Page 18 of Silver Lining
With her valuables safely seen to, Low Down was free to attend to the distasteful chore of acquiring dresses. To her surprise, there were ready-made shops along Fifteenth Street displaying dresses in their windows. She walked along the storefronts, peering at gowns targeted to high society right down the scale to dresses fit for ordinary women. By angling her head at an awkward tilt, she caught a glimpse of a few price tags and gasped. The prices matched the high-faluting array of ruffles and bows and braids and ribbons.
She could only think that Max hadn't known the cost of female fashion when he'd insisted on paying.
Certainly she hadn't. And she was no more inclined to waste his money than to waste hers. Waste not, want not.
The secondhand shop was where she remembered it, thank heaven, on a side street mired in horse droppings, where the sanitation arrangements still consisted of hogs wandering free between the buildings. The pungent odor of boiling malt wafted from the brewery, and the saloon on the corner still offered nickel beer. The city fathers probably wouldn't agree, but it was comforting to discover that some things hadn't changed.
She didn't have to wind up her courage to walk into the secondhand shop, and it didn't bother her when the woman behind the counter looked her up and down then rolled her eyes in disbelief.
Low Down grinned. "I need the works, starting from the skin out. Undies, stockings, shoes, a couple of dresses, a coat, a hat, gloves, a bag."
"Honey, you need a scrub bath, a hair wash, and a bonfire for them duds you got hanging on yourself."
Cupping her hands around her mouth, the woman shouted toward a door at the back of the store.
"Mazie? Get on out here. We got us a real challenge to deal with."
A deep sigh started high in Low Down's chest and emerged as a breath of relief. She'd come to the right place.
*
The sun was sinking toward the mountains west of town before she returned to the Belle Mark, her feet dragging with reluctance as she approached the dreaded man in the green uniform.
She was so intent on planning how she might sneak past him that she didn't immediately notice a well-dressed gent sitting on a bench beneath the awning smoking a cigar. When she realized it was Max, she stopped in her tracks and her mouth dropped.
He wore a low crowned hat over freshly barbered hair, and a dark suit set off by a snowy boiled shirt, maroon vest, and neat dark tie. His boot tops were polished to such a high shine that he could undoubtedly see the underside of the awning when he looked down.
"Well, my gawd," she said softly, walking up to him. "Maybe you have the makings of a banker after all."
A whiff of bay rum caught her attention and the rich scent reminded her that maybe she should have purchased a small bottle of lady's fragrance. Such a thought made her smile. She had never owned perfume or ever imagined that she might want to.
Max stood and removed his hat as polite as you please, and that was another first. Men didn't usually doff their hats to Low Down. She didn't look, but she hoped the snooty man in the green uniform was watching.
Max extended his arm. "I'll escort you to our suite."
"A suite? Well la-ti-da," she said lightly, trying to sound like the idea of a suite didn't make her nervous.
And she accepted Max's arm as if they were sharing a joke. She could tell he felt as ridiculous offering his arm as she felt about taking it. "Are all ranchers as rich as you?"
"This is a one-night extravagance."
Everyone in the vicinity watched them enter the Belle Mark, or so it seemed. Inside, Low Down cringed and shrank from waves of silent condemnation. And suddenly she was glad for Max's rock-solid arm because she needed something to cling to during the endless walk through the lobby and then up the grand staircase.
For years she had operated under the theory that if she kept her eyes downcast and didn't glance up, then no one would notice her. Therefore, she didn't see much of the lobby except the marble floor followed by a crimson-and-gold carpet that flowed up the staircase. But she managed a sidelong impression of shining brass and mirrors and frothy arrangements of ferns and elegantly dressed people perched on expensive furniture. Piano music shimmered from a nearby room, the rune so soft and sweet that it made Low Down's chest tighten.
Once Max led her around a curve and out of sight of the lobby, she released a breath of relief as if she had slipped safely through a gauntlet. Now she could look around.
"Oh look! There are brass numbers on each door! And crystal globes on the lamps!" The carpet runner displayed a riot of dark-colored flowers and was lovely enough to frame, and there were towering arrangements of fresh lilies on every stair landing. "I ain't never been in a place like this," she whispered to Max, too excited and awed to remember not to say "ain't." "And I never will be again. Ain't it just amazing?"
"Your parcels are inside the room," he informed her, bending to insert the key in the lock. He pushed the door open, then consulted his pocket watch. "It's five o'clock now. I made dinner reservations at the hotel dining room for eight. I'll return around seven-thirty. Will that give you enough time to—" he touched his tie and fumbled for words "—freshen up?"
Her impulse was to ask where he was going, but that was none of her business. And she was disappointed that he wouldn't be present when she examined her purchases. She didn't trust her judgment and would have liked his opinion about her new dresses. Oh hell, what was she thinking of? Men knew even less about fashion than she did.
"I'll be ready," she promised, watching him close the door behind him. The air where he'd stood smelled of bay rum and cigar smoke, and she inhaled deeply, wondering if he would keep his promise about doing some poking tonight.
Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she shoved the thought aside. Besides, he hadn't really promised it would happen tonight. He'd only said maybe.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped out of the foyer and into the suite was the pile of packages she'd purchased. Boxes and bags completely covered a blue-striped sofa and spilled onto the floor. No wonder Max had seemed so terse. He must be angry about how much money she'd spent. She'd been upset herself when she saw the final bill. The only thing that helped was guessing what her duds would have cost if she'd bought them new from the ready-made shops.
