Fortune's Flames Read online

  “How have you been, Mary?”

  “I’ve been fine, Miss Maren, staying real busy here. Lord ain’t made no occasion which stops eager gamblers from tossing away their money, including war.”

  “You’re saying business is good?” Maren hinted.

  “Same as ever, Miss Maren, earning more money every month.”

  “Is Dan Myers still the manager?” she asked.

  “Certainly is, but he’s out on errands. I don’t expect him back till four.”

  “Do you still open at seven?”

  “Surely do, Miss Maren. Now that you’re the owner, would you like to look around while the place is empty and quiet?”

  “I would love to, Mary. Do you have time to join me?”

  “Just let me finish these pastries; then I can.”

  “I’ll wait in the other room.” Maren responded as she headed toward one of the two large gambling rooms.

  In these spacious rooms the moldings were creations of exquisite and painstaking craftsmanship, as were the decorated ceilings of wood and plaster, and because of the southern climate, there were many windows. Numerous chandeliers, candelabra, and sconces provided sufficient light at night, and gilded mirrors were positioned to increase the light by reflecting it, although placed so that patrons would not fear that someone could read their cards. Most of the furniture was expensive: Sheraton, Chippendale, and Adam. Suddenly Maren wondered if Eric had wanted to sell the costly furnishings of this graceful house.

  Delicate figurines, flower-filled epergnes, and other expensive objects were strategically placed to enhance the romantic and opulent beauty of the rooms, while heavy red drapes with gold fringe and gold cords afforded privacy. The drapes matched the tablecloths in the eating area. Maren remembered that years ago her father had hired a carpenter to build frames to which loosely woven muslin had been attached to keep pesty insects from coming in through the open windows. The screens had worked so well that other people in the mosquito-infested area had borrowed Cameron’s clever idea to keep their own homes and businesses free of annoying insects.

  In the foyer between the two gaming rooms, an ornately carved staircase ascended to the second floor. At the first landing, red drapes partitioned off the upper section to allow privacy of those who lived or stayed there. After that turn, the remaining staircase had solid walls on either side. Each room in this building had a marble and stone fireplace for winter use, and imported rugs partially covered the highly polished wood floors. Indeed, the establishment was magnificent, and it was hers.

  Maren waited for Mary before going upstairs, as Dan Myers was living up there and she did not know whether he was occupying the same room he’d resided in years ago. From past visits Maren knew that Mary’s two rooms were off the kitchen and that there was a private staircase near the pantry and cellar steps. As they mounted the stairs and passed through the drapes, Maren said, “The beauty of this place still makes me breathless.”

  Mary smiled. “This door goes to Mr. Myers’s rooms, and I’m the only one allowed to clean in there.”

  They walked down the hall and stopped before another door. “Your father stayed here when he was in town alone, and sometimes when he was accompanied by your mother. Nobody’s been allowed to use these rooms since he…passed away…but they’re kept cleaned and aired. Over there”—Mary pointed to the other side of the hall—” are the guest rooms.”

  “Guest rooms? I didn’t know we had guests.”

  “Not the kind who stay overnight. They just rent them for a few hours,” Mary explained. “Mr. Myers handles the private rooms.”

  “You don’t mean prostitutes, do you?” Maren asked worriedly.

  Mary laughed before responding. “Heavens, no, Miss Maren. Men dally in them with their sweethearts and mistresses for a few hours. None of our girls work these rooms. Your Papa would never have allowed such goings-on.” Noticing the younger woman’s expression, Mary declared kindly, “You’d lose a lot of business if you closed them up.”

  Maren decided to ponder that matter later. On the way to the kitchen, as she glanced at the tables where roulette, poker, baccarat, cribbage, piquet, and other games were played, excitement stirred within her, for she knew she was qualified to meet this challenge. She looked at the area where the musicians worked, and could hardly wait to hear them.

  As Maren sat down in the kitchen, she turned to Mary and asked, “Did you know Papa had a secret partner in Lady Luck?”

  “I didn’t until Mister Eric asked about him after Mister Cameron’s death. Mr. Myers didn’t know either,” Mary replied, answering Maren’s next question before it was asked.

  “Neither did I,” Maren confessed uneasily. “It’s very strange.”

  “I know it annoyed Mister Eric because it kept him from selling out.”

  “That’s whathe told me Thursday. I went through Papa’s things, but I couldn’t find any mention of this person. I’ll check upstairs,” Maren suddenly announced. She had not thought of that while they’d been up there.

  “I doubt you’ll find anything. Mister Eric searched up there.”

  “Do you think there will be any problem about my moving into Papa’s suite? I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t live at the hotel.”

  “Who could stop you, Miss Maren? This place is yours now. I’ll be glad to take care of you after you move in.”

  Maren smiled. “You’re very kind, Mary. Right now, I do need help.”

  “If you like, I can have your rooms ready in an hour or two.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll go pack and have my things delivered.”

  By three o’clock, Maren was settled into her new home and Mary was busy preparing for a lively Saturday night crowd.

  Shortly after four, a knock sounded on Maren’s door and she opened it to find Dan Myers standing before her and smiling. Despite his age, forty-eight now, Maren had always called him by his first name. “Dan,” she said happily, “it’s so good to see you. I hope you don’t mind my moving in today.”

  “Of course not,” he replied, “but it surprised me. It’s good to have you home again, Miss Maren. I just wish it wasn’t due to such terrible circumstances.” Dan Myers was a tall and slender man with hazel eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He had been the manager of Lady Luck since it had opened, and he made no secret of his great love for this place and his job.

  Maren assumed that Eric had told Mary and Dan of her troubles, so she didn’t repeat her sad tale. “I hope you don’t mind teaching me about the business. It’s all I have left,” she said.

  “If I remember correctly, few people could beat you at cards. Will you be keeping me on to manage the place?”

  “Do you even need to ask?” Maren replied, laughing. “I want you to carry on as usual. This place couldn’t function without you and Mary. I’m glad I have you two. I know this is a complicated business, and I hope I won’t be any trouble to you.”

  “You’re a smart girl, Maren James; you’ll learn everything quickly. Will you be joining me downstairs tonight?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been present during working hours, so I think I’ll just watch from the stairs tonight. Is the schedule still the same?”

  “Monday through Thursday it’s seven to ten, Friday and Saturday it’s seven to twelve, and we’re closed on Sunday,” he replied.

  “Monday should be a slow night, so I’ll make my first visit then. That way, I can meet everyone and see how things are done.”

  “Just like I said, Miss Maren, you’re a very bright girl.”

  Maren was not offended by Dan’s calling her a girl since he had known her as one. Soon, he would realize she was a woman, the owner, and his boss. To jump in and take over abruptly might cause problems, perhaps resentment. Maren wanted to keep things running smoothly, so she intended to move slowly and carefully. Men could be strange creatures, especially when it came to having a female boss… and one so young. No matter how much she knew about the place and gamblin
g, she decided to pretend that Dan was teaching her everything.

  “I’ll need lots of help and patience, Dan.” She almost told him to call her by her first name, but because of their business involvement, she felt it would be best if he continued to call her Miss Maren.

  In case she was sighted by the patrons, Maren put on a pale green dress with tiny black and ivory strips. It was banded beneath her breasts with a wide black velvet sash, and the short sleeves and the neckline were edged with ivory ruche. Having parted her dark hair in the center, Maren had drawn it back with decorative combs, leaving a few short curls over her ears, at her temples, and across her forehead. Since Eric was not here to see the jeweled necklace, Maren secured a gold and jet brooch to a black ribbon, which she tied around her neck. She completed her attire by stepping into matching green slippers.

  Maren waited until eight o’clock before sneaking down the first set of stairs to hide behind the heavy red drapes on the landing. Cautiously she drew them back a bit so she could observe the action below, the overly large archways leading to the rooms providing her with excellent views of the gambling rooms. The gambling areas seemed bathed in golden light due to the numerous candles lit, and lovely music reached Maren’s alert ears. People were laughing and conversing genially as they enjoyed their games, drinks, and companions. Indeed, Maren was surprised and pleased to discover the genteel atmosphere of Lady Luck. She had expected a gambling house to be noisy and hectic, but this was neither. There was not a ruffian or an unkempt person in sight. Her patrons sported fine clothing and jewels, and good manners. An urge to join them nibbled at her, but she resisted it.

  She studied the two men at the door: Ned Jones and Harry Peck, Lady Luck guards for years. With money flowing so freely, it was necessary to have such employees. She made a mental note to ask Dan if Lady Luck had ever been robbed and what security procedures were usually taken.

  As if thinking of Dan Myers had summoned him, she saw him head toward the stairs with a well-dressed couple. As he halted at the foot of the steps and withdrew a key, Maren comprehended what was taking place. Hurriedly she eyed the couple, then quietly rushed to her room. By slightly opening the door and peering through the slit she had created, she watched the pair enter one of those special rooms. She did not have to wonder what they had in mind for entertainment; their intimate expressions and touches revealed all.

  Maren closed her door, locked it, and leaned against it. She sighed dreamily as she called Jared Morgan’s image to mind. How she wished he were with her. She yearned to see him again, to embrace him and kiss him, to share everything with him, as her mother had done with her father. There were so many problems facing her, and it would be easier to confront them with him at her side. Maren was not a weakling or a coward, but she needed the love and support of someone special.

  Her golden brown eyes slowly took in the room. As always, she was impressed by its beauty and tranquillity. It was a lovely sitting room twenty feet long and sixteen feet wide. At the far end was a fireplace, and positioned on each side of it were windows which overlooked the side of the house. On the mantel rested a small wooden box, a painted plate on a stand, and a Seth Thomas clock. Above it were a pair of sconces and an oval looking glass. In all, three mirrors were carefully placed to reflect the natural light from five windows.

  She was delighted by the amount of light, natural and man-made, and she was glad that this large and airy room faced a street which was one of the loveliest in town. Maren knew she would enjoy her new home, and she continued to admire it. Before three front windows sat a camel-back sofa. On either end of it were splayed-leg tables, and before it was an oval tea table. Slightly to one side and before the sofa a wing chair and small reading table were placed. The chair and sofa, made of cherry wood that had been polished to a beautiful shine, were upholstered in a material that matched the floral sprays of the Chinese rug which nearly covered the dark wood floor. Curtains in the same design hung over all five windows. On the wall to Maren’s left, a masterfully carved secretary was positioned, and she could still envision her father sitting there and writing notes. The pentagonally topped, gateleg table near the door held a hurricane lamp to light the owner’s entry, for it was dangerous to keep sconces and candlesticks burning during one’s absence. The furnishings were completed by a sideboard, which served as a private bar, and a book case which also held keepsakes and figurines, mostly acquired by her father on his trips abroad.

  Maren walked to one of the windows, pulled aside the curtain, and looked into the shadows below. Street lamps glowed at fifty-foot distances, and ornamental iron fences enclosed nearly every yard in sight. The windows had been opened a few inches to allow an air flow, and she could smell the mingled fragrances of flowers wafting on the gentle breeze. Despite the muffled noises from downstairs, she felt alone, trapped in another world, a suddenly lonely world.

  To distract herself from her somber mood, she turned and gazed into the alcove near the hall door. It was used for private dining, and she imagined a romantic dinner there with Jared: broccoli, steamed and buttered; baby carrots, gleaming with a honey glaze; roast duckling, baked to a crispy brown; wild rice, gathered from the lowlands and cooked to perfection; finger-licking bread and French pastries, hot and fresh from the oven; and a heady wine to top the meal off. Maren licked her lips and sighed dreamily. After dining, they could snuggle before a cozy fire and relax until they were eager to sneak into the bedroom….

  “Behave yourself, Maren James,” she chided, then laughed.

  She strolled into the alcove. The small area contained a round dining table and two chairs set beneath an exquisite chandelier which held three candles but was made of countless glass prisms. Maren envisioned it sending out glittering light. No doubt it would bathe Jared’s handsome face in a mesmerizing glow. She sat down on one of the chairs and looked across the table, imagining her love was sitting with her, eating, drinking, talking, and gazing back at her. Those hungering thoughts made her squirm in her chair, so she jumped up and continued her exploration of this area.

  In the back corners were triangular cabinets which held hand-painted dishes and imported crystal. She noticed that the silver was missing and frowned. Eric again, she decided. Silk hangings were suspended from golden cords on either sidewall. On them Chinese birds and flowers had been painstakingly painted by a talented hand whose signature she could not read. And a Chinese tureen, whose surface displayed fragile butterflies and colorful flowers, rested in the middle of the table. As with the other rooms, the walls were off-white and had a Wedgwood blue trim. Abruptly she realized how many of the objects were from the Wedgwood collection, some designed and made by Josiah himself in England.

  Maren walked to the doorway of the adjoining bedroom. Here, too, was a fireplace, but this one had bookshelves on both sides of it. A fourteen-inch-high brass guard and a hand-painted fireboard stood before the hearth, whereas in the other room hinged paneled shutters were used to close off the fireplace out of season. In case there was a chilly morning, a basket of wood sat nearby. Two lowboys contained stored clothing and linen. Hurricane lamps were set on them, and a mirror hung above the one against the far wall. This furniture, too, was made of cherry. Maren marveled at the intelligence of the person who had designed this room, this suite, this house.

  Maren strolled into the room, stood on carpeting decorated with pink and blue flowers. The drapes and counterpane matched it perfectly. The bed was canopied, and had a crocheted covering which looked lacy and delicate but was probably very sturdy. A night table was placed at one side of it, a writing table at the other. Upon this last was a portable writing desk, and a brass sconce hung over it to provide plenty of light. A wing chair and ottoman stood near the fire, a blanket chest at the foot of the bed. She walked to the large armoire which held her clothes, and fingered its artistic workmanship. Yes, this was a beautiful room, a seductive one. She wondered if her parents had ever made love on the canopied bed, wondered if she would. Tonight
would be the first time she slept here, and she was looking forward to the experience.

  Maren entered the water closet, which was off the bedroom area. It contained a portable tub with an evacuation line through the wall for easy emptying and a cabinet that held bath linens and grooming items. A looking glass and two sconces were placed above the cabinet. As Maren glanced into the mirror, she noticed two more sconces above the tub and the hand-painted chamberpot to her right.

  She removed her combs to brush her hair, then changed her mind about the nightly task. Returning to her bedroom, she put on a nightgown, and after putting away her clothes, she began to look through the books on the fireplace shelves. She found nothing about the secret partner in any of them. For hours she searched every drawer, vase, container, and object in the suite. She checked behind, under, around, and in everything, but found no answer.

  “Why did you do this, Papa?” she murmured. “Surely you would leave some clue for me to follow…unless Eric accidentally destroyed it. Maren, Maren, what are you going to do about him?” she fretted.

  She wondered why her cousin Marc was keeping his distance. She had expected him to come around her more, to pester her with his boyish antics as he had done in the past and on her first day here. And she could not forget how frightened he had looked when he’d thought he had let something slip about Eric that night at dinner. She recalled the heavy boxes Eric had left in Jamaica, and wondered if some of the British gold had been inside them.

  Jamaica… A vision of the night on the beach with Jared filled her mind. She remembered how he had held her, touched her, kissed her, entreated her to meet him again. Surely if his only interest in her was physical, he would have taken her then or he would have charmed her into making a nocturnal visit. He had seemed as bewitched by her as she was by him, yet he had not tried to force himself on her. Didn’t that mean she had made a good impression on him?