Tommy bounded into Miss Violet’s kitchen to find bread cooling and stew on the stove, among other things. No sign of Katherine, Violet, or any of the girls. That was better. His conversation with Miss Violet needed to be done in private. He took the back stairs two at a time and rushed down the hall to Miss Violet’s private rooms. He knocked, telling himself to breathe evenly, to be calm and grown-up when he spoke.
No answer. Noise came from the third floor, where the ladies had rooms. He headed up the stairs, following the voices. He could see through the spindles as he rose upward. Several women were in the dressing room area near the back of the house at the top of the stairs. Golden sunrays spilled through the window and Tommy paused, remembering he’d been told that he shouldn’t enter these rooms without permission since sometimes the ladies were changing clothes.
A tall woman was dressing in a ruffled dress. A lace veil trailed down her back. She was facing the window. Tommy squinted, the sun burning his eyes, and he continued upward against his better judgment. He held the railing, moving slower. That dress, the veil. He’d seen it in newspaper photos.
Dreama.
He swelled with anger that this woman had caused him to lose significant income. Every single client gone. He didn’t want to miss the chance to let her know just that. He hit the landing right in front of the open door, and she turned. The front of the veil was folded back over her head, revealing her face to him for the first time. His breath caught.
“Olivia.” He shook his head, as though doing so would clear up his muddled thoughts. One of Miss Violet’s finance students? His mind immediately went to Madame Smalley, the fortune-teller arrested for setting up illusions, cons. He knew it. Dreama was a fraud.
She glanced away, and Miss Violet filled the doorway, her face warped with anger. “Get the hell downstairs, Tommy Arthur. How dare you.”
Her face flamed red, and she flew down the steps on his heels. When he hit the second floor, she grabbed his arm so hard her nails cut into his skin. He turned.
Her chest heaved. “I told you never to come to the third floor unless invited. How dare you—”
“How dare you,” Tommy said slowly, reminding himself to watch his tone with Miss Violet too late.
“You have no idea—”
“You have no idea. That Dreama, that fraud you have up there is cutting into my prayer business. Olivia? Dreama is Olivia. She’s a nice girl and all, but there’s nothing about her that would—”
“You work for me. That’s enough income.”
“It’s not enough. I’m saving for my mama, my sister. My father. He has plans to return, and he’s depending on me.” It shocked him that those words flowed out as if he hadn’t come to the conclusion his father wasn’t returning anytime soon.
“No one else in your family wants your father back here, Tommy. Wise up. Grow up. Your sister’s moved on from childish dreams like that. Your mother certainly has. Have you even noticed?”
Tommy couldn’t believe the cruelty Miss Violet wielded like a weapon. His eyes burned, and he was afraid he might burst into tears. Mama and Katherine certainly didn’t believe in Frank Arthur the way Tommy had—wait. He thought of the letters, what his mother and sister had said about them, his father’s broken promises, that he’d started to see the very same thing. Yet Miss Violet’s nastiness stung worse than the bruises he’d gotten at Rupert’s. Every breath he took at that moment caused pain in his ribs, pain in his heart, even if for different reasons.
“You’re running a game with Olivia acting as Dreama, and it’s causing me to lose prayer money. Every single customer turned me away for Dreama today. It’s like you’re trapping us here. Is that what you’re doing?” Tommy’s anger had run away with his sense. He could very well be making the whole thing worse.
Miss Violet loosened her grip on Tommy and then hugged him close, making him gasp from pain and surprise. She pulled him down to her and whispered in his ear. “Please, Tommy. Let me get through this night, and we’ll figure out the financial aspects of this. You’ve done a fine job with your work for me. You’ve been discreet and . . . Give me a chance to make this up to you. I never imagined that Dreama could be the force in town that she is. People are excited about her and fearful of her and loving her and hating her, and the whole stew of it has created a sensation.”
Miss Violet’s sudden shift in delivery shocked him dumb. The news articles surely indicated that. Miss Violet released him and patted his arm where her nails had dug in. “Please. Forgive my reaction. I was afraid. Fear can do powerful things to people.”
Tommy nodded, unsettled further by the swing back to kindness, patience.
“You understand the need for even more discretion than before? With the condoms, with Dreama, Olivia, all of it? You understand, don’t you? You’re a good soul, Tommy. I know that. But you cannot breathe a word of what you just saw to anyone. Your family depends on me—you do, too. I know you want to protect your family, so please don’t let on that Olivia is Dreama. The less they know, the better. You must understand that. I know you understand. You are wiser than most, and I was wrong to say what I did. It’s important I keep all aspects of my business separate. Most women can’t manage to remain steadfast in their work when they begin to wonder what is happening in other areas. My ladies are very smart, but still I deal with their womanliness. I manage it, and I can’t have anything crossing over.”
Tommy thought of Mama and Katherine and Yale, all of them warm and together in a home for the first time in years. He could not put that at risk. “I understand, yes, yes.”
She angled her body against his again, painful ribs making him suck back his breath.
“Thank you, Tommy,” she said. “Thank you. Here, take this.”
She pulled three dollars from her apron pocket. “I have more for you. It’s coming. Don’t be impatient or short-sighted and ruin this for your family.”
Tommy was willing to protect Mama and his family, but he had to agree his anger had taken hold. He reminded himself to control it, not to let his emotions rule him. “Thanks, Miss Violet.”
She led him by the hand. “You’re still agitated. I don’t want that, Tommy. Wait here.”
She returned from one of the rooms with a mug. “This’ll make you feel better. More relaxed. Your sister found the recipe in that book of hers. Calms the nerves and sharpens the mind. We all need that, right? Let’s worry about new income streams tomorrow. Right now, just relax.”
“What is it?” Tommy sniffed it. The scent was sweet and sour.
Miss Violet lifted her shoulders. “Katherine’s a genius with her cures. I don’t even ask anymore. I trust her completely.”
Tommy was relieved that Katherine had made herself so useful, that his missteps, like coming upstairs uninvited, might be overlooked because of it.
“Drink it,” she said.
Tommy sipped the warm liquid, trying to decipher what was in it. After a few sips, he found that he was practically chugging it down.
“There, there.” Violet took the mug and looped her arm through his. “Help me down the stairs, won’t you?”
Tommy felt the drink expand in his body, warming him, calming him just as Miss Violet said it would. Almost like when he had a few sips of whiskey, just before a few slid to a dozen.
They went downstairs slowly, and by the time she was guiding him through the kitchen and out the door, his state of mind had changed quite a bit.
“Well, then. Remember, this is just between us, Tommy. Reward comes in quiet faith and kept promises. I need that from you, and I will return it tenfold.”
Tommy nodded and exhaled. “Sure, sure.”
“Not a word about Olivia being Dreama. I need your vow. For your family’s sake. They’ve been through enough.”
Tommy nodded. “Yes.”
And out the door he went.