"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"I do not have morning sickness I will have you know," it was a white lie but it was always wise to admit as little as possible to Arabella lest the whole town know about it.
Arabella frowned. "Is that good? I mean, aren't you meant to get it? we should go and ask someone about that: Granny Miggins or Mrs Wigfall or someone who's had lots of kids." Maybe some folks just didn't get it, but Arabella took the health of pregnant Clara and her unborn God-daughter and namesake seriously!
"Oh and for your edification, I have absolutely zero interest in what Hector says about any topic. Kindly change the subject," Clara asserted.
"Oh, but he's just full of all sorts of interestin' facts and figures an' funny jokes, too. Like the other week in the saloon, this feller staggers in though the doors all covered in blood and falls down on the floor and gasps 'Oh [Damn] me fellers..." Arabella whispered the Damn part "... some [whore] just stabbed me to death with a letter opener!' and old Hector, he just looks over cool as you like and says 'Well, Mr Grimes, maybe she thought you was a letter!" when Arabella noticed that Clara wasn't laughing like she was, she added "Well, maybe you had to be there. It was funny the way Hector said it. Even Mr Grimes had to chuckle, lyin' there in a pool of his own blood. I tell you what, Clara, no way I can get all them blood stains out o' the saloon floor, I'm gonna tell Mr Flandry we should just paint the whole darn floor red! Ooh, these eggs is done."
"How is your new friend, ummm, Miranda?" Clara fully knew it was Miriam but she figured that would get Arabella going as she would be eager to correct her.
"Miranda!?" Arabella queried, then the penny dropped. "Oh, you mean Dollypops! Oh, she's fine. No, more than fine, she's just the most beautiful, wonderful, prettiest little Dollypops that ever was!" she corrected herself. "Tell you what though Clara, even though she come from New York, she's had ever such a sheltered life: I've had to teach her all sorts of things. Still, you wouldn't believe some of the tricks we get up to. Guess what we did together yesterday? Here's a clue..." she turned sideways on and pointed to her backside while giving Clara a knowing nod.
"Work is fine for killin' time, but it's a shaky way to make a living."
"Hmmm" Lorenzo agreed and then shrugged "Well, while we're talking of shows, what's this I hear about your Charlie up and becoming Deputy Marshall: does that mean he ain't intending to fight any more?" the bespectacled man asked with a genuine frown on his face. After all, he would hardly be able to ask the Deputy to arrest himself for bailing on his boxing contract, and he'd rather keep friendly with the law as far as possible.
"Charlie becoming a deputy was news to me as well. First heard about it from my Aunt Rebecca," Ben smiled, "She wasn't too pleased about it but I think she's over it now."
He looked over to the entrance to the kitchen and wondered how much longer his breakfast would be. Thankfully, the Mudd girl was still nowhere to be seen, so maybe he could enjoy it without having to go through another audition.
"As far as I know, he's still going to fight. Unless you know something that I don't," he told Crabbe in a light-hearted tone, "Besides, I think the fight is the least of my worries at the moment. According to you, I have go and find some shapely girls who can act and sing."
He thought for a moment about what he had just said. Finding a shapely girl shouldn't be that hard but then again maybe Crabbe was right. Kalispell wasn't a one-horse town, so there had to be someone out there just waiting to be discovered. Besides, the task would involve looking and talking to many women and that in itself would make it worthwhile.
"You know Crabbe, if it weren't for you, I would have no-one to remind me of how important it is to get the right ladies for my theatre. I'll make sure that I'll give you the credit you deserve."
"As far as I know, he's still going to fight. Unless you know something that I don't," he told Crabbe in a light-hearted tone.
Lorenzo rubbed his hands together, a smile of satisfaction decorating his face. "Well, that's good to hear, Ben my boy, mighty good to hear. Apart from saving me the inconvenience of finding another pugilist, I reckon half the town'll pay to come and watch the local law having ten bells knocked outta them!"
"Besides, I think the fight is the least of my worries at the moment. According to you, I have go and find some shapely girls who can act and sing."
"There's Caroline Mundee at the saloon: she can sure sing and half her act's showin' her legs. I mean she's kinda..." the word he wanted to use was 'slutty' but as her long-time friend he tried to think of a better way of putting it, especially as her brassy nature hid an actually reticent sexuality. "... well, let's just say she might not be overly convincing as the innocent Ingénue!"
He shrugged, and added philosophically: "You should audition her on stage, though. You can't tell until you see 'em up there, having to fill a great big place like that with their personality, you know what I mean?"
"You know Crabbe, if it weren't for you, I would have no-one to remind me of how important it is to get the right ladies for my theatre. I'll make sure that I'll give you the credit you deserve."
"Oh sure!" Crabbe grinned "If the thing's a smash, definitely tell folks it was all down to me. Course, if it's a failure, you'd best keep my name outta the thing." he joked in reply. "So, where you puttin' this wing-ding on - White Rose, I suppose?" he asked, thinking the recently deserted building would make the obvious place to convert into a theatre.
"Work is fine for killin' time, but it's a shaky way to make a living."
Ben nodded, "I was considering the White Rose as a possible venue. However, there is one small hitch...it's owned by the bank. I'll have to work out something that my uncle will like so that I can get it on terms that I can afford."
He tapped his fingers on the table as he thought about his problem of getting the White Rose. Uncle Charles would need some serious convincing that the theatre was a worthwhile venture. If only there was a way....
A huge smile crept on his face, "You know Crabbe, you might come in handy after all."
Clara got mostly what she figured she would by the mere mention of Ara's friend's name - well the wrong name but that had been deliberate. Ara became every animated and enthusiastic (even for Ara!) as she gushed about the other girl. Goodness sakes, Dollypops though? What an awful nickname. But on the other hand, she was glad for Ara that she had found such a grand friend.
It ended though with a bit too much information, Clara looked puzzled at the other girl, "I have no idea what that means and I am quite uncertain I wish it to be explained to me either. Besides, I need to serve our customers."
A mere couple of minutes later, Clara carried out then set two heaping plates in front of Mr. Simon and Mr. Crabbe, "There you go, gentlemen. Salt and pepper is on the table. Would either of you like any cream or sugar or both for your coffees?"
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Clara got mostly what she figured she would by the mere mention of Ara's friend's name - well the wrong name but that had been deliberate. Ara became every animated and enthusiastic (even for Ara!) as she gushed about the other girl. Goodness sakes, Dollypops though? What an awful nickname. But on the other hand, she was glad for Ara that she had found such a grand friend.
It ended though with a bit too much information, Clara looked puzzled at the other girl, "I have no idea what that means and I am quite uncertain I wish it to be explained to me either. Besides, I need to serve our customers."
A mere couple of minutes later, Clara carried out then set two heaping plates in front of Mr. Simon and Mr. Crabbe, "There you go, gentlemen. Salt and pepper is on the table. Would either of you like any cream or sugar or both for your coffees?"
"Work is fine for killin' time, but it's a shaky way to make a living."
A mere couple of minutes later, Clara carried out then set two heaping plates in front of Mr. Simon and Mr. Crabbe,"There you go, gentlemen. Salt and pepper is on the table. Would either of you like any cream or sugar or both for your coffees?"
"Black will be fine," Ben answered. He looked down at his plate, before picking up his fork and tasting the bacon. "As usual, it tastes as good as it smells. My compliments, Mrs. Lutz."
As he waited for Crabbe to respond, Ben had a chance to think about his plan. Aunt Rebecca had been working on way to help the young ladies in town for a while now. She had heard about the tabloid that some of them had put on at the recent town meeting and she hadn't been impressed. It wasn't the fact that they had presented a tabloid, it was the way they had gone about it that concerned her.
Since Rebecca was his mother's sister, she did have a have leaning towards the theatrical. In fact, the Martin clan had a few actors and actresses littered in its past and in the present. There was a cousin treading the boards somewhere in New York and another one in Denver, so it wouldn't take much to convince her that what Kalispell needed was a local theatre group where the young ladies could learn a few things. All he had to do was make it sound respectable in order to get Uncle Charles' approval.
After taking a few more bites of his breakfast, he turned to Crabbe, "I want to ask you about your ward, Bridget. Would she be interested in joining a young ladies group, if my Aunt was in charge of it?"
A huge smile crept on his face, "You know Crabbe, you might come in handy after all."
"Well Ben, you know I ain't hard to get along with, what'd you want?"
Clara carried out then set two heaping plates in front of Mr. Simon and Mr. Crabbe,"There you go, gentlemen. Salt and pepper is on the table. Would either of you like any cream or sugar or both for your coffees?"
"Black will be fine," Ben answered. He looked down at his plate, before picking up his fork and tasting the bacon. "As usual, it tastes as good as it smells. My compliments, Mrs. Lutz."
"Er, yeah, me too." added Lorenzo distractedly, wondering what Simons was after.
After taking a few more bites of his breakfast, he turned to Crabbe, "I want to ask you about your ward, Bridget. Would she be interested in joining a young ladies group, if my Aunt was in charge of it?"
"Why sure! She'd be tickled pink to join that there... er, 'Young Ladies Group'" he beamed. Frankly, anything that got Bridget off his hands for a few hours was welcome. He'd run a few 'Young Ladies Groups' of his own in the past, of course, but he suspected that this was something a little more upmarket and respectable.
"So, er, what happens at this 'Young Ladies Group'?" he asked, making it pretty clear he had agreed to something on his ward's behalf without really knowing what it was.
Both men were content with their coffees black and Mr. Simons was even kind enough to throw her a compliment, those were the kind of customers she loved.
"Why thank you, sir. I will check back later to see if you two want anything else," Clara nodded then went to check on the Weavers who were about finished. They were still a bit peeved about the 'loud and lewd saloon trash' who had disturbed their breakfast.
"Now that is being rather harsh, the girl is an orphan who almost died in Whitefish. Not all of us have had proper upbringings and it is doubtful she gets it over at the saloon," Clara sprang to Ara's defense.
"I consider her a friend of mine though I fully admit I can do nothing to control her ......outlandish at times behavior."
The Weavers frowned and shrugged but did not continue that train of thought, merely said they were done and Clara could take their plates.
"Oh I can do that later if you two wish to pay then head out?" Clara responded.
A few minutes later Clara was back in the gallery with both hands full of dishes, marching them up to Arabella.
"Honestly, Arabella, you really need to be more circumspect with your pronouncements...and actions. The Weavers were affronted," she sighed.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
A few minutes later Clara was back in the gallery with both hands full of dishes, marching them up to Arabella.
"Putt'm in the sink, I'll just get some fresh water!" Arabella chirruped happily in her work, humming the odd snatch of 'Carry Me Back To Old Virginny' as she went.
"Honestly, Arabella, you really need to be more circumspect with your pronouncements...and actions.
"Uh?" she queried dumbly.
"The Weavers were affronted," she sighed.
"Oh that! Oh they're just Philistines, them Weavers, and should be slewed with a jawbone of a ass. Ol' Shakespeare was always using cuss words, don't stop it bein' high toned stuff. Oh well, I don't wanna lose you customers, I'll go and say sorry before they leave!" she offered and flew out of the door to the front of the diner where she gave an audible gasp of horror and came scuttling back into the kitchen again and literally sheltered herself behind Clara, peeping back around her into the seated area.
"Oh Lawd she comin' Clara! It's that blind girl, I'm scared of her! I'm scared she'll see me! I... I..." Arabella struggled to put the source of her angst into words "I don't know what to say to her!"
"You'd better go out and see to her - I'll hide out o' sight in here and do the dishes!" she decided, pouncing on the pile of dirty dishes that she was about to wash up anyway, and looking around nervously, like the sightless young woman might glide into the kitchen at any second and put her on the spot. It certainly was a curious phobia for one who numbered the crippled and freakishly hirsute amongst her best friends.
The bell tinkled and a young woman wearing a bandage around her eyes and using a stick to feel her way walked quite confidently into the place.