Intimate Strangers Affair Read online

  “And cocaine. Very refreshing,” Miguel whispered into my ear.

  My eyes widened with horror. Cocaine? From the coca plant? This was just like Coca-Cola. I’d been poisoned! I wondered where I could politely rinse out my mouth and spit. Maybe behind that potted palm. I considered the idea as the men resumed their conversation.

  “And the feds wanted to buy my munitions with greenbacks. Paper money.” Christopher’s gray side whiskers shook with righteous indignation. “Hah! I can hardly believe that. Can you believe that? What good are those?”

  “Only good enough to wipe your arse with. Like that newfangled Scott tissue paper. Pardon me, ladies, but I’m a plain-speaking man. I call it how I see it. What’s the point? Printing up money like they were newspapers. Boosts the circulation, but lowers the value. It’s no good,” said a young cigar-stoking gentleman standing next to me. “No good at all. Isn’t that right, Don Miguel?”

  “You would know, Bill.”

  I added, “After all, you’re a banker.”

  Looking glum, William Sherman puffed on his cigar some more. “Not for long at this rate. Too much politics. I may yet go back to the army. Things were simpler there. At least there you know when you’re fighting a battle and which side you’re on. Everyone wears their true colors there. Not like this den of thieves.”

  Christopher harrumphed like a gaseous walrus. “Now, now. None of that, Bill. We’re all Californians here. I may be born and raised in Virginia, but this is where I’m rooted. This is my home now. I take no sides.”

  So you can profit by selling to both sides, I thought cynically. I’d done my share of eavesdropping tonight. War was good business for an iron foundry and munitions manufacturer. The best kind of business. And if talk were true, then Christopher B. Calhoun was making out like a bandit. He didn’t wear blue or gray, the only color he pledged allegiance to was the color of gold. Pure gold.

  The men argued for a bit longer before Sherman held up his hands as if surrendering. “All right, all right, point your guns elsewhere. My apologies. No more politics tonight. Only I will say this as your friend first, and a banker second, a Union man last of all. It’s a bad deal. Don’t do it, Christopher. Paper’s no good, it won’t last. Settle only for hard currency. That’s my best advice. Excuse me. Ma’am.” He bowed to me, then to a dark-eyed woman of middle years who just joined us.

  She was preceded by a puff of honeysuckle perfume and the genteel swish-swish of her petticoats and hoops. Clearly, she knew how to walk in those contraptions so that she seemed like a flower floating in a stream instead of an elephant garrumphing through the ballroom like me. Her glossy dark brown hair was elegantly coiled and decorated with fresh mauve roses that seemed to withstand even this heat. And her matching silk gown was unwrinkled perfection. I envied her grace. Completely.

  “My dears, it looks serious over here. Absolutely serious. Like a meeting of Calvinist preachers, all sin-bashing and mortification of the flesh. Whatever are y’all talking about? Do tell.” She offered her gloved hand to Christopher, who dutifully bowed over it and kissed it.

  “May I present my wife, Margaret LaRue Calhoun of the Louisiana LaRue’s. My darling, you know Don Miguel.”

  “Of course,” she murmured sweetly over her fan. “A real pleasure, to see you…again.”

  The innuendo of her words was as sweetly sickly heavy as her perfume. Miguel seemed to ignore it, saying nothing. He only nodded a fraction.

  “And this is Miss Nathalie Arnaud,” Christopher continued grandly.

  As Margaret looked from Don Miguel to me, something sharpened in those wide brown eyes. Her thick mink eyelashes fluttered down. By the time they fluttered up again, her gaze had turned all sugary once more. She smiled brightly. “Why, Miss Arnaud. How do you do? My, you are a tall one. I feel positively dwarfed in comparison. Positively.”

  “Vitamins and exercise. You must try it sometime,” I murmured, feeling even more awkward and gawky all of a sudden. I didn’t think it was possible.

  “Perhaps I shall,” she seemed a little surprised by my remark, but approving. “Now whatever were you discussing? You were all so gloomy and sober.”

  Christopher chuckled low so that the folds under his chin and his belly quivered like a large blancmange. He gave her a husbandly kiss on the cheek. “Just business, dear. No need to worry about that.”

  “Business? Oh! I’ll leave that to men. I cannot be bothered with that nasty word. It’s too much for me.”

  Turning to me, Christopher said, “Margaret does have her little hobbies. Her good works, she calls it. Why, she almost runs the city as it is. Next thing we know, she’ll be mayor of San Francisco.”

  “Christopher, I do believe you are joshing me. Mayor! Of a whole city? My goodness gracious. Whatever for?” She snapped her fan shut and thumped it against her husband, square on his brocade vest. “You, silly man.”

  “Silly, indeed. Women can’t even vote,” I added. “We must be guided in these matters by our men. Too much thinking. Withers the female organs, you know. Renders us sterile.”

  “Did you read that somewhere?” Miguel asked solemnly.

  “No, no, I don’t read. I never read. That’s bad for you, too. Almost as bad as thinking.”

  “Really!” Margaret gasped. “Imagine that. It’s a public hazard, it must be stopped. Right now. This instant. No ladies must think. None of us. I declare a holiday. A moratorium. Absolutely no thinking. Whatsoever.”

  “Just dancing. And good works,” I said.

  “Yes, my good works. I’m always looking for projects. Like Clara Barton, you know. We’ve been cutting up our old petticoats and folding them into bandages. Very quaint.” She linked her arm with me as if we were now bosom buddies. We walked a little away from the men, or rather, she led and I followed, scaling back my natural wide stride to her dainty steps.

  “But everyone’s doing bandages now. Just everyone. Why, I just think we all need to do something different. Something that captures the imagination. Do you have any ideas?”

  I shook my head, then stopped suddenly when I felt a jeweled pin shift. The coil of hair it was holding up began to loosen. Damn!

  Margaret’s eyes moved unerringly to the spot. Her lips twitched. “I do believe we must move on. I was thinking about other projects. Like that clinic, my dear. The Infirmary for Women and Children. A pity it’s been closed for so long.”

  “The clinic?” James’s clinic? I couldn’t help myself. My arm jerked under hers. She couldn’t know about me, could she? How could she know I was a doctor? Maybe she didn’t know.

  Margaret patted my arm. “There, there. I’m not looking for patients. Just someone to run it. Someone with a good head on her shoulders and a large heart. Why, that someone could very well be you. We have the funds, we just need the right person.”

  “Me?” Astonished, I could only look at her. What a perfect job. I knew my friends had struggled after graduation. Training was hard, but actually working as a physician was much harder. Many had ended up moving to Europe and working there instead. But maybe there was a way to really do this and stay near Catherine and James, the closest thing I had to a family and home. And with influential sponsors like Margaret, I could afford to take care of the patients I really wanted to, the ones who had no place else to go. Quality care without skimping or worrying about tomorrow’s bills. It was too good to be true. Tempting, very tempting.

  “Come, come. You must have a little time to spare. Surely, Don Miguel doesn’t keep you busy all the time. All day and all night. Not in my experience anyway.”

  Opening her fan again, she simpered behind it. Her eyes looked triumphantly at me as if she were savoring a secret that only she knew. It wasn’t a cruel look or an angry one, but somehow it hurt all the same. There was something between her and Don Miguel, and she was letting me know. Nothing subtle about it. It was as plain as a raging case of measles. And just like measles, that sinking feeling spread all over my body. There wasn’t a
whole lot I could do about it. Not even one of my teas could help the hurt inside. I felt completely out of my depth as we continued our circuit around the ballroom. We passed the potted palms, and the string quartet that was just tuning up after their break.

  “Now, I just hope you haven’t taken offense,” Margaret continued without looking at me. “Lord, no. We’re both women of the world, Nathalie. I knew it from the moment I met you. I said to myself, ‘Margaret LaRue, there’s another lady like you with steel in her spine instead of her corset. Another lady who knows what she wants and just goes right out and gets it’. Nothing wrong with that, life isn’t like any empty dance card. You can’t wait for opportunities to come to you, or you’ll be a wallflower for all of your pitiful little ole life. So you saw your chance with Don Miguel. I wish you well. He’s not an easy one. What do you Westerners say? He’s a bull steer. Tough to wrangle with, even harder to bring his head down. No lady is going to brand that man for her own. Many have tried. Lord knows I’ve tried…but he’s too tough. He’s maybe easy on the eye, mmm…hmmm, but not to my taste.”

  Taste? Now I felt really sick inside. It swelled up inside me, making my throat tight. I choked out, “You don’t think so?”

  “Why, no. Absolutely not. I’ll give you a little piece of womanly advice.” She tilted her fan so that it screened us from the rest of the room.

  Oh, no. I had a feeling that I didn’t want to hear what she had to say, but I was completely trapped between the wall and Margaret.

  Her rouged lips twisted into a smile that wasn’t pretty. “You know what they say about not changing a horse in the middle of a stream? It isn’t true. You can. You can and be better off for it. You look smart, so act smart. Pick someone easier to work, someone like my Christopher. It’s better to be an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave. I could help you out, I could introduce you to any number of men here. Old men. Wonderful old men. One hand in the bank, one foot in the grave.”

  We stopped near the entrance of the card room. The liveried footman opened the door, and I could hear someone saying, “Gentlemen, place your bets.” Chips clink-chinked on the table, then cards ruffled. The door closed again on the shouts of triumph or disgust.

  “Do you gamble, Nathalie?”

  I shook my head. There were enough gamblers in the Arnaud family as it was. I’d seen the consequences, and I wasn’t interested.

  Closing her fan again, Margaret looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why, you surprise me. Perhaps I did misjudge you after all, and I sincerely apologize if I did. No matter, my dear. If you don’t gamble, you should give it a try some time. High stakes, neck, or nothing. You think about my offer, you hear?” And with that, she left me alone in the crowd, the stench of honeysuckle vaguely lingering behind her.

  I stood there stupidly, still feeling a little nauseated. I felt as if I’d been knocked over by a coach-and-four that I didn’t even see coming my way. Completely blindsided. I pressed a hand over my mouth and took a couple of deep breaths. Someone approached, and I prayed to God that it wasn’t Margaret again, circling back for the kill. That was the last thing I needed right now. I might forget myself and let loose one of those kung fu moves Ling-Shen had taught me. KA-POW! One kick right to the solar plexus. Hardly appropriate behavior for high society, but how satisfying that would feel!

  “Hello, honey.”

  “James!” I wheeled around, heedless of my skirts that swooshed around me, then rebounded and rushed in the other direction. Hearing his voice was like a cool breeze in this stuffy ballroom. Refreshing. Relief. Something I badly needed after my conversation with Margaret. What a tonic! My face cracked into a grin, and I didn’t care how gauche I looked. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Duty calls.”

  “Really? Is Catherine here? I need to talk with her, give her a piece of my mind. Do you know what she did to me?” I craned my neck, looking over the coiffures and diamonds, hoping to catch a glimpse of my aunt. But I didn’t see her among the circles of bright people and brighter laughter. She had to be here. This was her element. “Well, where is she?”

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  I heaved a breath. “You don’t know how true that is.”

  “Hmmm. I can just imagine. I saw you talking with Margaret.”

  “Mrs. Calhoun?”

  “None other. My dear, sweet sister-in-law. Butter would not melt in her mouth.”

  I pointed to where Margaret was currently holding court. She said something, then the circle of men around her burst out laughing.

  He nodded. “Poor, Christopher. Married to that viper. Rattles on sweetly, but bites nasty. Should have been de-fanged at birth. Thankfully, I’m the black sheep of the family and was of no great interest to her. She just passed me over and moved on to some choicer prey. Someone like Christopher.” James pretended to shiver. “Need some snakebite medicine?” He tapped the secret pocket in his coat where he stored his silver flask. I shook my head. “Well, then. You’re one of the few survivors.”

  It didn’t feel like that. “Maybe. She was after something, but I’m not sure what. And there’s something else I don’t get. Margaret knew all about me. How could she already know I was a doctor?”

  James stroked his chin, thinking for a little bit. “Well, Miss Marge does have her way of finding things out, but it may be a lot simpler than that. Nathalie Arnaud’s not exactly what you might call a common name. I might have said something about you over the years.”

  Aghast, I could only stare at him, my mouth open for a soundless second. “About me? What could you possibly have to say about me?”

  “Don’t rightly recollect at the moment. I could have said anything, you know. Could be the time you were only eight and you delivered those Flores twins all by yourself. Had them all cleaned up and wrapped neat like little baby dolls by the time I arrived.”

  “Señora Flores did all the hard work. I just caught the babies so they didn’t hit the ground.”

  “Whatever you say, honey. Whatever you say. But then again, maybe I told them about that time Dick was choking on his tobacco. Turning blue, eyes bulging, arms flapping. All the chippies screaming their fool heads off, and then calm as you please, you jumped on his back. That plug flew outta his mouth, clear across the saloon, and hit the painting of Venus on the wall. Splat. Right near her umbilicus. Never did get the stain out of that one.” He slapped his leg, chuckling. “You always did think fast. Even when you were a little scrawny thing coming up to my knee. Suppose I could have mentioned that to Marge at one time or another. Can’t rightly say.”

  “Well, she offered me a job in your infirmary.”

  James looked remarkably calm. He examined the tips of his fingernails, then looked up at me again. “Is that so? And you said?”

  “Doesn’t matter. She was probably just bribing me. Probably not a genuine offer anyway. Or if it is, it probably has a zillion strings attached to it. No, thanks.”

  “Hmmmm. Don’t be so quick to say no, you might find out that you can wrestle with snakes better than you think. Well, never mind that. I believe I am being remiss. I haven’t complimented you on your fine, fine appearance.” Leaning back a little, he clasped my hands and looked me over. “My, my, my. Looky here. Aren’t you a picture?”

  “A picture of what? Nothing I’d want to hang on my walls.”

  “Now there you’re wrong, very wrong. You always have been a little myopic in this particular area. Take another look, Doctor Arnaud. A real good look.”

  “No, thanks.” I smoothed down my skirts, then felt the unfortunate pull of gravity on another part of my dress. I grabbed the middle of my bodice and tugged upwards. Blushing, I whispered, “I need some of your sticky crepe paper here. What do you call it? Tape? Whoever made this dress didn’t know what they were doing. It doesn’t fit.”

  “Seems to fit perfectly to me,” James said blandly, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure your dashing escort approves. He’s male and he’s n
ot dead, you know. By the way, Catherine’s very impressed. The woman’s completely beside herself with delight over your catch, as she see so poetically puts it. And we men think of ourselves as the aggressors of the species. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s the women who are the hunter-gatherers. And now, you. I had higher hopes for you, Nathalie. But it seems you are as sorry a female as all the rest. Never mind, never mind. So where is this catch of yours? That fine, fine specimen…Don Miguel?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere in this crush. The man shows up, then disappears again like a ghost. I can’t keep track of him.”

  “Ahhh, the universal female complaint. Honey, there’s no need to keep track of the Don, as long as he always returns home. That’s the main thing. Don’t get all worked up over nothing.”

  “Nothing? You don’t understand. He may get into…” I was going to say “trouble,” barely biting off the word in time. But by the look on James’s face, it didn’t seem to matter. He knew what I meant to say. Only his idea of “trouble” and mine were completely different.

  “Well, I may just be able to help you out of your predicament. Give a little assistance, so to speak.”

  “What do you mean?”

  James looked around the room. “My, my, my. It’s Almighty stuffy in here. Must be all the conversations full of hot air. The downright pomposity and bombast. Shall we take a turn in the garden? A little fresh air?”

  “Sure, whatever. I can take a hint.” I picked up my skirt and started walking until James coughed a little.

  He looked pointedly at the arm he offered to me. Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten. A lady wasn’t supposed to walk across the ballroom unescorted. I laid my hand on his elbow, and he patted it.

  “What’s up?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

  “A surprise,” he murmured.

  “You know how much I hate surprises.”

  “This one you’ll like. I guarantee it. Slow down and smile. It’s not a race.”