CHAPTER TWENTY.

The room was enchanting with plush peach carpeting. The walls were green, decorated with beautiful paintings of men in black suits and women in elegant gowns, and others in bonnets having tea in parlors or sitting in gardens. The windows to the front and side let in sunlight that reflected off mirrors and polished oak and glass tabletops holding assortments of flowers and interesting marble sculptures. Positioned for the best view of the white fireplace were two easy chairs and a long sofa. All were fitted with a material of embroidered white and peach flowers and feathery leaves that wove through and around fine-lined branches.

"This is just the beginning of the amenities we all enjoy here," Beatrice said, offering Emily the couch, then taking an easy chair for herself.

"Now, where did you say you were from?"

"I'm from down south. O-out in the country. Nowhere near any towns, at all."

"Maxine mentioned that your mother passed on. So what does your father think of you moving all the way up to San Francisco?"

"My parents both died when I was still a baby. I-I'd been living with... with my aunt ever since. She died last month."

Oh. You really are alone then, aren't you?" She looked at Emily's bag. "Tell me something, just out of curiosity. How much money are you carrying?"

Emily rubbed her bag. "A hundred and thirty dollars and some change." She smiled. "A lot more than I've ever had."

Beatrice's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Emily couldn't tell if she was shocked or happy. "Oh my, this is worse than I thought. Listen dear, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're not going make it on that bit of money. Not in San Francisco you won't."

The woman's voice changed so suddenly that Emily was taken aback. "But my rent won't be more than... that, will it?"

Beatrice raised her brow. "You really don't have a clue do you? Well dear, it's not only the rent, and trying to find a safe place, but there's the food and a dozen or so other items you'll need." Her gaze dropped to Emily's clothes. "Then there's that getup you're wearing... gracious, I wouldn't go out and buy a loaf of bread in that."

Emily yanked on her skirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. "I've been traveling... and, I a"

"Oh sure, you could go out and buy yourself an outfit, but then... well, it's back to the living expenses." Beatrice smiled sadly, shaking her head. "And it looks like you've got no friends or relatives nearby that you can count on for help. Right?"

"Well, I-I. No, I don't." By now, Emily was close to tears. She'd had such high hopes on the way over.

"You know, dear, your lack of friends and finances are not your only worry."

"But I... I don't understand." She expected this woman to help her, not... well, whatever she was doing.

"Just a warning."

"A-about what?"

"For one, the bums that roam the streets. Stay clear of them, especially at night."

Emily recalled the man down by the waterfront. That look in his eyes frightened her silly.

"Now, listen. I don't mean to get you all spooked. You understand I'm just being realistic?"

"I think so."

"You do have a choice here."

"I do?"

"Work for me and you won't have to worry about any of it. No rent to pay, no food to buy. I'll even buy you a new wardrobe to start you off, from everyday clothes, to some pretty fancy dresses. And if you stick around long enough, play your cards right, you'll leave here in five, maybe ten years with enough money to start up a new life anywhere you like. Even buy a home for yourself."

"Me, buy a house?" Emily chuckled. "How's that possible?"

Beatrice smiled, flashing long white teeth Emily hadn't noticed before. "This is San Francisco. People are willing to pay plenty for the best." She stopped to size Emily up again. "After a little do-over, you've certainly got what it takes."

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that... I, uhm... I still can't understand how this is all possible. I mean, what'll I do, anyway, you know, without experience? Maxine told me..."

"Exactly why she brought you here." Beatrice moved to the edge of her seat, her voice almost tender now. "Listen, Emily, you'll never get a chance like this again. And if there's any training to do, one of my girls will give you a hand." She leaned forward and tapped Emily's knee. "Trust me?"

"Well... Yes, I do. But... what's my job? What kind of a place is this, anyway?" She looked around. "Is this it... where I'll work?"

"This'll be your home, and your workplace. Although what you see here is just the beginning." She relaxed back in her chair and smiled. "Listen, Emily, what we are is a... well... we're an exclusive private club. There's none other quite like us. There's too much detail to go into right now. But basically, we've got this spectacular lounge where people come to eat the best food around. After, they may want a drink or two, dance a little, enjoy entertainment, play some poker, and, uhm...just take pleasure in each other's company."

"So, it's a, restaurant?"

"Yeeah, it is, only much more. We have a fountain of wealth that flows through here, those who spend crazy amounts of money for our services. We even have visitors from other parts of the country. And, well, there'll be plenty of time to discuss the details. The important thing is... would you like to make some big money? Would you like to stay?"

Emily looked into a face that seemed sincere as any she had ever seen. "It's hard for me to understand how this'll all work, but... what do I know? So, yes, I'll stay."

"Wonderful!" Beatrice clapped her hands, leaping to her feet. "Come along then and I'll show you around."

Emily followed her out into the hallway onto shiny hardwood floors. "Up there are my private quarters," Beatrice said, gesturing toward a staircase just inside a small reception area.

They walked up a short hallway, and then up another. "We usually have around thirty girls," Beatrice continued as they passed a room where music filtered through a large oak door. "Besides you, there're five girls living here at the moment, but we have another fifteen that come in four or five nights a week. Your room will be on the second floor. We have a third floor we call the loft.You'll probably see that in a week or two."

Footsteps pattered down the stairs and two young women rounded the corner.

"Emily, I want you to meet a couple of my gals, Ginger and Blossom."

The girls gaped at Emily. She tried not to notice their tiny shorts and rolled up tops that revealed more than they concealed.

Beatrice cleared her throat. "Girls. I hope you haven't forgotten that the Pierdue party requested you for happy hour. That means up in the loft for early setup."

Ginger folded her arms, giving Emily a once over. "We haven't forgotten. Is she joining us?"

"Listen, you two," Beatrice said firmly, "as you can see, I'm just in the process of preparing her, and no, she won't be joining us tonight. Now run along. I'll talk to you later."

The girls disappeared through the oak door, and Beatrice and Emily continued up the hallway.

"Uhm, Beatrice, what's happy hour anyway?"

Beatrice stopped at the staircase, leaning to straighten one of the flowerpots that lined the steps all the way up and around the corner at the landing. "Just like it sounds. But you won't have to concern yourself with that for now." She stopped for a moment and looked at Emily. "You twenty-one?"

"No."

"Well, that's fine. Just remember, you can drink all you want here. Won't cost you a thing. But if you're out dining, no drinks unless you're with us. You hear?"

Emily, nodded, curious as to why she even brought it up.

Beyond the staircase, there was a large room with the same beautiful hardwood flooring, several leather couches and matching chairs, a television in the corner, and a pool table off to the side. "Now this is our game room." Beatrice nodded toward a back entrance. "Out there's a nice yard with a patio and a place to take in some sun."

Next, they moved down a short hallway and through a swinging door that led into a kitchen so stunning that it took Emily back for a moment. The room was a mixture of greens and yellows with hints of red in most of the trim and accessories, all of it set off by shiny black countertops. Her grandmother had talked of kitchens like this.

A woman standing in front of the stove turned curiously, raising her eyebrows.

"Emily, this is Toni. Toni, this is Emily."

"Such a pretty one," Toni said, nodding.

Emily shuffled the strap on her bag, greeting a woman with large black-rimmed glasses and determined eyes.

"Hi," she said, still caught off guard by the grandiose surroundings.

Toni looked to be nearing her mid-life, not exactly plump, but healthy and well-endowed rolled into one. She had thick, ear-length hair the color of porridge. Her dress and matching apron were almost the same shade of green as the cupboards and walls, and only a shade lighter than the green on the stove and refrigerator. Bright yellow canisters with red flowers up the front lined the black countertops. The double sinks were white. To her left, in front of a picture window, stood a long green table with matching end chairs, and benches on each side. The floor was covered with yellow vinyl tiles with streaks of red and green through the middle of each square.

Beatrice pulled a mug off a rack and poured herself a coffee. "There's always a hot pot of coffee on," she said to Emily, "and plenty of snacks whenever you like." She lifted a plate of cookies. "Want one?"

Emily shook her head. "No thanks."

Toni placed a lid back onto a pot and turned for a better look at Emily. "I hope you're not one of those finicky eaters trying to live on carrots and chicken wings for days on end, worrying about gaining a few pounds. You know, some men like a little meat on their gals."

Emily chuckled. "I like carrots, but not enough to live on. And I'll take a chicken breast or legs over a wing any day." She looked at the beautiful green electric stove with its silver trim, hoping she would be helping Toni with the cooking. "Sure like this kitchen. I imagine it could take someone out of a bad case of doldrums."

"See there, Bea?" Toni said, grinning at Beatrice. "That's exactly what I was trying to inspire when I recreated my Aunt Diana's kitchen."

"And why I let you decorate the kitchen instead of the lounge."

Toni snickered as she uncovered two loaves of bread that had been rising and were ready for the oven. "Everyone loves it, except you."

"I like it just fine, Toni." She sipped her coffee. "It just wouldn't be my choice, that's all."

The two laughed, and then Beatrice turned to Emily. "As you can see, besides Toni having an interesting eye for decorating, she makes sure there's enough food for everyone. She's usually done with her baking by five or so. Dinner's ready at six, and then Susan comes in around nine for the night shift."

"You're open all night?"

"Well, in the main kitchen we're open until ten. This area is for our girls who come and go as they please." She broke off a piece of cookie, popping it into her mouth. "Oh, and we have a couple of part-timers, a couple of retired sisters, Miss Jackie and Birdie. Susan's on call through the night five days a week. Although by one or so, she's usually in the maid's quarters. It's down the hall to your right. Now, if there's ever an emergency during the night, she's the one you get a hold of."

Beatrice took another sip of coffee, then placed her cup into the sink and turned to Emily. "Well... I guess that's enough for now. Let's go see your room."

"Oh, and Toni, don't forget to have some refreshments sent up to her room."

At the landing, they turned left and went up another flight of steps where it opened into a sprawling second story. Emily was amazed at how much larger the house was than she first thought. There was another staircase leading to what she figured was the loft. Whether it was instinct or what, she was glad they weren't going up. They walked to the far end of the hallway where Beatrice stopped to open a door. She motioned Emily into a sizeable room. There was a window at the far end with shades drawn up and pink frilly curtains draped to the side.

Emily crossed the room, set her bag on a table, and looked out into the back yard that was even larger than the front yard. There were tall trees and shrubs that circled an enormous grassy area.

Beatrice rested an elbow against the doorframe. "Tomorrow morning I'll take you shopping and get you some suitable clothes. But tonight I want you to stay in your room and relax, get to bed early. There's several bathrooms down the hall to your left. Take your shower before the other girls start theirs. Everything you'll need is up in the cupboards."

She straightened, looking around the room. "So, let's see, what else is there? Oh yes, and if you need anything, here's a bell that rings down into the kitchen." She pointed to a chain dangling next to the doorway. "Just give this a quick pull and whoever's in charge will come up."

She stepped into the hallway, turning back with her hand on the knob. "I've got to run, but I'll meet you in the kitchen first thing in the morning."

Alone now, Emily went to her bed and smoothed a hand over the lovely pink and white spread, and then moved about the room. Almost everything matched, including the pillows, curtains, flowerpots, candleholders, and a wastebasket. There was even a walk-in closet with a light and a full-length mirror on the door. Right now, she felt like a princess. It almost seemed too good to be true.

A large picture above her bed captured her attention, and she went over, tilting her head to the right, then to the left, trying to grasp what it was the artist had in mind. It was apparent many of the women were nude, although it was as if the painting had been thrown together. There were a number of other smaller paintings scattered about the room that looked much the same.

She studied them with amusement, then went to dig her dirty clothes out of her bag and took them to the bathroom to wash.

Back in her room, she hung her wet clothes in her closet to dry. She pulled off her shoes, took out the same book she'd been trying to read since she started her trip, and then lay across the bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Sunlight filtered through the mesh curtains, dropping a stream of light along the floor, up over the bedcovers, and across Emily's face. She stretched and yawned, and snuggled back in, reveling in the feel of the soft bed. And then it hit her exactly where she was. She peeked out of the covers at the clock that showed seven forty-five. There was a tray on the table with a bowl of soup and a slice of bread. Obviously Toni's doing.

She sat up and looked down at her wrinkled skirt and blouse, remembering she was about to embark on a shopping trip for store-bought clothes. She took her book out of the rumpled covers, laid it on the nightstand, and slipped out of bed.

Excited for the day ahead, she took a quick bath and put on a clean blouse and skirt. On her way back to her room, she listened for any activity, but it all seemed strangely quiet. She fixed her hair, sweeping it up in a ponytail. Then she put on her lace-up shoes, picked up the tray and headed down to the kitchen.

An attractive young woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair, probably in her early twenties, sat at the table reading a newspaper. A cup of coffee sat off to the side. There was a basket of bread and jelly in the middle of the table. She looked up as Emily walked in.

"Hi. You must be Emily," she said, setting the paper aside. "I'm Desirae. Big shopping trip today, huh?"

Emily placed the tray on the counter. "Yep, I'm really excited."

"Say, how long have you been doing this kind of work, anyway?"

Emily reached for a bag of puffed-wheat, glancing back. "Actually, I've been wondering myself exactly what I'll do." She grabbed a jug of milk from the refrigerator, poured some on her cereal, then set it back. "Beatrice didn't go into much detail, except that I'd be, let me see, serving guests... maybe guest service, like waitressing or something?"

"Ha, how typical."

"What?"

"Oh, just thinking out loud. Let me guess. You have no friends, no relatives nearby, and you were in desperate need of a job and a place to stay. Let me see... uhmm... a runaway maybe?"

That set Emily back for a moment. She took a seat, ate a couple spoons full of her cereal, and then smothered jelly on a piece of bread. Desirae was right on all counts, but to admit it would only mean more questions. One out of five would have to do. "You're right about the job," she said. She took a bite and wiped crumbs from the corner of her mouth. "You know I've done a lot of cooking." She really hoped she would be cooking.

Desirae giggled. "Cooking? Really? I doubt that's what Bea..." She thought for a moment. "Well, it's just that we've all learned to leave the cooking to the cook. You can't get any better'n ole Toni." She picked up large white mug, raised it in a salute then took a drink, leaving chocolate over her lips. "Mm, my favorite. Toni makes everything better." She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Of course, there's the kitchen in the lounge, but that's another ballgame in there. Anyway, no need to go into that." She sipped her chocolate beverage, set it aside, and then began folding up the newspaper. "I think the bottom line is that Beatrice is expecting you'll fit right in just like all the rest of us have. Hey, I'm just curious. How'd you find out about this place anyway?"

"A lady named Maxine brought me over. I met her at Mack's House of Food."