone was to her. Zeke was eating there on a regular basis as well, but he respectfully maintained his distance, as if he didn’t want to disturb her while she was working, and as if he was trying to gather his courage to approach her about seeing her outside of the dining room. The orphanage fund-raiser plans were moving forward, they’d set the date for next month and the auction would be held at the mansion. She’d bumped into Rhine a few times at the orphanage and although they both recognized that what lay between them had not dissipated, they chose not to acknowledge it or speak about it and that suited Eddy just fine.
“A couple of the men have asked if you have a sweetheart,” Sylvia said one evening. Vera was in the kitchen as well. The seamstress often ate her evening meal with Sylvia and Eddy.
Eddy, washing dishes, found that amusing. “I hope you told them no, and that I’m not going to be around Virginia City long enough to encourage one.”
“Now, now. Don’t be too hasty. Zeke’s becoming a regular. You never know.”
Vera said, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, but we must get you better clothing, my dear. You’ve been wearing that same skirt since you arrived.”
Not enjoying having her poverty pointed out, her chin rose. “It’s the only one I have.”
“Then we need to fix that.”
“I don’t have money to waste on frills.”
“Who said anything about you paying, and having more than one skirt isn’t considered frivolous. You’re representing Sylvie in that dining room and you need you to be better dressed.”
Keeping a lid on her temper, Eddy looked over at Sylvie, who, glaring at her friend, said, “Forgive her, Eddy. Vera sometimes doesn’t think before she speaks.”
Instantly contrite, Vera dropped her head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Eddy. Sylvia’s right. I just want you to have the respect you deserve. Everyone’s talking about your great cooking.”
“And that’s all I need them to talk about.” She dried the last dish and walked out of the kitchen door. She’d always had a temper, and rather than treat Vera to piece of it she took a seat outside. She didn’t need reminding about her meager wardrobe. Every morning when she got out of bed and had to don the same skirt and blouse she’d washed out the night before, she told herself it didn’t matter, but it did. Before the death of her parents, her father had provided well for his family. There hadn’t been money to waste on luxurious things, but she’d had nice gloves and shoes to wear on special occasions. There’d been books and oranges for Christmas. The only nice thing she still possessed was her mother’s locket. Sylvia paid well, but Eddy still had to use some of it for her room and board, and as she’d noted before, every extra penny went into her California fund.
When she went back inside the kitchen, Sylvie and Vera were no longer there, so she began putting together the dry ingredients for the morning’s biscuits.
“Eddy?”
She turned to see Vera in the doorway. “Yes?” Her voice was cool.
“I came in to offer my sincerest apologies for hurting your feelings. As Sylvie said, I don’t think sometimes, but I truly would like for us to be friends. Can you forgive me?”
Although Eddy had a temper, she wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and Vera did appear sincere. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you. I would like to propose something, and I want you to hear me out.”
Eddy waited.
“When I visited San Francisco a few weeks back there was a seamstress shop that provided little tea cakes and candies to its customers while they waited for their fittings. Although I am the leading seamstress in Virginia City, I’d like to up the ante a bit, just to keep the competition on their heels. Would you have the time to make me tea cakes maybe once or twice a week? I’d pay you of course, but I’d also like to pay you by making you a few skirts and blouses.”
Eddy scanned her face. It was very apparent that Vera was trying to broach that last part as delicately as possible. Eddy had her pride, but she wasn’t a fool. She was as tired of wearing her well-worn skirt and blouse as Vera was of seeing her in them, so she smiled. “I’d love to. How many cakes do you think you’ll be needing?”
Rhine spent his evening at the city council meeting. This one was open to the public and it had been a boisterous one. The proposal to implement the vice tax came up for a vote. Natalie’s father Lyman cast the deciding tie-breaking vote that sent the proposal down to defeat, thus giving victory to men like Rhine, McFadden, and the other saloon owners. A round of shouting, threats, and fist shaking from the measure’s supporters followed, but it didn’t change anything. After the meeting adjourned, Rhine was glad to return to the noisy but less angry confines of his saloon.
Kent nodded a greeting as Rhine approached. “How’d the meeting go?”
“We’re still in business, that’s all I can say. What are we serving tonight?”
“Lamb. Jim’s in the kitchen. Wants to talk to you.”
The hungry Rhine nodded and headed for the kitchen. He found Jim inside peeling and slicing potatoes for the Saratoga chips the customers were so fond of.
“Evening, Jim. Kent said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes. We have to change the Thursday menu.”
“Why?”