“Bank policy is that if credit is not established, credit may not be granted without a thorough review of the
lendee’s
accounts.”
“The
lendee
has been a valued customer of this bank for twenty-six years. The
lendee
is the owner of one of the most prestigious summer hotels in the northern
Allegheny Mountains
. The
lendee’s
accounts are right here on your desk. What further review is necessary?” William rose and walked decisively back and forth in front of
Crittendon’s
desk, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.
“I am not talking about tennis courts merely for recreational use at the
Crestmont
,
Mr.Crittendon
,” he said passionately. “I intend to run tennis tournaments second only to those in
Forest Hills
,
New York
. We will attract the best players from all over the country. People will flock here. Do you have any idea how much revenue that will create, not just for Eagles Mere, but for all of
Sullivan
County
? If you examine my figures, you will see that the entire loan will be paid off in two years.”
“You would have to put the
Crestmont
up as collateral against the loan.”
“The value of the
Crestmont
is out of the ballpark compared to the amount I am requesting. I have three guest cottages on the property. I offer them as collateral, with the understanding that we will continue to administer and maintain them, but all rental income be funneled directly to the bank if we default.”
“I shall have to discuss this with my other officers.”
“I find it incongruous that a man of your position would need to consult with his subordinates.”
Fifteen minutes later the papers were signed. Motoring home, William sang one of his favorite Fanny Crosby hymns, as the wind whipped through the car. The Eagles Mere Tennis Tournaments would be in place by next summer.
****
PT chatted with Miss Ponselle all the way back in the car. Gracie didn’t mind that he ignored her because she needed time to plan. When
Rosa
was settled back at the
Crestmont
, Gracie ran back to her dorm room and pulled out her notebook. At the top of the page she wrote:
Thursday, July 22
I get out now and don’t get hurt anymore.
I go after him, he comes around, and we are happy together.
I go after him and he says no.
He comes around, we have some happy times, then he hurts me again.
I do nothing, fret about what his problem is, and miss any love we might share.
He was worth the risk. Feeling emboldened, she ran to the bathroom to wash up. She freshened her makeup, changed into her dress and heels, and headed for the bowling alley. PT was probably still at dinner and most of the guests would be with Sid on the front lawn for game night. Gracie went in, saw that no one was there, and sat on one of the little stools under the scoreboard. When he came back she would tell him how she felt.
Time ticked by and the bowling alley grew dark as the sun went down. She turned on a light so he would think a guest was there when he returned. Making herself small on the stool, she waited.
When he came through the door his expression was inscrutable. “Come for a bowling lesson?” he asked nonchalantly, lighting a cigarette.
“I was just in the neighborhood.” She mentally smacked herself for not working out a better opening line.
PT went to the other side of the room and took a couple of long drags before tapping out his cigarette. Changing into his bowling shoes, he returned with a can of oil and some rags. He poured out some oil, polishing one of the lanes. Gracie sat quietly, waiting for a response. He worked another twenty minutes, wiping down the wood with a clean rag until it glowed. Then he cleaned out the gutters of the other lane and repeated the oiling process. The more he stalled, the angrier she got.
She drummed the sole of her right foot on the floor. “You were the one who kissed me, you know.”
“Yup. Liked it, too.”
She got up and sat down on the floor next to where he was working. “I’m glad you did.” He kept his arm moving, just out of her reach. “PT, I care about you.”
He wanted her, but he was wary. “I’ve been a loner for a long time, Gracie. I told you I wasn’t good at this.”
They stayed there a few more minutes in silence.
“Can we still jam together? Just share some music.”
He nodded, looking back at her like a lost little boy.
“Well then, I should go.”
He flashed into a storm cloud. “Why are you always telling yourself what you should do? Do what you want to do for a change.”
“What I want is to stay here, but you don’t want me to. I’ll see you in the staff lounge sometime,” she said, not looking back as she left.
****
Rosa
cheered her up. She told stories about opera and kept Gracie’s mind off PT. At one time, she imagined them going on the road together, but now she knew that wouldn’t happen. Having no idea what her future held, she wished she could play a role in an opera so she could become someone other than herself for a while. Instead, she listened to
Rosa
’s experiences.
“Now Caruso, there was a tenor.” The singer draped her hand dramatically across her heart. “His singing was virile. I could feel his whole body vibrate against mine when we were on stage singing a lovers’ duet. He was the king of Italian opera. Oh, yes, sometimes he overworked his acting, but his sound—it was like gold coming from his throat. He encouraged me and calmed me when I was nervous or disheartened. I have a big voice and the critics sometimes say I sacrifice quality of sound for volume. Caruso taught me to use the voice with which I have been endowed and pay no attention to them.”
“When will you sing with him again?” Gracie asked.
“Never. He died five years ago, in his late forties. What a loss.”
Rosa
sat down at her vanity concentrating on the view out her window. “Now we must move into the future, not dwell on the past.”
She went to her closet and pulled out two gowns. “For my concert next week I would like to wear one of these for the first part of the program when I sing the lighter songs.”
Rosa
discussed the pros and cons of the dresses. “I have worn this cobalt organza for much of my tour this summer. The lightness is good in the heat, but I fear it is too tight, and will impede my breathing. No, I will wear the honey-colored one. It reminds me of sunshine, yes, like my days here at the
Crestmont
. Then in keeping with the new fashion on the recital stage in
New York
, I will change into Olivia’s creation during the intermission. When I return for the second half of the concert, the audience will sense a transition in the flavor of the music because of my attire.”
Laying the golden gown down on the bed, Gracie said, “I don’t think it needs to be pressed.”
“No, no, it is fine. My dear, I would appreciate it if you would assist me in dressing for Friday’s concert. I never seem to be able to relax. Perhaps you could talk to me and help me not to dwell on my stage fright. But I want to see you in a real dress the night of the concert, not this ‘thing’.” Miss Ponselle tweaked the collar of Gracie’s uniform.
“I have a dress. I’ll wear my green braid slink.” She blushed, embarrassed that naming a dress must seem immature to such a great performer.
“Do not be embarrassed. You must love your clothes if you name them. I put on a costume for a role. It helps me to become the character. We are alike. Clothes are part of our identity.”
****
“She doesn’t eat?” Isaiah took off his chef’s hat and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his white uniform.
“Not before she sings a concert, no.” William rocked on his heels and waited for the burly man’s tirade to subside.
“Mr. Woods, we’ve got lobsters and prime rib ordered.” He waved a large bowl under William’s nose. “Just take a whiff of this apricot stuffing for the roast duck. I’ve got French artichoke canapés and medallions of
foie
gras
on toast points with a fancy watermelon sherbet punch for appetizers; caramelized onions, sautéed mushrooms, tomato aspic, green beans with hollandaise and my special poppy seed bread sticks. Sam’s making baked
Alaska
and steamed marmalade pudding with hard sauce for dessert.” Frustrated, Isaiah counted off each menu item on his fingers. “The dinner is going to cost, boss. Sid okayed all the requisitions, but without Miss Ponselle there… Do you want me to tinker with the menu?”
“Your menu sounds brilliant. Don’t alter a thing. We’ve advertized well and have many reservations from people in Eagles Mere and the surrounding area. We will treat everyone to an extravagant dinner and a fabulous concert afterward.”
As Isaiah calmed down, his sense of humor returned. “Well, the woman has to work up an appetite after all that singing. Do you think she’d fancy a nice cold sliced duck sandwich after she’s done?”
“I’d say, add the tomato aspic and
foie
gras
with some fresh fruit and she should be very happy. And put doilies and flowers on the tray. Miss Ponselle has been a lovely guest. I want her to remember her stay with fondness.”
****
Gracie had never felt so important.
Rosa
insisted on her help with preparations for the Thursday rehearsal and on keeping her company in the evening. Arrangements had been made for Peg to be Mrs. Cunningham’s companion that day.
The opera singer requested a green room where she could focus and dress before the concert and during intermission. Mrs. Woods unlocked an unused room arranged like a small parlor near the landing on the first sleeping floor and handed the key to Gracie. “My father’s old office,” she said proudly. I’ve never had the heart to make it over into a guest room. You see, it is just a few steps from the main staircase where Miss Ponselle will make her entrance.”
Rosa and Gracie sat there Thursday evening, eagerly awaiting Olivia. She was to deliver the gown after the final hemming.
“Not every role is equally dear to a singer’s heart,” the singer chattered nervously. “One must modulate the voice to suit the composer’s intent and the character’s emotions. To sing Leonora in
Il
Trovatore
, I must lighten to execute the trills, but never forget the depth of her character and convey that in the sound I produce. I try to both dwell in the character’s mind and sing her through my heart
.
I love the opera—not so much the treacherous arias, but the lavish music and plot.”
Gracie asked about the opera’s story, sensing that the more
Rosa
talked, the more she would relax so she would sleep well the night before the concert.
“Leonora and
Manrico
are lovers.
Manrico’s
enemy, Di Luna, threatens to kill him unless Leonora promises herself to him. Leonora is cunning and self-sacrificing. She loves
Manrico
and would do anything to save his life, but she respects herself too much to do this terrible thing. Before Di Luna can possess her, she drinks poison from a ring she has procured from an apothecary. The orchestration is very dramatic here. The music ascends as she lies dying in Marico’s arms, and as my voice goes up and up, I feel I am no longer on stage but in some other world.”
Olivia tapped on the green room door an hour before the concert. After the opera singer dressed, she sent Gracie and Olivia to wait below in the lobby so they could see the full effect. Rosa Ponselle stopped on the first landing in front of the mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling. She swished the silk fabric and practiced a low opera bow,
then turned to them, extending the cape as far to the side as her arm could reach.
“It is more than I dreamed of. Shall we call it ‘The Ponselle’?”
****
Because of the number of guest inquiries and flurry of telephone calls from Eagles Mere residents, the Woods moved the concert from the West Lounge into the largest space possible. Miss Ponselle had concurred, waiving the necessity of calling her agent for approval. Chairs were set up in the lobby, in the hallway near the Woods’ offices, and outside on the front and back porches. Overflow seating was in the Ladies Lounge where the sound would carry well through the open French doors. The Woods had given no one preference, but rather announced seats could be obtained on a first-come, first-serve basis. The piano was moved close to the east wing hall.
The audience filtered in, raving about the elaborate dinner served at the
Crestmont
table. Men turned out in tuxedos. Women wore formal gowns and cloche hats decorated with feathers, or ribbons wound around their hair secured behind one ear with elaborate pins.
After helping to put the final touches on the singer’s appearance, Gracie went from the green room down the back stairs and found a seat near the rear so she could easily slip out to help with the gown switch at intermission. No sooner had she sat down than she saw a strong hand grip the back of the chair next to her. “Would you mind if I sit here?” She barely had a moment to consider when Eric Sturdy sat down next to her.
On Friday, July 30
th
, William Woods, looking classy in formal wear, stood in the crook of the grand piano. He punctuated his eloquent welcome and introduction with a dramatic gesture toward the landing. A hush spread over the audience as Miss Ponselle’s tiny feet descended the center staircase. Her honey-colored gown glowed from the light of the huge chandelier. She met her accompanist at the grand piano and they bowed deeply, accepting the welcoming applause.