Wedding Belles (14 page)

“Well, yes, but…” Gilbert stiffened and his eyes grew wide. “Wait a minute. Why in heaven’s name do they need a lawyer? If they’re so sure we’re running a brothel, why not go straight to the sheriff? If we were really guilty, he could come and arrest us and shut the whole place down. They have to know that.”

“They know Sheriff Carnes would laugh them out of town, I guess. But Althea’s figured out some legal angle to close down the show. Least, that’s what Mama said.” She released a sigh. “I don’t know, Gil. I only know that everything is unraveling. It’s going to be bad enough if the women hear about the accusations against them. If they find out there’s a lawyer involved, we’ll be up a creek without a paddle.”

“Maybe.” He picked up his hammer and took a few more swings at the windowsill. When he finally stopped, he lowered the hammer and glanced her way, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll just have to figure out a way to swim against the current.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll have to beat them at their own game. I’m not talking about letting things get ugly. Just saying we won’t go down without a fight. But we’ll have to be strategic. Ultimately, we don’t just want to wins over the Women’s League; we want to pray and ask the Lord what to do. He’ll show us. Remember the story of David and the mighty Goliath.”

“These women are a force to be reckoned with, for sure,” Lottie agreed. “Who would’ve ever thought women could raise such a ruckus?”

Gilbert paused for a moment then snapped his fingers. “That’s it, Lottie! You’ve given us the answer. We’ll raise a ruckus by asking Augie to put articles in the paper. That’s the answer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He can share our journey every step of the way. Put our story in print. We can also sneak bits of information into the handbills we place around town. We’ll be like young David fighting the mighty warrior, only this time we’ll be defending the honor of Parker Lodge. The honor of my family. What do you think of that?”

“I pray it works.”

“It will, but you’re right. We need to pray.”

“I have been already,” she said. “And I won’t stop.”

“Good. But we’ve got to figure out what to do about the ladies.” Gilbert’s gaze narrowed. “You know what I think? I think those women in the League are jealous of them.”

“Jealous?” The strangest shiver ran down Lottie’s spine as she spoke the word.

“Yes, jealous of the out-of-town ladies. Most are young and pretty and very talented. They’ve swept into town, and the attentions of the men are turned to them.”

“Well, maybe that’s partly it,” she said. “But they’re also put off by how Sharla and Patricia dress and by how much makeup some of the ladies wear. Plus, too, you have to understand that there’s a certain mystique about people in show business. These are theater women, you know. Mama thinks that women with worldly experience are…” She paused to choose the right words. “Well…”

“Loose?” The word came from behind Lottie. She turned to find Fanny standing there. “Is that what your mama thinks, Lottie? That Parker Lodge is overrun with loose women?”

Lottie sighed. “Yes. Unfortunately, yes.”

“This is not the first time I’ve seen this sort of behavior,” Fanny said with the wave of a hand. “And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“So what do we do about it?” Lottie asked. “How do we win them over? And why in the world would they see all of you as a threat, anyway?”

Fanny chuckled. “Oh, honey, you have a lot to learn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Women are far more trusting of men than of other women. They see women—especially smart, younger, talented women—as competition.”

“Competition?” Lottie paused. “I guess I see what you mean.”

“This will blow over in time, I can assure you.” Fanny’s stomach rumbled. “Oh, that reminds me, I really came in here to ask you about lunch. Some of the women are wondering.”

“Ah. We haven’t approached Mama with the pie-parlor idea yet,” Gilbert said, “so she’s none the wiser. She’s fixing sandwiches for lunch. They should be ready soon. But I’m afraid tonight she’s preparing her pot roast and it’s a bit, well…” He sighed.

“I see. Well, I’ll tell the ladies to eat up at lunch,” Fanny said. She wrinkled her nose. “When do you suppose Jeb will take over the cooking?”

“I don’t know,” Lottie said. “If he gets wind of what’s been said about him, he’s liable to stay away. All the men are.”

“Over my empty stomach!” Fanny looked aghast. “You just leave it to me, sweet girl. I’ll get that fella to do the cooking if it’s the last thing I do.”

Lottie nodded but was far too busy watching Gilbert as he headed off without saying good-bye.

Where are you going, Gilbert Parker? And why aren’t you taking me with you?

* * * * *

G
ILBERT MADE THE WALK
to town at double the usual speed. No time to dawdle, what with so much to do. Stopping by the
Mountaineer,
he shared his vision with Augie, who agreed to help and even came up with several article ideas on the spot.

After offering his thanks to his good friend, Gilbert decided to stop by the Stanley Hotel, knowing that the ladies from the Women’s League were meeting for lunch. What he would say to them, he had no idea. Perhaps the Lord would give him the words in the moment. He would head off those judgmental ladies at the pass. Put them in their place. Perhaps, in doing so, he could tell Augie that the articles wouldn’t be necessary.

As he walked, Gilbert thought through the situation from start to finish. Oh, how he hoped Jeb and the other men didn’t catch wind of the latest gossip. Those poor fellas had already faced enough challenges in their lives. They didn’t need the likes of Althea Baker coming after them. And Gilbert needed the men. They were now funding the show with their contributions, after all. With their current level of investment, he had to keep them happy.

Gilbert arrived at the Stanley Hotel at twelve forty-five. From the front lawn he gazed up at the magnificent white hotel—a true architectural wonder. The owner and proprietor, Freelan Stanley, stood on the elevated front porch talking to an older gentleman in a wicker chair. Gilbert made his way up the stairs, willing his racing heart to slow down. When he reached the porch, he waited until Mr. Stanley finished speaking with the hotel guest before clearing his throat.

“Mr. Stanley, sir.”

Mr. Stanley turned his way and extended his hand. “Young Parker. How are you? What brings you into town? Lunching with us?”

“Hadn’t planned on it. I just came by because…” Hmm. How did a fella go about saying that he came to talk some sense into unreasonable women? “I understand the Women’s League is meeting here today.”

“Ah.” Mr. Stanley nodded. “I see. Yes. They arrived about an hour ago, looking quite determined. I didn’t dare interrupt them, even with a friendly hello. They’re meeting in the restaurant. Our chefs have prepared a wonderful salmon croquette, by the way. It’s quite delicious.”

It sounded delicious, of course, but all this chatter was slowing things down.

“You really should stay to lunch,” the hotel owner urged. “The chef has been working all morning in preparation. My mouth has been watering for the past hour.”

“I’ll think about it. But, sir, I—”

“Please do. I’m nearly ready to eat lunch, as well. You’ll join me as my guest.” Mr. Stanley’s conversation shifted to the weather and finally back to where they’d started. “Now, what about that lunch, young man? You getting hungry?”

“I’m starved, and lunch sounds wonderful. But before I can eat a bite, I have to see a woman—or rather, a room full of women—about a matter of some urgency.”

The older man’s brows elevated. “Well, you should have said so right away. Sounds intriguing. Do you need me to come along to protect you? I’ve seen that Women’s League at work. They’re quite formidable.”

“They’ve met their match in me, sir.”

Mr. Stanley laughed. “I do believe they have, young Parker. Well, get in there and give them what for. I’m not sure what they’ve done, but they’ll undo it the moment they see the look of determination in your eye.”

“I hope it’s that easy.”

As he entered the hotel, Gilbert glanced around the expansive foyer. Long, wide hallways with rich dark wood floors caught his eyes. A grand, sweeping staircase. Luxurious carpets. Quite a contrast to Parker Lodge.

He got a little turned around looking for the restaurant, what with so many guests coming and going on all sides. All around him, men, women, and children scurried to and fro. Gilbert couldn’t squelch the feeling of envy rising up in him. When would Parker Lodge see this kind of patronage? Would guests ever show up, or would he and his mother lose everything they’d worked for?

He finally garnered up the courage to enter the dining hall, which he located to his left, just beyond the grand staircase. He would share his heart with these women once and for all. He would make them see the light.

Stepping inside the semidarkened room, he took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. Though women abounded, none of them appeared to be familiar. Gilbert spoke with a waiter, who informed him that the Women’s League had just ended their meeting and their members had left in a hurry. And in a bad mood, according to the waiter. So much for putting a stop to things. Looked like Augie would have to run those articles after all.

After telling Mr. Stanley that he wouldn’t be able to stay for lunch, Gilbert made the lengthy walk back to the lodge, sharing his impassioned speech with the trees. Along the way, he passed Jeb and Phineas at the entrance to Jeb’s property. He paused when they flagged him down.

“Fellas.” He offered what he hoped would look like a confident smile, which neither man returned.

“Guess you heard what all’s bein’ said about us.” Phineas’s face grew tight.

“The lies those Women’s League ladies have been spreadin’ around town have ruined my reputation.” Jeb kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot.

“You can’t listen to ’em, fellas,” Gilbert said. “You know that. And besides, Augie’s going to run some pieces in the paper to let folks know what we’re really up to.”

“Cain’t say as the women will believe it, even if they read it in the paper,” Phineas said. “My sister stopped by this morning.” He crossed his arms. “Nearly took my head off.”

“And my mother is a member of that league.” Jeb’s gaze remained riveted to the toe of his boot. “She’s forbidden me from participatin’ in the melodrama.”

“Your mother has forbidden you?” Gilbert didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this proclamation. Surely a man approaching fifty didn’t need his mama’s say-so to act in a play.

Jeb shrugged. “She’s seventy-two years old. Do you think for one minute I’m gonna cross a seventy-two-year-old woman? Besides, you’ve never seen her when her temper gets to flarin’. It ain’t purty. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“My sister’s the same way,” Phineas said. “This could get ugly quick, if we’re not careful.”

“So what are you fellas saying, exactly?” Gilbert asked. “Are you backing out?”

“Just sayin’ we’re not comin’ to rehearsal until the stink dies down,” Jeb said. “Don’t want to risk it.”

“Not coming?” Gilbert paused. “But how are we going to move forward without you?”

“We’ll have to figure out some way to do this without folks talking.”

“What difference does it make, really?” Gilbert asked. “They’re just a bunch of women with nothing better to do than stir up trouble. You can either play into their hands or link arms with us and beat them at their own game.”

This seemed to get the men’s attention.

“Sounds like you’ve got some sort of plan,” Jeb said. “Out with it.”

“Come tonight and I’ll explain.”

“Just don’t know that it’s worth the risk,” Phineas said again. “My sister tells me the Women’s League has hired a lawyer.”

“Let’s not worry about legalities just yet,” Gilbert said. “I feel sure that lawyer-talk is just a scare tactic anyway. We need to rest easy and keep moving forward with the show. You fellas want your investment to be secure, don’t you?”

“Well, sure.” Phineas’s brow wrinkled. “Don’t want to lose my money.”

“Me neither,” Jeb said, his expression somber. “Especially after, well…” He fell silent.

“Come to rehearsal tonight and let’s get to work. We’ll stick together and put on the best show this valley’s ever seen.”

Gilbert left the duo scratching their heads. Whether or not they would show up for tonight’s rehearsal, well, that was yet to be seen. Until then, he could only pray that the Lord’s will would be done, and that David wouldn’t quiver too badly as he looked the mighty Goliath in the eye.

ELEVEN

T
ROUBLE
B
UBBLES AT
B
IG
T
HOMPSON
R
IVER

Practice makes perfect—at least that’s what we at Parker Lodge are counting on. As we set out to rehearse our upcoming theatrical, which Mrs. Parker has taken to calling
Trouble Bubbles at Big Thompson River
, we are assured of two things: 1) anything that’s worth doing is worth doing well, and 2) working together as a family is the only way to get the job done. So, let trouble bubble. With our arms tightly linked, we will forge ahead, ready and willing to meet all challenges so that our patrons can experience the best possible show.
—Your friends at Parker Lodge

O
N
M
ONDAY EVENING
at ten minutes till seven, Lottie whispered a silent prayer for the Lord’s favor then carried her script into the dining hall at Parker Lodge to set up for their first melodrama rehearsal. Until the very last moment, she didn’t know for sure if the men would come.

Chauncy showed up first, God bless him, followed shortly by Augie, who seemed more enamored with the ladies than bothered by the latest gossip in town. As usual, he wore his finest clothes and had even waxed his mustache for the occasion. He looked the part of Earl E. Bird, the show’s notorious villain, no doubt about it. Well, except for the huge smile on his face every time he glanced at a couple of the ladies.

Not that all of them had smiles on their faces. Fanny and several of the others still grumbled about the pot roast they’d eaten— er, tried to eat—for dinner. Lottie didn’t blame them for voicing their complaints aloud. Maybe, if all went well tonight, she could ask Jeb about taking over as chef. If he showed up for rehearsal, anyway.