Wednesdays At the Red Pepper Cafe

Wednesdays At the Red Pepper Café

by

Tish Cook

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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PUBLISHED BY:

Sweet Prairie Publishing on Smashwords

Wednesdays At the Red Pepper Café

Copyright © 2013 by Tish Cook

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Adult Reading Material

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This is a work of fiction. While some places and locations are real, the characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Early spring, 1947

It was Tuesday...the beginning of their nightmare.

Colleen tapped softly on the bedroom door. Miss Helene, breakfast is ready, Miss.

She waited for a response, but got none. She shook her head in frustration. These rich kids. Out all night and sleepin’ all the blessed day. And I left Ireland for this? she muttered.

She rapped louder. Miss Helene. Surely now ye not be wantin’ ta eat a cold breakfast, will ye?

She listened, but again, heard nothing. Enough of this! She reached for the brightly-polished brass door knob, but her hand stopped just sort of grabbing it. No entry unless invited. Rules were rules.

She stood staring at the door, hoping to hear Helene’s footsteps.

Colleen! Bernice called out from the base of the stairs.

The maid turned her head in the direction of the woman’s voice. Yes, mum?

What in blue blazes is going on up there?

It’s Miss Helene. She’s not answerin’.

Well, knock louder!

I did, mum. And she still doesn’t come.

"Oh, for crying out loud, do I have to do everything in this house?" Bernice asked. She grabbed the hand rail and pulled herself up the long, wide spiral staircase to the second floor, where a helpless-looking Colleen stood, her hands clasped at her chest as if praying for a minor miracle.

Bernice gently nudged the petite young maid aside with the back of her hand. Let me handle this.

She made a fist and rapped loudly. Helene! It’s your mother. Wake up! You’re wanted at the breakfast table! We’ll not wait any longer.

Still no response came from inside.

Oh, for Heaven sake. Helene! Bernice bellowed and threw open the bedroom door only to see an empty bed. The top sheet and bedspread had been turned down, but the sheets were wrinkle-free. It was obvious no one had slept in it, and there was no sign of Helene. The window on the far wall was open slightly; its sheer satin curtains floated upward in a provocative dance with a gentle breeze that seemed to whisper the coming of an early spring.

Well, where in the world is she? Did you see her come in last night? Bernice asked.

No, I didn’t, mum, Colleen said, still clutching her hands in prayer. Didn’t hear nothin’ neither.

What time was that?

I turned down her bed around eight o’clock and then went about finishin’ me other duties before I turned in.

Are you sure?

Yes, mum. I turn down her bed at that time every night.

Bernice punched her fists into her ample hips and set her chin. Well that does it! This is getting out of hand! First she stays out to all hours of the night with that rowdy bunch. Now she’s making a habit of not even coming home!

She spun on her heel and swooped out of the bedroom with a nervous, still praying, Colleen close behind.

Connor and Edmund, already seated at the dining table, chose not to wait, but to eat while their breakfast was hot.

I’ll visit the Wabash shop on Friday, Connor said. You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Of course I will, Edmund said and dipped his toast into the egg yolk. I’m dying to see what’s new for this spring’s fashions.

And I’m sure it’s about the fashions and not about the lovely young women who want to try them on. Hmm?

Maybe a little of both, Edmund’s lips curled into a smile. He had a definite eye for the ladies and they for him.

Bernice stomped down the stairs to her chair and sat with a heavy thump and an even heavier sigh.

Connor looked up from his poached eggs. Isn’t Helene joining us?

"Your daughter is not in her room and it appears she hasn’t been in it all night. She said it was just going to be dinner and dancing in the city. Apparently she was wrong. This is outrageous!"

Conner blew over the top of his coffee, and took a tentative sip. Now, Bernie. She’s twenty years old. Let the girl have a little fun. After all, you wanted her to spend more time with them. To be part of the young social circle. You did say that, didn’t you?

Bernice stared at her husband. I suppose so. But —

Of course you did, he said. And you also said you wanted her to stay away from the others. What do you call them? Oh, yes. The lowlifes.

I just think she can do better when it comes to picking her friends, that’s all, Bernice replied. I don’t understand. It’s like she’s intent on driving me crazy.

"She’s just being young, that’s all. My mother always said to be careful what you wish for. Well, you got what you wished for this time, my dear. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s not the first time she’s spent the night with a friend after partying late with her social circle. He cleared his throat. She probably decided to stay at Faye’s."

Well, I don’t like it. Not one bit. She has her reputation to think about, Bernice said, her voice now an octave higher. And what does that say about me…about us? Letting our daughter run around all night. And in Chicago, no less! I don’t care if it is the fashionable thing for the young crowd these days. I won’t have it. I want you to talk to her.

Connor sighed. His wife of twenty five years always got what she wanted. He made sure of that. To him she was, and always would be, the petite, strikingly beautiful young auburn-haired socialite who breezed into her father’s office one Friday morning in 1920 and, after introducing herself and shaking Connor’s hand, promptly left him speechless by saying, My father says you’re a good man. Maybe I should think about marrying you.

It was love at first sight. Two years later, she did just that.

His pale blue eyes softened. Alright, now just calm down my dear. When she gets home, I’ll have a word with her.

Thank you, darling, she replied. Then she waved her hand at the maid standing next to the buffet. Annie, would you please ask Prissy to make me another egg? I just can’t stand them when they’re lukewarm.

Yes, mum, the young maid said. She quickly removed Bernice’s plate and rushed into the kitchen where she ordered another soft-boiled egg for the missus.

Connor turned to his son. Did you see your sister come in last night?

Edmund pressed the white linen napkin gently to his lips. No. In fact, I was in early. I believe around eleven. Her door was closed, so I just assumed she was home. Perhaps she’s out in the garden.

I doubt it, Bernice huffed as Annie placed a warm breakfast in front of her. Colleen, will you please check with Mr. Jackson? Ask him if he’s seen her this morning.

Yes, mum, Colleen said, curtseyed and walked out the back door and headed straight to the garden area.

Why me? She asked softly and rolled her eyes. Jassus, just because I make up her room doesn’t mean I’m ta watch over her all day and half the night! She’s a grown woman, and I’m not bein’ paid ta babysit. If ya ask me, I’m not bein’ paid much at all. I just hope she’s out here. If she ain’t, there’s goin’ ta be one big ruckus.

Once on the stone path leading to the garden, Colleen’s pace slowed to a crawl. She always relished her brief escape from the confines of the mansion, and she loved to feel the sun on her face, even if it did make a million freckles pop out. The young maid missed being outside. Back in her homeland she would often spend hours and walk for miles in the tall emerald-green grass that blanketed the rolling fields near her village. That was something she could only do these days in her dreams or when she had free time – which wasn’t very often. Caring for the needs of the Westerbrook family was hard work.

The garden seemed to be alive with early spring flowers as tulips, crocus and daffodils erupted from the soft, warm soil announcing their annual presence. She took a deep breath of the morning air. It was filled with the sweet, intoxicating scent of new growth. Bright sunlight flickered through the newly-budding trees providing periods of welcome warmth.

A hive of activity greeted her as workers mowed and trimmed and raked the spacious grounds. She saw the gardener working near the tool shed and called out to him. Good morning, Mr. Jackson.

The lanky gardener stopped raking a gaggle of tangled branches, victims of the harsh Midwest winter winds, and brushed the sweat from his already suntanned brow with his handkerchief. Mornin’, Miss Colleen. Yer lookin’ lovely today. Might ya be wantin’ a few fresh flowers? Got some ready for ya.

Aw, ye are such a sweet talker, but not at the present time. I’m lookin’ for Miss Helene. Have ye seen her out here anywhere?

The gardener glanced around and shook his head. No, I ain’t seen her yet this morning. Didn’t know she got up this early.

Well now, normally she doesn’t, but she’s not in her room and the missus is wantin’ her ta come ta breakfast.

Well, you can tell the missus that the young lady who sleeps till noon ain’t here. If she was, I’d put her to work. His lips parted in a wide grin.

Now that I’d like ta see.

Yeah, me too. Do y’all want me to send her in if she wanders this way?

That would be wonderful, sir. Thank ye, she said and turned and slowly made her way back to her prison where she wiped her shoes at the back door.

She made her way into the dining room and delivered the news to an already upset mother. Mr. Jackson says she’s not in the garden, mum. Says he’s not seen her at all this morn. But he says he’ll send her in if she arrives.

Bernice shook her head. Very well, thank you, Colleen. You may clear the dishes now. When you’re through with the downstairs, you might as well make her bed. It’s obvious she won’t be using it any more until tonight.

Shortly before lunchtime Colleen walked into Helene’s bedroom. The young maid never got tired of being in it, and on days when Helene was out of the house, secretly imagined it to be hers.

Everything in it was hypnotic. Richly-colored flowers in red, burgundy, blue and ivory resembling an English garden climbed up the wallpapered walls.

The bed, its quilted spread matched the walls, was enticing. It was daring her to do it. To leap into the middle of the overstuffed mattress and submerge herself briefly in another world. A world where she would want for nothing. Have everything.

She fought the urge to throw herself on top of it and pretend she had just woken up. She thought about how she would stretch her arms up over her head and yawn, then look out the window at the midday sun and wonder, What am I goin’ ta wear today. Maybe I’ll have Mr. O’Hara drive me into the city so I can buy me a new dress. What am I thinkin’? I won’t need ta be buyin’ one. Me father owns the finest dress store in all of Chicago.

But she stopped short of taking the plunge. It would just be her luck the missus would walk in and find her, and that would be the end of it. That kind of behavior would put her on a boat back to Ireland. Back to her unemployed, alcoholic father with his mean temper and even meaner fists. Back to a mother who hated him but kept churning out his children. Back to selling half-rotten apples on the street corner for a few pence, all the while trying to avoid the groping hands of the whiskey-soaked sots that staggered from the local pubs.

The images were all too real and frightening. Suddenly the urge to play hooky was gone.

She set about putting the room in order, which wasn’t a big task. She pulled a cotton cloth out of her waistband and waved it at a micro-thin layer of dust that clung to the top of the bed’s custom-made headboard. The arched portion of it was accented at the top with gold inlaid scrollwork that started at one side and looped around, like a giant snake, until it got to the other side. Like Helene, it was one-of-a-kind.

With the dusting complete, she turned and stared briefly at the open window. She didn’t remember opening it the previous night, but figured Helene wouldn’t mind, so she made the bold decision to leave it that way. Spring was definitely on its way, and the room could use a good airing out.

She noticed several drooping flowers in the vase on the nightstand. My heavens, Mister Jackson will have ta cut me some fresh ones. He said he had some, and I thought I saw the tulips bloomin’ when I was out in the garden. She twirled the dust cloth and smirked. I may have ta go back out there again...just ta have a look for meself.

She finished tucking the bedspread under the feather pillows, and then turned her attention back to the room. Looks heavenly. Just a bit of new flowers and —.

Her gaze suddenly stopped at the mahogany dressing table that hugged the wall near the bathroom door. She stared hard at the ornate table, and then rushed over to it and looked closer. Lordy. Where is it?

She dropped to the floor and scanned under the bed. It wasn’t there either. Then she threw open the double doors of the massive closet and rummaged through the stacks of shoes and purses growing neatly up from the floor. Again, she didn’t see it.

She scurried into the bathroom and covered every inch, only to come up empty. She quickly exhausted places to look. Then she ran back out into the middle of the bedroom and stood, wide-eyed and breathless, wringing her hands. She had to tell them. They couldn’t think that she had taken it.

She raced down the spiral staircase, her feet barely touching the carpeted steps. She hurried into the parlor where Bernice was sitting in an overstuffed armchair, finishing her coffee and reading the morning paper.

Mrs. Westerbrook, Colleen gasped. I was makin’ up Miss Helene’s room. I can’t find her jewelry box. It’s missing, mum.

Missing?

Yes, mum.

Oh, it can’t be, Colleen. You’re just overlooking it, Bernice said.

But I’ve looked everywhere, mum. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

Bernice folded the paper and put it on the table. Calm down, Colleen. Wipe those eyes. Let’s go see if we can find it.

Colleen was shaking from head to toe as she followed Bernice up the stairs. She didn’t understand why the missus was walking so slowly. She wanted to rush ahead of her, to show her all the places she had looked, but that wasn’t what a maid did. Instead she clasped her hands to her chest, this time praying for a major miracle, and tried not to step on the back of the missus’s heels.

Bernice stepped into Helene’s room. Alright now, where have you looked?

Colleen wailed, Everywhere, mum. Tis nowhere ta be found!

Bernice walked to the dressing table and ran her hand over the bare spot where the box normally sat. Maybe she took it into her bathroom when she was getting dressed for last evening. Did you look in there?

"Yes, mum. I’ve scoured this room and the bathroom. That’s what I’m tellin’ ya, mum. She never takes it off her table. It’s gone!"

Bernice repeated the extensive search process and got the same results as Colleen.

Well where in the world could it be? she asked.

I don’t know, Colleen said tearfully. And I want ye ta know I would never take it out of her room.

Bernice didn’t hear the frightened maid. Instead, her eyes darted around the room, desperately looking for the missing jewelry box. It didn’t matter. The box and its contents were gone. Her hands shook and she rubbed her forehead. Colleen, summon the police. Tell them there’s been a robbery!

Chapter 2

Present day

Joann arrived before the other two and slipped into the sunny side of the familiar booth at the Red Pepper Café. It was that way almost every week.

She liked being the first to arrive. That way she could down a couple of cups of coffee and be alone with her thoughts for a few minutes. It was a toss-up which one would show up next, but it didn’t matter. Eventually they would all be there.

The Red Pepper was small, but certainly not drab. Clumps of bright red, hand painted jalapeño peppers seemed to almost jump from the soft, lime green walls, and