With crossed arms, Scott leaned against the hallway wall while staring at their closed hotel room door. Kinsey’s need for “elbow room” in order to freshen up for the evening meal justified his banishment.
‘Ah...ye be knowin’ a watched pot is slow to boil, ScottyGarrett.’
“Time waits for no man, Winifred.” Pulling out his pocket watch, he glanced at the hour. “But evidently, the little lass believes she has Father Time wrapped around her wee finger.” Although there may be one father Kinsey questioned her influence over.
*******
The champagne’s journey between the room’s two occupants was well-established when his cousin's concern for her future surfaced. “Who do you think will be meeting us at the train station in Stockton?”
Her tone delivered a casual inquiry, but slight worry reflected in Kinsey’s eyes. “Well…” Pausing to sip the champagne enhanced the intrigue. “My father planned to meet me at the train station. I assume he’s keeping with our agenda of a fine meal and a good night’s sleep in town before the trip home. I don’t see where that would change.” Scott offered the bottle to his cousin. “He’s had plenty of time to ponder over the...situation - make new arrangements now that he’ll be greeting both of us.”
Kinsey accepted the champagne but only examined a fleck of wax still adhered to the bottle’s neck. “How upset will Murdoch be with me?”
“That question, young lady, would have served better if asked before exiting under the cover of darkness.”
Kinsey’s apprehensive posture said reality couldn’t compete with the severe punishments his little cousin’s imagination was conjuring up at this moment - and he had no intentions to stifle the young lady’s creative mind.
Truth be told, Kinsey’s concern should be placed on someone else. His father reluctantly admired her adventurous, independent streak he called, “Garrett Guts.” These guts inspired Murdoch’s young wife to venture westward and his oldest son to take on a new future. Guessing at the chastisement waiting for Kinsey, Scott put his money on a lengthy lecture, suspended travel plans and an endless list of chores - starting with whitewashing the chicken coop - a Murdoch favorite.
“So tell me, Freckles, how was San Francisco? Did Lucy Stone fill up a bathtub and walk on water?”
“It was extraordinary!” Kinsey’s mood immediately brightened. Champagne was sipped and passed. “Her speeches were an inspiration to every female present in the lecture hall. So much needs to be done to facilitate change!”
“And Johnny? He proved to be an attentive escort?” While in Boston, Scott received a telegram from his younger brother - FILLY JUMPED FENCE LASSOED CORRALLED BRANDED. Now, he hoped to fish for more details.
“Yes. Good. Unreasonable at times but fine nonetheless.”
Unreasonable - a bite on his imaginary line. “Was there a problem?” The complimentary bottle was extended with concern.
“Well...Johnny insisted I have a curfew. We all know a woman my age having a curfew is absurd. So, to prove a point, I gave him the slip.” Kinsey winked and sipped.
FILLY JUMPED FENCE. Scott smiled. Time to pull in the catch. “Where did you slip off too?”
“Oh, not far - a little cafe I had spotted earlier. I was having an after dinner refreshment with two ladies I recognized from the lecture when Johnny busted in and practically carried me out of the establishment -”
LASSOED.
“And back to my room.”
CORRALLED.
“I must say it was a humiliating experience and totally uncalled for.”
BRANDED. Scott guessed Kinsey’s evening had ended with Johnny delivering a solid swat to her bustle.
“I told him if he was such a good tracker why did it take him over an hour to find me?”
Scott relieved his cousin of the bottle to partake of a drink - hiding his smile. Yep. Branded, indeed. Then she turned around and, in the middle of the night, snuck out under Johnny’s nose for the second time, resulting in his unsuccessful ride to Stockton. No. It was wasn’t his father Miss Furlong needed to worry about when she set foot back on Lancer land.
*******
Scott resisted checking the time - again. Instead, he approached the barrier between him and the person promoting his hunger pains. “Kinsey?”
“Yes...darling?”
Scott rolled his eyes. Darling. The torture begins. “Our dinner reservation draws near...my love.” Silence. “Will my obedient wife be joining me?”
“Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.”
Turning around, Scott discovered a total stranger. “Sir?”
The older gentleman happily repeated himself. “Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.”
Correction. An enlightened total stranger willing to share his thoughts on the fairer sex.
The older gentleman’s tutelage continued. “Those be Benjamin Franklin’s words of wisdom. Old Ben certainly knew the worrisome ways of women.”
“Yes.” Scott nodded in agreement. “Yes, he did know women. Several. Dozen. Intimately.”
“He was one of this great country’s founding fathers, young man.” Like a steam engine, the indignant hotel guest huffed to the room next to Scott’s. “Show some respect.” The zealous patriot disappeared with a slammed door simultaneously with the squeak of an opening one.
“What are you doing out here?” Kinsey glanced down the hallway.
“Meeting our neighbors - making friends.”
As the evening temperature dropped, the thought of maneuvering through Omaha’s muddy streets with his cousin on his arm and a shared bottle of champagne on their empty stomachs wasn't appealing. Grateful for the hotel’s restaurant, Scott had secured reservations during his exile. Mindful of the champagne-induced devilish grin displayed on Kinsey’s face, he had made a wise choice. Hopefully, she would heed his request when out in public she’s the pious, reserved and quiet -
“Missus Lancer!”
Scott’s prayer to pass unnoticed by the front desk’s watchful eye went unanswered. Evidently, Winnie had chosen not to put in a good word with the Lord on this one. She found the scenario too entertaining.
“Darling,” Kinsey’s eyes danced. “The clerk is calling my name. We mustn't be rude. A moment to say hello?” Against his better judgment, Scott rerouted toward the front desk.
“Missus Lancer...I believe we have never been formally introduced.”
“Why, you must be Mister Winston.” The delicate flower offered her hand. “My husband speaks highly of your attention to a guest’s every need and want. May I say, sir, it is a pleasure to be in the strong, capable hands of a man such as yourself.”
It was immediately apparent quiet and reserved were being ignored.
Winston, puffed up with pride, presented a row of teeth from ear to ear. “The pleasure to serve my guests is all mine, my dear woman. And the room’s accommodations are to your liking?”
Kinsey gushed out her compliment. “Oh yes! The beds are quite bouncy with very little squeak. Fine attributes, wouldn’t you agree?”
Obviously pious had been taken off the table to join quiet and reserved.
Scott blessed the front desk clerk with a smile and a nod - certain the probability of Missus Winston receiving a bottle of champagne from her husband tonight was now quite good.
While being seated at their table, Scott decided getting even was a necessity. Childish? Yes. Adding fuel to the fire? Unavoidable. Fun? Most definitely.
“Madame.” The waiter appeared holding menus and offered one to Kinsey.
“I'll be ordering for Missus Lancer.” The menu passed over his cousin’s head and into his outstretched hand. “My wife has little experience with dining out and finds the various courses and entrées quite confusing. Don’t you, my love?” Scott focused his attention on the evening’s offerings - unable to make eye contact with his little cousin. He didn’t need to. He felt her stare searing a hole into his forehead.
“Very good, sir.” The waiter nodded. “Our extensive menu can be quite overwhelming for the faint of heart.”
Faint of heart. Scott struggled to maintain proper decorum. “Let’s see...the young lady will have the gumbo, veal cutlets with madeira sauce, marrow squash and dressed lettuce.”
“Excellent choices, sir.” The waiter smiled at Kinsey confirming her husband knew best. “And for the gentleman?”
“This gentleman will enjoy your finest porterhouse steak - medium rare - with London club sauce, mashed potatoes, and dressed tomatoes.”
“Again, excellent choices. And may I suggest for dessert two slices of our famous apple pie?”
Scott nodded, dimples accenting his grin. “If two scoops of vanilla ice cream go with the suggestion then you have yourself a deal! And for drinks -”
“A bottle of G. H. Mumm.” Kinsey’s request halted the dinner order. “The Gold Seal, if available.”
The waiter raised an eyebrow. “Madame has exquisite taste in champagne.” Striving for diplomacy, he whispered to Scott. “Sir, the lady has chosen one of our higher priced champagnes. I’m certain she is unaware of what she’s done and of the possible dilemma she may have created.”
Touché, little one. Scott raised his hand. “Oh yes, she’s completely clueless.” Sarcasm kissed the last word. “No harm done - it’s fine. Nothing’s too good for Missus Lancer.”
“Ah! Our honeymoon couple. Of course.” The waiter quickly examined his notes and confirmed with a nod. “Your dinner will be served shortly.” Retrieving his menus, the man scurried off.
With arms folded across his chest, Scott sat back to watch his cousin mimic his movements. “The Gold Seal, if available?”
“She’s completely clueless?”
Scott held up crossed fingers - a gesture from his childhood. “Can we call a truce before this gets so expensive we’re washing dishes to pay the bill?”
Crossed fingers from his dinner companion accompanied her smile. “Truce.” Kinsey glanced about and then spoke as if revealing a dark secret. “I think not many newlyweds visit Omaha, Nebraska. We appear to be a commodity.”
“Agreed. I'm sure it’s not at the top of your list.”
“Paris.” Kinsey’s breathless delivery of the word warmed Scott’s heart. “Paris is at the top of my list.”
“It’s a beautiful city.”
“You’ve been there?! Is it romantic?”
During the course of their meal, Scott shared his experience of visiting Paris after he had returned from the war. Kinsey’s endless supply of questions challenged Scott’s memory on the French cuisine, the clothes, the cabarets, the people he met - which led to an interrogation focused on the ladies he met.
“Were the young ladies...risqué?”
“None of your business.”
“Were the bedroom windows difficult to manage?”
“Enough.”
The apple pie arrived with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. It appeared champagne wasn't the only perk to being newly married at the Grand Central Hotel. Between bites of sugary apples, Scott’s attention turned to a gentleman and his violin providing entertainment for the dinner guests. Throughout the evening, lively reels, solemn ballads, and soft lullabies floated above muffled conversations as the violinist strolled among the tables - seeking suggestions. A patriotic number was the current selection - Scott smiled to see their neighbor had requested the tune.
“And what can I play for you this evening, madame?”
“Oh.” Startled, it appeared Kinsey’s mind had gone blank, a feat Scott thought impossible. “Wait. There is one musical piece I’ve not heard for some time.”
“Tell me the title. Perhaps I know it.”
“Pachelbel’s Canon.”
The gentleman stood erect, placed the violin under his chin and began to play. The eloquent classical melody drifted among the guests - gathering them together. Each variation of the repeated stanzas grew more passionate - taking the audience on an emotional journey. Scott was in awe as The Grand Central Hotel dining room transformed into the Boston Music Hall. No one spoke but simply enjoyed the moment which ended too soon. Applause broke out as the final note faded.
“I can’t thank you enough, sir.” Kinsey’s voice cracked as she reached for Scott’s hand. “Extraordinary.”
“The honor is mine, young lady. Your request - a pleasure.” The violinist drifted off and soon Tennessee Reel had the guests tapping their toes.
*******
Scott indulged in an after-dinner cigar to give Kinsey a head start on her bedtime preparations. When a soft knock on the door didn’t produce a reply he slowly peeked in to spy her in bed. At least he thought she was in there amongst the heap of quilts and pillows. A slight movement stopped him from giving the pile a poke. Moving behind the blanket wall, Scott reached out and extinguished the light.
“What are you doing?” Slight panic carried his little cousin’s question to his side of the room.
“Going to bed...finally.”
“You put out the lamp.”
“That’s what most people do before they retire. Don’t tell me you're afraid to sleep in the dark” Scott regretted his condescending tone but - dammit - he was exhausted.
“Of course not. That would be childish.”
*******
Kinsey’s first strangled cry happened soon after midnight.
Comments