Kilpara (8 page)

“
Evening, Ellis.” I heard Emmons’
voice before I saw him. I stood to shake his hand then kissed Clara
on the cheek, her face even with mine. She smiled, displaying
prominent front teeth. Mr. Travers' handshake was firm as usual,
and Mrs. Travers smiled warmly.

I asked after Emmons’ wife and was about to
introduce Maureen when Travers interjected, “Who is this ravishing
young woman?”

“
This is my cousin, Maureen,” I
said, as he seated his wife. “She’s visiting from
Ireland.”

“
Indeed.” Travers took her gloved
hand and touched it to his lips. “Delighted. I’m sure.” He took a
seat beside Maureen and engaged her in conversation about railroad
construction across the nation and tales of Indians and
gunslingers. Maureen was reluctant to respond at first, but Travers
captured her imagination, and her natural curiosity came to the
fore. Her confidence grew and soon she was commenting
shyly.

“
Don’t believe everything William
tells you, Maureen,” Mrs. Travers said, smiling at her husband.
“He’s such an old fool.”

“
Not so old,” William Travers
reminded his wife and all three laughed.

I was grateful to Travers. He screened Maureen
from Emmons. She fell into ease with him, answering questions about
Ireland and that country’s difficulties. Mostly, she repeated what
Eileen and Seamus discussed from the news they received from
Ireland. Travers listened intently, stroked his white beard, and
smoothed his thin white mustache.

His wife added to the conversation, talking
about their sons and their sons’ families and how she wished they
lived in Baltimore instead of being scattered all across the
country. Her youngest son, John, was closest. He lived in
Hagerstown.

Maureen avoided direct questions about the
O'Donovan family, admitting only that she had a brother. I
intervened at critical moments, deflecting such questions away from
her without drawing notice.

Emmons was visibly relaxed. If his demeanor
was any indication of how well things had gone in Louisiana and the
potential for business there, then everything seemed favorable. He
was enjoying the light conversation, interjecting comments now and
then. I was grateful for this easy pace. He hardly paid any
attention to Maureen since the Travers monopolized her
company.

At first glance, Emmons was not the sort of
man who attracted attention except that he was impeccably dressed.
He employed only the best tailors to make his clothes. He was short
and round with a balding head, chubby face and sagging jowls that
sat almost on his neck. His main aptitude was a mind that could
calculate columns of numbers at a glance and he could analyze
economical and political trends with absolute certainty. Tonight,
with no obvious business debates to come between him and excellent
dining, he concentrated solely on his food and filled his round
stomach with gusto. With each bite of lobster, gasps escaped him
that sounded like murmurs of contentment, like a cat purring in its
owner’s lap.

Clara sat beside me, her head moving from side
to side so nothing escaped her. Small eyes darted round the table
hardly missing an expression or a morsel of food. She was
unfortunate in her looks. She did not inherit her father’s
features, but took after her mother, which was no better fortune.
Eloise was a tall, birdlike woman with brown wispy hair. A
hairdresser had been employed to devote her talents to correct this
problem. Emmons growled unceasingly about how much money his wife
and daughter spent caring for their looks. He was disappointed that
Eloise had produced only one child, and it had been a
girl.

He confided on different occasions to Ulrich
and me that finding a compatible suitor for Clara was an impossible
task. With none forthcoming to seek his daughter’s hand, he looked
hopefully to us for explanation. When we remained silent, he
retreated grumbling.

Clara turned her eyes on me. “Ellis, you
remember my birthday’s on Sunday? You’ll be at my party? And you
must bring Maureen.”

“
Sunday? I wouldn't miss it.” With
Mother on my mind, I had forgotten all about Clara’s birthday
party. I glanced helplessly at Maureen who returned a spirited
grin.

Clara smiled enthusiastically at Maureen. “Say
you’ll accompany us to the opera, Maureen. You’ll adore it. You
can’t possibly miss it.”

“
What do you think, Ma—er—Ellis?”
Maureen turned crimson at the near blunder.

“
You’ve had a rather long day—” I
began.

“
Nonsense,” William Travers broke
in. “Mrs. Travers and I are attending the opera ourselves, and we
insist that Clara and Maureen join us in our box.”

“
Of course, they must,” Mrs.
Travers agreed.

“
We accept your invitation,” Clara
said, before Maureen or I could protest.

“
It’s settled then,” Travers
announced. “I’ll escort the ladies to the opera.” He patted
Maureen’s hand. “I’ll be the envy of every man with three beautiful
women on my arm.” Clara gave a high-pitched giggle that took
Maureen by surprise and she laughed. “No need to worry about this
young lady, Ellis,” Travers said to me. “We’ll deliver her safely
to your apartments afterwards.”

When we left the restaurant, Travers ushered
the women toward his carriage like a shepherd herding his flock.
Maureen tried to look reassuring as she gave me a parting peck on
the cheek. I uttered a hurried warning to take care what she said.
She nodded meekly.

There were few patrons at the Metropole when
Emmons and I arrived. The stage was empty, too early yet for the
girls and their routines. Some regulars were already established at
the gaming tables, receiving individualized attention from the
dealers. We claimed a table in a quiet corner and talked about
minor matters throughout our first drink. When the second drink
arrived, Emmons put his glass aside and leaned forward.

“
You’ve been looking glum all
evening, Ellis,” he said. “What’s this all about?”

“
It’s Mother,” I said, pushing
aside thoughts of Maureen and preparing myself for Emmons reaction.
“She’s seriously ill. She wants me to take her back to Ireland—to
die.”

“
I see.” Emmons leaned back in his
chair and digested this information. After a moment lost in
thought, he bent forward. “It’s a foolhardy idea. You’ve refused,
of course.”

“
Yes, but she’s determined. She
won’t budge in her decision.”

“
And your brothers?”

“
Not happy about it, but at a
loss.”

“
I see,” Emmons said again, and I
wondered if he did. He had a practical outlook. Sentimentality had
no place in his life.

“
She expects you to oblige her
request?”

“
My brothers can’t leave their
families, or the farm, for so long.”

“
Tell her she can't go. You say
she’s a sick woman. She's hardly in her right mind, after
all.”

“
I wish I knew how to stop
her.”

“
Insist, man. Demand it. You have
commitments to your career.”

“
The doctor says it’s the only
thing keeping her alive. It’s hard to deny her—”

Emmons frowned. “Women are irrational most of
the time. You must tell them what to do.”

“
That won't work with Mother. When
she makes a decision, it’s impossible to get her to change her
mind.”

“
Your father is to blame for
letting her have her way too much. You’re considering this notion
then?”

“
Yes, but I’m still hoping to
change her mind.”

Emmons stared ahead, his eyes cold. His
opinion was obvious. I lacked control of the situation, the courage
to forbid something as desperate as a dying request. “I expect
you’ll be gone awhile if she persists,” he said, not too
kindly.

“
Just long enough to deposit her
into my aunt’s care in Ireland.”

He gestured, waving his hand as if to brush
Mother aside. “Do what’s necessary if you can’t overcome her
resistance. Personally, I think you should tell her, no. But if you
say you have no choice— Normally, I would find a temporary
replacement in your absence, but since this is short term I think
Ulrich can carry on minimally with a little extra coaching. How
soon must you leave?”

“
Right away.”

“
Stay a week to instruct Ulrich and
to bring me up to date.”

“
That’s reasonable.”

Emmons went on to talk about his trip to
Louisiana and all the great possibilities that awaited there. He
was well into this topic when Ulrich arrived. Soon afterward Emmons
excused himself briefly, and I informed Ulrich of my mother’s
condition and her plea. He nodded sympathetically. It was easy to
see he viewed the situation differently than Emmons. He was devoted
to his family and would honor their wishes above all else. When
Emmons rejoined us, the conversation turned to capital and revenue
expenditures once more.

Toward the end of the discussion, Emmons
announced he would curtail his visits to the South and spend more
time at the agency during my absence. Even though this last trip
had opened up new developments and opportunities, the business
partners weren’t totally convinced of the invaluable cash benefit
he had presented to them. His presence would give him ample
opportunity to persuade them and much needed time to reassess
business investments. With this decided upon, and other problems
associated with my sabbatical resolved to his satisfaction, Emmons
took his leave.

After Emmons left, I caught sight of Astelle
talking to customers. She moved easily and gracefully, and men
admired her openly. She had a gracious smile for each of them. They
didn’t know her well enough to notice the little lines around her
eyes, the thickening of her waistline, or how her full face hinted
a double chin. They believed she was still a relatively young
woman. But, in truth, she approached middle age.

She saw Emmons leave and came over. I
introduced her to Ulrich. He took her outstretched hand and kissed
it. Smiling, she led him to the cashier cage and offered him
complimentary chips for the tables. Ulrich, who had never gambled
before, looked to me for advice. “It’s a game of numbers just like
finance,” I said. “Calculate the odds and you can’t
lose.”

“
Don’t break the House the way
Ellis did on his first visit,” Astelle said. “He almost ruined my
profits.” She laughed and linked her arms with Ulrich’s and mine as
we strolled toward the gaming tables.

Astelle introduced Ulrich to the dealer at the
craps table. While he concentrated on shooting dice, I told Astelle
about Emmons’ invitation to dinner. “Maureen is so impressionable,”
I said. “Emmons would have her for dessert if he knew her true
identity. Luckily for us both, the Travers were there to save the
day. They have my undying gratitude.”

Astelle placed her hand over mine. “Relax.
Maureen is a courageous and engaging young woman. Besides, she’s
been a keen observer of O’Donovan etiquette since she was a child.
She’s clever enough to survive a casual dinner with Emmons. You’re
behaving like an over-protective older brother.”

I followed Astelle upstairs soon after Ulrich
admitted defeat at the gaming tables and departed. The business of
customers was turned over to Rudy’s capable hands. As we lay in
each other’s arms in the afterglow of lovemaking, I told her about
my mother’s request. She looked sad when I talked about leaving and
agreed with me that I had no choice but to oblige Mother's dying
wish.

I slipped back into my apartments around dawn,
tiptoeing carefully past Maureen's door on the way to my bedroom. I
was awakened sometime later by the sound of singing. I stumbled to
the kitchen to find Maureen none the worse for wear from the
previous evening. She removed eggs and bacon from the hot stove
onto a plate, then picked up another plate of freshly baked bread
and followed me to the dining table. I looked groggily at the food
she placed before me. I was in no mood for food but ate
automatically. How could anyone have so much energy this early in
the morning I wondered as she fussed around me, jabbering like a
blue jay.

“
You should have seen them,
Mas—Ellis,” She said. “The costumes, so rich and colorful, and the
stage so grand. And I’ve never heard voices so beautiful, so
powerful yet so sad. It brought tears to my eyes. Mr. Travers said
not everyone truly understands Le Nozze di Figaro. But if you get
caught up in the sentiment and the singing, even though you don’t
know the language, then you’ve learned to appreciate the art. I do,
I did.

“
People were marvelously dressed.
Looked like kings and queens, they did. And Clara is not so bad
really. She ponders too much about why God gave some women perfect
features and others none. I told her it wasn’t perfect features
that counted in the end. Clara said that's easy for me to say
because I’m beautiful.” Maureen paused to see the effect of her
last words.

I smiled my approval. “Haven’t I said so all
along? Suitors will come galloping from all over to beg for your
hand.” Maureen laughed a happy little laugh. She was radiant from
the excitement of the previous evening. I wondered if, unwittingly,
I had been cruel. If I had made a terrible mistake by allowing this
simple country girl to taste the kind of world she could never be
part of.