Dancing With Velvet
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication.
with Velvet
by
Judy Nickles
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Dancing with Velvet
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Judy Nickles
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Tina Lynn Stout
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Vintage Rose Edition, 2012
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-199-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-200-2
Published in the United States of America
“In
THE SHOWBOAT AFFAIR
Gwyneth Greer spins a delightful story full of family, deceit, romance, mystery, rebuilding relationships, and hope for the future….The Showboat Affair is a delightful page turner; a heartwarming tale of starting over.”
~Valerie, Romancing the Book
“
THE SHOWBOAT AFFAIR
is a heart-warming love story with a splash of intrigue and mystery…Cleverly written, I couldn't put this book down!”
~Wendy L. Hines, The Minding Spot
THE SHOWBOAT AFFAIR
: “Fast-paced storyline that draws you in--deeply, emotionally…This is one you'll enjoy from Chapter One to The End.”
~Vonnie Davis, TWRP author
~*~
Judy Nickles/Gwyneth Greer also has short stories published online at
A Long Story Short
and
Literary Magic
, in print anthologies
‘Tis the Season
(Editor’s Choice Award),
My First Year in the Classroom
,
The Heart and the Harsh—Patriots Dream
, in print magazine
The Storyteller
, with an Honorable Mention in “Write to Win” in
Writer’s Journal
.
To my parents, Charles and Wilma Moore,
who spoke of the Roof Garden often
and smiled.
Special thanks to Rick Smith, columnist for the
San Angelo Standard Times,
who wrote four columns in response to my query about information on the St. Angelus Hotel and Roof Garden.
~*~
Thanks also to the following people who contacted Rick and shared their memories:
Bill Wynne
Florence McClellan
Bill Kershaw
Linney Peeples
Ross McSwain
Wyvon McCrohan
Melba Carmichael
Hazel Dooley
Ron Perry
Jim McCoy
Adela Jeschke
Bill Edgar
Benny and Mary Stuard
~*~
Suzanne Campbell, Director of the West Texas Collection, and her wonderful staff helped me with long-distance research, and also made available the picture of the St. Angelus for use on the book’s cover.
Chapter One
The blue velvet curtain billowing in an unseen wind revealed the man she hardly dared think of, though no matter how many times she saw him, she could never describe him to anyone. But she knew him…loved him…longed for him to take her in his arms as the music swelled beyond the velvet portiere. His fingers on her cheek electrified her. Then he smoothed her hair away from her face, and let his hand skim her shoulder and drift down her arm until he enveloped her hand in his. Leaning toward her, he brushed her lips, then her throat. An unbearable ache possessed her body.
Smiling in silent invitation, he stepped away from her, moving inexorably toward the shimmering midnight blue drape until it parted. Though he stood there waiting, his hand extended, beckoning her beyond the confines of her sheltered life, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift her arm. His smile faded, and the curtain billowed outward, this time with the roar of the ocean, and swept him away before falling limp and still. She thought she heard him calling her, but her lips wouldn’t part in response. When she woke, her pillow was wet with tears.
****
“Come on, Cece, it’s the weekend. Put away that dreary paper bag and come with us to Concho Drug for lunch.”
Celeste shook her head, wishing her straight shoulder-length hair, the color of her paper lunch sack, didn’t fall over her face every time she moved, and continued to spread her lunch on the desk. “Thanks, Marilyn, but I’m going to eat here. Saves money.”
“Isn’t that what we work for? Money to do something fun with?”
“Sure, I guess, but I’ve got a Christmas layaway at Cox-Rushing-Greer, and I need every penny.”
“Then be that way. I’ll think of you and that boring apple when I’m eating my yummy grilled cheese.” With a toss of her head and a friendly wink, the other girl swept out of the upstairs office at Woolworth.
Celeste’s mouth twisted with regret as she refastened the tortoiseshell barrette that was supposed to keep her shiny hair in place. It might have been nice to go out to lunch with Marilyn and the others for a change, but it was already the end of October, and she’d told the truth—she needed every penny to pay for the Christmas presents she’d bought for her sister Coralee, her brother-in-law Ben, and her three-year-old niece Barbara.
She needed some things, too, like dresses for work and a new pair of shoes. So far she’d gotten by with her high school and junior college wardrobe, but it made her appear school-girlish. Being upstairs in the office kept her out of the public eye, and her boss, Mr. Thomas, didn’t seem to care what she looked like as long as she did her job.
He wouldn’t, either. He liked her and said she was the best assistant bookkeeper he’d had in years, since his wife retired to stay home with their three daughters. Celeste bit into her apple and leaned back in the padded chair Mr. Thomas had scraped up for her.
The work wasn’t hard. She was good with numbers and liked seeing them balance out. Working up here instead of down on the floor had a lot of advantages, not to mention a fatter paycheck. She got off at four every afternoon and at noon on Saturdays.
Today, Friday, she’d done the payroll first thing this morning. With luck, there would be just enough time after work to deposit her check and walk down to the department store to make a payment before she met her father at the bank for her ride home.
She thought, without enthusiasm, of the weekend ahead. Her father would start drinking as soon as they got home. She didn’t cook much on weekends because he didn’t eat, just holed up on the back porch or in his bedroom with a bottle. It had been that way for as long as she could remember, or, at least, since her mother died when she was five.
Fourteen years. Had it been so long? Though she kept a framed picture of Anne Riley on her dressing table, it was becoming harder and harder to remember the woman she called Mamma. Her older sister Coralee had more memories because she’d been twelve. Though she answered Celeste’s questions readily enough, lately Celeste had the feeling there were things Coralee left out.
Sometimes, if she thought about it hard enough, Celeste could pull up vague memories of special occasions like Christmas, when she’d snuggled in her father’s lap on Christmas Eve to hear him read
The Night Before Christmas.
The year her mother died, they hadn’t even had a tree. In succeeding years, Coralee managed to scrounge a tree and presents, but their father never acknowledged the holiday except with more liquid “holiday cheer.”
Too soon, Coralee finished high school and married Ben, who took her to live on his family’s ranch in Sterling City. When Ben’s parents, Big Ben and Pearl, offered to take Celeste to the ranch, too, her father smashed a vase and a couple of her mother’s leprechaun figurines, and yelled, “Hell, no!” before Coralee hustled Celeste off to her room and closed the door.
“Why won’t he let me go, Sister? He never pays any attention to me anyway. It’s like I’m not even here.”
“We’ll work it out, sweetie, I promise.” Coralee wrapped Celeste in her arms and stroked her hair.
They hadn’t worked it out, but Coralee got the last word anyway. She told August Riley she didn’t want him to even come to the wedding, much less walk her down the aisle, and he hadn’t. Celeste always thought there was more to that decision than the fact he wouldn’t let her go to the ranch, but Coralee put her off every time she brought it up.
Celeste shook her head. No use thinking about all that now. She’d been lucky, getting a scholarship to the junior college and being able to work her classes around her job in the notions department at Woolworth. Then, when she finished last spring, Mr. Thomas hired her for the office at a nice increase in salary. Soon afterward, her nights became filled with blue velvet and tears.
Celeste leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Will it be like this forever? Going to work, going home…going nowhere?
“Not going out with the others, Miss Riley?”
Celeste startled. “Oh, no, sir, I have my lunch here, Mr. Thomas.”
“Seems to me a young girl like you would want to go out and have some fun.”
“I go with them sometimes.”
“You should go more often.”
“Maybe.”
“Is it the money? Do you need more?”
“No, sir, I get along fine. It’s just that Christmas is coming, and I’ve got to think ahead.”
“Most girls your age wouldn’t.”
Celeste smiled and shrugged.
“But, of course, your daddy’s a banker. I guess he taught you how to handle money.”
“Yes, sir.” It was a lie. Daddy never taught her anything, and he never paid for anything either except the household expenses. Even then, he went over the grocery bill with a fine-tooth comb and made her justify every purchase, as well as kick in five dollars a week for her board.
Sometimes Celeste wondered if he knew how carefully she planned meals and shopped. Or how she managed to put clothes on her own back, since he never contributed a penny in that direction. By the time she was twelve, Celeste was earning her own money by babysitting and cleaning house for a couple of neighbor women who seemed to know she needed the work. Shortly after beginning high school, she’d gotten the job at Woolworth.
“Well, enjoy your lunch. I’m going to run home for a few minutes. I guess you’ve already done the payroll.”
“Yes, sir. The checks are ready for you to look over and sign.”
“Good girl. I’ll take care of them as soon as I get back.”
Celeste watched him leave, then curled up in a tight ball in her chair and closed her eyes. Everyone thought the banker’s daughter lived such a charmed life. She had decent clothes only because she worked to earn the money for them and because Coralee came to San Angelo several times a year and took her shopping.
Celeste always protested that Coralee shouldn’t buy her so much, but Coralee always came back with, “Ben’s father pays me a salary for keeping his ranch accounts, and I can do what I want to with the money. Ben says I couldn’t spend it any better than on you. I want you to have nice things like your friends.”
Her father never seemed to know or care how she managed to dress properly or afford things like a class ring or a yearbook or a dress for the senior prom. Actually, she and Coralee made her dress with help from Pearl. Her date, Pete Frame, said she was the prettiest girl there.