Back to Business

André sat in his office chair Tuesday morning with his feet stretched out on the edge of his desk, a pleased expression on his face. On his lap lay 4 sheets of paper. One was a flyer announcing that the musicians who had played at the social would be performing a concert in the town central park on Friday night. The other three contained a letter from his friend in Canada, Outwest. The flyer was put aside as he read the tight, excited script from his friend. Outwest had finally decided to come to California to see his friend. He was excited to leave the Perrin Farm and begin his life away from the shadow of his father. André had understood that need perfectly, offering to put him up at his ranch. He liked the idea of persuading his friend to start his own horse farm in Mountain Junction. The idea of an exclusive horse farm was appealing on two fronts. First, a high-end enterprise would boost an already swelling economy, and second, his open involvement with a legitimate business would impress Julie who also understood horseflesh. The more he thought about a Perrin farm on the mountain, the more he liked the idea. His mind was already racing, having already decided that his stallion would be offered for stud, at a nice price of course.

It had been a winning morning for André. David had been in the office early, as André knew he would be, with the demanded books and bank statements reflecting the true balance. The pleasure of the annoyed expression from David when he was told that the threatened, accountant would still be reporting for work at the mill the next morning had broadened André’s already victorious smile. He had left the office in his phaeton, stopping at the Inn before heading out to the Maison to go over the books with Anna. Over a cup of steaming coffee, he had talked Julie into both lunch that afternoon, and the concert on Friday night. André was once again king of the mountain.

He drove up the lush lane slowly in his phaeton drawn by a beautiful black Frisian, her long mane, tail, and fetlock hair rising and falling in comfortable strides. Although he preferred riding Seizemain to taking the rig, he did love to drive Ravisant to the Maison. It reminded him of his boyhood in France. Trotting her up through the lane of heavy trees and drawing to a stop in front of the magnificent chateau facade, made him feel as if he had come home. He stopped at the large wooden doors under the columned porch, and turned to look out on the front garden. For an instant, he was in France again, and could almost smell the air of his boyhood. Smiling, he walked through the front foyer and into the main sitting room of the Maison.

In the fashionable parlor, a few remnants of the night before still lingered. One man André did not recognize sat across the bottom of the stairs in the foyer, his hat drawn down over his eyes. Three others rested comfortably on the round settee in the center of the foyer. Money, deciding against the saloon and Hawk’s ever-present eyes on Morgan had come out to the Maison instead. He now lay sprawled out on one of the beige chintz couches, his head wedged against the arm, snoring. Nearby, Mendoza lay asleep in a wing-backed chair, his hands laced across his large belly. Many of the girls were milling around the rooms, picking up articles they had carelessly dropped the night before, or simply enjoying a quiet morning cup of coffee, before Anna began her morning critique of the previous night’s business. As each of them saw André, he was greeted with smiles and hellos. Leaning against the wooden pocket doorframe, he smiled and winked appreciatively at the girls as they crossed his path.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck the half-hour. André automatically pulled on the fob of his pocket watch to check the time. One of the girls, a small, saucy redhead everyone called Angel, was at his side, admiring the old gold watch in an instant.

“Got time for me, Messy-ore?” she asked with a wink, making sure to brush up against his arm.

“I always have time for a song from my Angel,” he said with a grin. But for once, it was her eyes he looked into, thinking that it was a shame they were not green.

“A song? At this hour?” The disappointment in her voice was evident, but she tried to hide it. “Besides, Cindy is still downing her morning coffee, and you know how much coffee it takes to wake her up after a busy night.”

“Well, if you were as busy as I was, you would need as much as I do!” came a voice from the kitchen. A tall blonde strode across the foyer and smiled at André. At 5’8”, Cindy was by far the tallest girl in the house, with a personality to match it. She was one of the most popular girls in the establishment. Boisterous, brash and fun loving, she was always the first with a joke, the first with a smile, and the first to make it down the stairs in the evening, before the rush started. She would flounce into the parlor, sit down at the piano, and start playing. She didn’t play all that well, but her enthusiasm as she attacked the keys always drew a crowd of men to the piano, all vying for the best place to stand and watch her ample bosom bounce with the tempo of the music.

Angel stole a quick glance at André, who was looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t listen to her Messy-ore. I was just as busy as she was. In fact, I had several repeats,” she glared at Cindy, “after they recovered.”

“Well, they have to recover with me too!” Cindy snapped, her coffee slopping dangerously near the rim, “I just keep 'em with me while they do it!”

“Actually, I would prefer that you let them come back downstairs. They will drink to gather strength, and,” he said pointedly, “they have to pay to get back upstairs.”

The small redhead stuck her tongue out at Cindy. Cindy, upset at the reprimand and the thought of being one upped by Angel, began to yell, her voice rising with every epitaph. André was about to say something, when the voice of Money filled the room.

“Hey!!!! Keep it down out there! If I wanted to hear screaming, I’d have a damn wife!

Both girls looked sheepishly at André, and stole quick glances toward the kitchen, afraid that the ever-present ears of Anna had been roused. Angel quickly ran into the parlor to shimmy up to Money, and offer to massage the crick in his neck the arm of the settee had caused. Cindy, still stinging from the earlier comment, was doing her best to flirt her way out of trouble. “How about a song, Frenchie?” She asked with a grin.

“Yes, a song from you and Angel is always preferable to the bickering, and,” he said with a smile, “will get these customers back into the mood to spend money.” He watched with a twinkle as disappointment ran across Cindy's face. She had hoped he would be the one singing. Giving him her best smile, she strutted into the room, grabbed Angel from the neck of money, and the two were soon filling the house with a bawdy song. It was not long before the sleeping forms were all up again, rubbing their eyes. The song roused the other girls as well; soon the parlor was filled with noise, glass clinking, and the girls buzzing about the men like bees.

André stuck his head into the kitchen, but when he saw that Anna was busy preparing the morning breakfasts, he decided not to bother her yet. He had made up his mind to make up some of the ground lost by falling off his horse and loosing the race to Julie. Swallowing his pride earlier in the morning he had invited her to picnic with him in the park. The problem was, he was hopeless in a kitchen. He usually took his meals at the Maison, or at the dance hall. Anna, however, was a far superior cook than the burly man in the sparse little kitchen at the Can Can, and André planned to turn his charms on Anna to make him a picnic lunch. Knowing that he needed her in a good mood, he turned and re-entered the lively parlor.

When Mendoza saw him, he left Swoon, the youngest of the girls at the house and strode over to André and pumped his hand. The two men talked at length about Mendoza’s upcoming barn raising, with André suggesting that he reinforce the sides. Money, who had taken Mendoza’s place by the young girl’s side was listening intently while caressing her hair with one hand, and swigging down whiskey with the other. As he drank, he began to notice how much the young blonde resembled Morgan, and he was finding it harder to concentrate on the conversation. He forced himself to listen, however, knowing that David would be interested in anything Jermond said to Mendoza concerning lumber. When Mendoza balked at the idea of reinforcing the sides of his barn, Money took note that André offered a discount on the extra lumber, knowing that simple act would send David into fits.

Anna entered the parlor to tell the girls that breakfast was ready, and to offer the standard-priced simple breakfast to any of the stragglers left behind. She was surprised at the number of men still in the room, and looked at André with a conspirator’s smile. He grinned back at her, as he shrugged. “Nothing like the voice of an Angel to keep you in heaven, no?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Yes, but now I’m going to have to make more food,” she faux-complained. “Thank you, so very much,” she added, crossing her arms.

“Well, have someone else cook the extras, and we can jack up the price by offering a companion for breakfast ... upstairs.” Remembering his need of a picnic he quickly added, “If they are suitably pre-occupied, they wont notice the lackluster taste.”

“Ever the businessman, Mr. Jermond,” smiled Anna. “Are you going to have time to tell me about the social, or are you planning on occupying yourself for breakfast?”

“You know I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’m here to discuss the books.” He looked at the crowded parlor, now filled with men who had been asleep upstairs as well as the downstairs stragglers. “By the looks of it, they should be very good.” As he scanned the room, he noticed that Stella was not among the singing, smiling girls. “Where is Miss Stella this morning? I would have thought she would be down here too, wanting to hear about the social on Sunday.”

Anna laughed. “You know how the customers are after any church function, André. They are eager to work off the steam brought about by all that ‘clean living’ forced upon them by their wives and the Almighty. I let her sleep in this morning.”

André let it go, even though he thought to himself that Stella would have been downstairs anyway, despite a late night, if it meant she would hear about the dresses the ladies wore and who they danced with. She always did that, even though she knew from experience that he was the last person to ask for details. He was notorious for not remembering what the ladies’ names were, let alone what they wore. He was always bored at church functions, only showing up because he wanted to make an appearance as the county gentleman. Until Sunday, he had usually exited as quickly as propriety would allow. Had he not needed Anna’s help with the picnic, he would have been tempted to tell her to wake Stella anyway. She was one of the Maison's biggest draws.

Anna watched André with a smile. He was after something, she could feel it. He only gave in to her easily if he wanted something from her, usually a good meal. He was busy watching the revelry in the parlor, and he missed her look of amusement. “Do you want to see the books?”

André had spotted Justice Henderson, the owner of the local brickyard in the parlor, and was eager to discuss the need for a new building in town. Watching him being entertained at the prime spot at the piano, however, he decided that there would be plenty of time to talk to the man after going over the books. “Yes, if you give me one of your famous biscuits with my coff—”

Just then, Money swayed into the foyer, the young Swoon doing her best to keep him on his feet to get him upstairs. He saw André with Anna and standing as upright as possible, asked if he could have his breakfast upstairs. Anna smiled and complied, excusing herself to go into the kitchen to get one of the Maison’s housemaids to do the extra cooking. Money turned back to Swoon, André’s presence already forgotten. “Come on, Morgan,” he slurred, “let’s go have breakfast in bed!”

André watched the two go upstairs, filing away the use of Morgan’s name for future reference. Turning toward the kitchen, he was already smiling and scheming on the best way to get Anna to add a load of biscuits to his picnic basket.

Chapter 1 ... André
Chapter 2 ... Julie
Chapter 3 ... Clyde
Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
*Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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