The Glass Inferno

CHAPTER 18

The trip in the scenic elevator had been spectacular and even frightening and Lisolette had not been shy in clinging to Harlee most of the way up. As they stepped into the foyer of the Promenade Room, she couldn’t resist saying, “As many times as I’ve had lunch here, I’ve never come up this way. It’s like my cousin in New York who’s never been to the top of the Empire State Building- ” Claiborne was flattered, as he suspected Lisolette meant him to be. He offered his arm and Lisolette took it firmly, allowing him to guide her toward the reservation desk. “My dear, you can’t imagine what a pleasure it is to have such a charming dinner companion to show off.”

“Many compliments like that and you’ll Turn my head, even at my age, Harlee.”

“I would consider myself lucky if I could.” He paused before the desk and waited for Quinn Reynolds, the hostess, to return. “Odd,” he said, “I’ve always wondered why they didn’t have a maitre d’ up here.”

“It’s the luncheon trade, Harlee-the clientele is mostly women who have come to do their shopping down below. I imagine they feel more at ease with a hostess and waitresses.” She looked through the windows of the dining room to the thick clouds outside. “Thank goodness, we don’t have to go out to dine on a night like tonight.”

Quinn Reynolds approached from the dining floor and Claiborne smiled at her somewhat warily. “Good evening, Miss Reynolds, reservations for two?”

For a moment Quinn seemed to hesitate and Claiborne felt his stomach start to knot. She knew, he thought.

Quinn glanced down at her reservation list and then up, at Lisolette, who was still holding tightly to Claiborne’s arm, glowing with pleasure at the prospects of the evening ahead. “Of course, Mr. Claiborne.” She broke into a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Mueller. Won’t.”

you come this way?” She picked up two black-edged menus and led them down the steps to the dining floor and a far table near one of the windows. Claiborne helped Lisolette out of her coat, which Quinn-took, then held her chair while she seated herself and draped the huge, white bird of a napkin carefully on her lap.

Before Claiborne had a chance to sit down, Quinn said easily, “I wonder if I might see you a moment, Mr. Claiborne? We’ll have to make a substitution on the wine you asked to have chilled and my only available list at the moment is at the desk.”

Claiborne shrugged. “Of course.” He knew perfectly well what she wanted. He made apologies to Lisolette, and followed Quinn back to her desk.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Claiborne,” Quinn said quietly, once out of range of Lisolette’s hearing. “I know this is embarrassing but your bill here is now almost two hundred dollars. Accounting has notified me not to accept your signature until that has been settled.” She was uncomfortable in telling him, Claiborne could ten, but determined.

“My dear,” he said, patting her hand, “you’re a charming girl and I have no desire to cause you embarrassment. I’ll take care of my account tomorrow. It’s just that I’ve encountered a temporary cash flow problem; all of that is cleared up now.”

The muscles jumped in Quinn’s cheeks and her voice chilled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Claiborne, but I have my orders.

Frankly, I wish I could accept your signature tonight I’m quite fond of Miss Mueller and I realize your embarrassment would be hers as well.

…”

“No matter, my dear,” Claiborne said lightly, “I’ll be very glad to take care of the bill by cash tonight.”

Quinn smiled. “That will be fine, Mr. Claiborne-I’m sorry these things happen. Do have a pleasant evening.”

“I’m sure we will, Miss Reynolds.” He retraced his steps to the table, thinking grimly: It has to be tonight.

Much as he liked Lisolette, there was no other way out -he might even be evicted from the building tomorrow.

He was sure, when the time came to pay the bill, that he could pretend he had left his wallet below. Miss Reynolds’wouldn’t cause a fuss, if for no other reason than out of deference to Lisolette. But she would report it to the manager. And, of course, there would be no chance that he would be seated in the future.

Lisolette looked up at him as he sat down. “Any trouble, Harlee?

You were gone so long…”

“Trouble? Of course not, my dear no,real problem at all. You’ll have a cocktail, of course?”’ “You’re trying to lead me astray,” Lisolette said, her eyes sparkling.

He laughed. “Perhaps.” She ordered a frozen daiquiri and he hesitated a moment, then asked for a double martini. “The chill,” he said, pointing out the window.

“I need the fortification.”

There was a doubt in her eyes which she quickly masked. “You seem distressed,” she said noncommittally.

“Not really,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I suppose I’m basically a tragic man-in the midst of pleasure and the joys of good companionship, I remember how soon these things must end.” The drinks came and he sipped his while she tasted her own.

“The Germans have a word for it,” Lisolette said.

“They call it Weltschmerz-world weariness.”

He laughed. “That’s too grand a term for it.”

“Perhaps it’s something more on the order of what Sudermann once wrote about. Are you familiar with Sudermann?”

“I’m afraid I’m not,” he said, somewhat wary. This was a side of Lisolette that he hadn’t quite expected and wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, he was once a most popular writer. I was thinking of his Frau Sorge, which translates roughly as Dame Care. It’s about a boy cursed throughout his life with care o and sorrow. Sudermann was much like Thomas Hardy in his outlook-Frau Sorge is actually the Germanic counterpart of Jude the Obscure.”

She was beyond him, he thought. His ladies had been gentle and charming and generous but seldom intellectual.

He felt like somebody who was fond of white wine and had just been introduced to champagne. “Poor Jude,” he laughed.

“No, Lisolette, I’m afraid that even there I don’t stand up to such a grand comparison. I’m not a sorrowful man by nature-rather an optimistic one, in fact.”

“Very much like my father,” she said thoughtfully.

“You would have liked him. He was a master brewer in St. Louis, at the Schwartz Brau Brewery. He was a very fierce, and very loving, man.”

“He produced a lovely daughter.”

“No obvious flattery, Harlee.” She laughed, then was thoughtful again. “He was … formidable. He came over here from Frankfurt am Main-bud Deutsch and very proud of his cultural heritage, something he passed on to me.” The shadow of a more tragic memory passed over her face. “He was a very brave man, too; he almost died for it in the late thirties.”

“Oh?” Claiborne said gently. She obviously wanted to talk and he was perfectly willing to let her.

“Those were the days of the German-American Bund and they were very strong in South St. Louis. One could go to the Schwartzwald, the Black Forest, and see swastikas and oak leaves all over the walls and men marching around in brown shirts with armbands, belts, and SS caps -all of that dreadful type of costume.” She suddenly seemed depressed.

“That was a long time ago, Lisolette.”

“Perhaps not to me. Papa and I went to the park one time-I must have been twenty-one or -two at the time… . I was just getting into my graduate work-and there were a group of them marching and doing close-order drill. Papa called them a disgrace to the land of Schiller and Beethoven and he got into a dreadful fight with their officer …

then the rest of them started beating him. The police came but it was too late and Papa almost died.”

“Did they hurt you?” Claiborne asked after a moment of silence.

Lisolette smiled; for once it wasn’t a kind smile. “There was a metal stake thrust into the ground near a trash can. I pulled it up and attacked one of them who was trying to kick Papa with his foot. I put him in the hospital.” There was a somewhat sad triumphant look in her eyes. “Perhaps it was a terrible thing to do but I couldn’t let them do that to Papa, could I?”

He looked at her and suddenly remembered his long dead wife, Adele.

Both Lisolette and Adele were possessed of the same sort of fierce pride. It was exactly the sort of thing Adele might have done. A formidable woman, he thought. He toasted Lisolette silently and she joined him, her eyes misty with memories. “I’ve missed Papa over the years,” she said slowly. “Mama died when I was very young and he was .

. . quite important to me all of my life.”

“Did you ever marry, Lisolette?”

She shook her head, staring down at her drink. “Papa never recovered from the beating; I had to take care of him. It wasn’t that I was never asked, you know.” She looked up, the sparkle back in her,eyes.

“Would it surprise you if I said I’m not a virgin?” She smiled warmly.

“Do I shock you?”

“Hardly,” e said, laughing.

“Well, I’m not,” she said proudly. She pressed a hand to her mouth.

“A little alcohol and I say too much-you must excuse me, Harlee.

Nevertheless, it’s true and I feel pleased that I knew what love was.

But there was Papa, and, of course, the children … all the dear children I taught, all the fine young girls and boys. I suppose that became my life instead.”

Remarkable, he thought, there was so much within her that he found himself admiring. So much strength. She seemed giddy at times, but underneath there was that rawboned strength.

“Now tell me about your stocks-before they bring the food so that we can enjoy our dinner.”

She had taken him by surprise; he had almost forgotten why he had asked her to dinner. “Perhaps later on,” he stalled.

“I think now would be better,” she said. “There’s so much you’ll have to explain to me.”

He took out the envelope and spread the contents on the table.

She listened attentively, taking it all in, but for some reason his heart wasn’t in it. Her obvious trust in him made him feel uncomfortable; it took away the pleasure of the game, of the conquest.

“Now, Lisolette, you must remember that stocks of this sort-most over-the-counter stocks-are highly speculative.”

“But if you think the chances are good, Harlee she began.

“You really should give it a great deal of thought,” he said seriously. What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered. He was blowing the whole pitch.

“You know I trust your judgment,” she said simply. She fingered the certificates in front of her. “They’re very pretty, aren’t they?

Very impressive.” She glanced at him, her face open. “What should I buy Harlee? YouR have “The metal stocks,” he began. He could feel the sweat in his armpits and on his forehead.

“Yes?”

Suddenly he was very angry with her, with himself.

“You trust me completely, don’t you, Lisolette?”

Her face was suddenly quite serious. “Of course.”

“Why should you?” he asked slowly. “Why should you trust my judgment-or me either, for that matter?”

She looked flustered. “You’re angry. Did I say something wrong?”

“You’re trusting, Lisolette,” he said grimly. “Much too trusting.”

“Is there-any reason why I shouldn’t trust you?” She looked perplexed.

He leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of the martini.

His ex-wife, he thought, he.had forgotten how much he had loved her.

And Lisolette was her duplicate.

Adele had trusted him with the business, with her bank accounts and she had left him everything in her will. She had loved him, too.

“Lisolette,” he said slowly, “what if I told you that these stocks were absolutely worthless, that they’re not worth the parchment they’re printed on. I should know to tell me.”

I printed most of them myself.” He touched one of them.

“You’re right-they’re beautiful, but worthless. They’re fake.”

He looked up at her. “So am I, Lisolette. I don’t have a dollar to my name, I’m two months behind in the rent; I can’t even pay for our dinner tonight.”

Lisolette frowned. “When one is in desperate straits “You misunderstand,” he said impatiently. “This is my way of life. He hesitated. “You aren’t the first one; I’m sure there are a dozen warrants waiting for me around the country, although most of my ladies are too well bred to bring charges.”

“Your ladies,” she said, smiling.

“My ladies,” he said, suddenly unaccountably sad. “My poor ladies.”

“You’re a very sensitive man, Harlee.”

He looked at her sharply. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

“Of course I have. Every word.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

She made a gesture. “Why should I be? I knew all this long before tonight; it was very easy to check.”

He stared at her, shocked, and then suddenly angry.

“And you let me go ahead and make a fool of myself?”

She reached out and took one of his hands. “That’s not it at all.

You’re a lovely, gentle man, and I.wouldn’t hurt you for all the world.

I wouldn’t have missed the money and you have given me so much more.”

“You would have gone ahead with it, let me take your money?”

“If it had come to that-though perhaps not as much as you wanted.”

“Lisa,” he said, for the first time using the diminutive form of her name, “you’re really an astonishing woman.”

She smiled..”No, just a woman who has lived a long time and still has an eye for the gentlemen.” Suddenly she was overcome with delight at her judgment. “Would it surprise you if I knew you would tell me all about the stock certificates, the truth about them? I told Rosette that you were the most honest man I had ever met!”

He laughed quietly. “God, I wish I had known you earlier.” And then he realized that he had, and that he had married her. Adele. She was Adele all over again.

“Now,” Lisolette said, suddenly very matter-of-fact, “while you were trying to convince Miss Reynolds that she should allow us to eat here, I took the liberty of ordering chateaubriand and a bottle of ChAteau Lafite Rothschild, ‘64. You see, I do know what gentlemen like!”

“Why … ?”

She shrugged. “I knew what she must be saying to you -and I wanted you to enjoy the evening with me.”

How like Adele, he thought. How much like Adele.

And yet-how uniquely Lisolette Mueller.