Chapter One
July 1911
“Let me help you, Miss.”
Elsie, out of breath from struggling with her two large sales cases, looked into sparkling green eyes reflecting the azure sea beyond. “Thank you,” she eagerly replied. After observing the winding staircase that descended belowdecks, she’d been contemplating shoving her cases down the stairs. “Do you work at the Hotel Metropole?”
“No, do you?” responded the man as he easily navigated the stairs, placed the cases on the floor, then turned to take Elsie’s hand and guide her down the last few steps. The man seemed a true gentleman.
Elsie looked about the dim space, lit by only a few electric bulbs. It took a moment for her vision to adjust after being in the brilliant, summer sunshine above. An array of working-class passengers destined for Catalina occupied the small area. Elsie took an aisle seat near the stairs. “No. But I am going to set up my wares to sell at the hotel today.”
“Good luck, then,” bid the gentleman, who tipped his hat, then walked aft, took an empty seat and opened a document he pulled from his coat pocket. Elsie couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. His broad shoulders and narrow waist made an elegant hanger for an impeccably cut, brown, pinstriped suit. Light brown hair peeked from beneath his Panama hat. Relegated to belowdecks with other island employees, Elsie wondered what sort of job the gentleman had.
“He’s keen, huh?” asked a girl seated across from Elsie, who only smiled at the comment.
It soon became apparent, the girls in nearby seats traveled together. They all took an interest in the gentleman, another newcomer. As the girls attempted conversation, Elsie felt too nervous to do more than give her name. She soon understood the passenger next to her was a maid at the Hotel Metropole. Another was a washerwoman. The woman across the aisle kept books for a grocery store. The talkative girl was a manicure who cared for the hands and fingernails of wealthy ladies at various venues in Avalon. All were on their way back to work after spending time on the mainland.
“You look like a lady,” the manicure commented. “You some sort of drummer?”
“Yes, I’m a sales representative for Steele Faris Walker Company.”
“I thought as much. It figures The 5th Street Store’d send somebody like you to represent their interests. There’s been a lot of drummers this season. Folks get tired of looking at so many nice things.”
As the conversation turned toward the mundane, Elsie had a new concern. There were no windows below deck. It seemed very close as Elsie’s stomach churned. She tried to catch the fresh air coming down the stairwell, to no avail. Grasping her waist, she turned in her seat, wondering how she could continue as the ship rocked its way through the waves.
She looked up as someone took her arm and urged her to stand. Finding those same hypnotic green eyes squinting in amusement, she readily complied when the gentleman suggested, “Perhaps you’d enjoy a tour of the deck. I’m certain the fresh air would suit you.”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to mingle with full-fare passengers.”
“If you don’t tell anyone, I won’t.”
Elsie quickly climbed the stairs and felt instant relief as she gulped in fresh sea air. The gentleman kept a firm grip on her arm as he directed her toward the railing.
“Not much of a sailor, I take it.”
Elsie grinned. “I’ve never been on a boat in my life.”
“What a trooper you are, to take a job when transportation could prove daunting.”
“To be honest, it never occurred to me.”
The gentleman laughed. “It’s probably best you don’t call this a boat. It’s an offensive term to a true sailor. The Hermosa is a wood-hulled, compound steamer. Best to use the term ‘ship’ when you refer to her. You have a bit more color in your cheeks. Feeling better?”
Elsie nodded. “Thank you for bringing me up. I probably should return to my seat.”
“That isn’t a great idea. Did you know it will be almost three hours before we reach Avalon?”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware it took so long.”
“Passengers enjoy music and dancing, even fine food on their journey. Cabin class travelers indulge in private staterooms where they can relax during their voyage. What if we find a quiet spot near the bow where you can sit and enjoy the fresh air?”
“I think I’ll get in trouble.”
“We might avoid that if we simply appear to belong.” The girl was impeccably attired. “Did I hear you say your name is Elsie?”
Elsie nodded, wondering what she was getting herself into. Her sales trip was meant to pave the way to a permanent position at Steele Faris Walker Company, commonly known as The 5th Street Store. She didn’t want to squander her opportunity on a queasy stomach. But the idea of returning belowdecks held no appeal. “If you think it’s possible.”
“Leave it to me.”
* * *
After settling Elsie in a deck chair, Blake Atherton went in search of a glass of water. By the time he returned, Elsie was fast asleep. No doubt the fresh air and her brief bout of seasickness served to tire her. He couldn’t know Elsie’s recent sleepless nights also contributed to her fatigue.
Blake wouldn’t complain. He was drawn to Elsie from the moment he saw her on the gangplank and took a seat belowdecks to have a better look. She did not disappoint. Her fresh-faced loveliness proved captivating right up to the moment her complexion turned a worrisome shade of green.
Elsie’s tan traveling suit with narrow black stripes was the height of fashion. Her straight-gored skirt featured a buttoned, apron-in-panel effect. A black bow accentuated the high collar of her shirtwaist. Her chocolate brown hair was artfully arranged under a black, broad-brimmed hat covered in pink roses and leaves. Captoe button shoes and a small black handbag completed her ensemble. She obviously belonged on deck. He knew no one would question their appearance amongst other passengers. But it was her topaz blue eyes that so fascinated him. From the moment Elsie looked his way, Blake was lost in those eyes.
Perching the glass of water on the arm of his deck chair, Blake settled in to enjoy the view, both of the Pacific on this beautiful summer day and of his newfound companion.
* * *
Standing at the rail as the Hermosa sailed beside Catalina turned out to be a mistake. The captain spotted Blake from the bridge. He gave one last look at Elsie, soundly asleep on her deck chair, before accepting the captain’s invitation to join him for a tour. By the time they finished, the ship was firmly docked at the Green Pier, right across the beach from the Hotel Metropole.
“I might suggest a few tourist diversions while you’re here,” noted the captain as Blake attempted to catch sight of Elsie’s chair. “I know you rarely take time from work but tomorrow is a holiday. There’s the aquarium. I’m certain our glass-bottom boat, the Cleopatra, would be of interest. You can take a stagecoach tour of the interior of the island. I’d like you to join me at the Pilgrim Club this evening.”
“The Pilgrim Club?”
“It’s a gentlemen’s only gambling club. I think you’ll enjoy it. We’re quite modern. We generate our own electricity. But Avalon is hardly over-populated. Anyone can direct you to the Pilgrim Club.”
Blake noted the impressive Victorian architecture of the Hotel Metropole waiting on-shore. “I’ll meet you there,” he replied as he shook the captain’s hand.
Scurrying to the deck chair where he left Elsie sleeping, Blake was disappointed to find her absent. The belowdecks seats were empty. Her sample cases were gone. As he stood at the rail, he couldn’t locate her in the crowd of departing passengers walking down the pier toward Avalon. His attention was diverted to nearby row boats where boys called for coins. Tossing some change into the sea, he watched the boys dive for their reward. Blake felt consoled by the captain’s comment. Avalon was not a large town. How difficult could it be to find a drummer named Elsie?
* * *
“Let me take one of those cases,” the manicure offered as Elsie struggled down the pier while avoiding huge sea lions waiting for a handout. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”
Elsie nervously replied, “Am I that obvious?”
“Oh, you look the part, perhaps more a customer than a saleslady. I’m sure you’ll catch on quick. I have some time before my first appointment so I’ll help you set up. I know the lay of the land.”
Elsie eyed the immense green Victorian building with yellow trim. The two young women entered the grand hotel then walked through a large reception area to the far corner.
“Best you pull tables from that room right there. Nobody will use them until the dance tomorrow night and it looks best when you spread out your wares.” In no time, the manicure unpacked Elsie’s cases while having a good look. “This waist is a dilly!”
“It’s handmade Irish lace,” noted Elsie, “the most luxurious item I brought. You have good taste.”
“I have a skirt it would go fine with.” The manicure held the garment to her shoulders and admired her reflection in a nearby mirror. Taking a look at the three-figured price tag, she gave a whistle. “Too rich for my blood.” She lovingly placed it in a choice position on the center table. “You never know what will be the busiest time. There’s a lot of folks come through reception on their way out in the morning. There can be a crowd after lunch or even after tea. This will likely be a busy day since the holiday’s tomorrow.”
As if on cue, a group of ladies on their way to lunch made an appearance and paused to peruse Elsie’s wares. The manicure quickly took charge, answered questions and eagerly offered shopping advice. Elsie stood impotently to the side.
“Elsie Carroll? Could it be you?”
Elsie turned to find an elegantly-clad young woman. “Natalie?”
“Oh, dearest. It’s so good to see you. I haven’t heard from you in ever so long! How are you? Mother and I are here on a holiday. Our room is divine! You must come up. You don’t want to see these things, do you?”
Elsie’s head was in a whirl. She glanced at the manicure, so capably handling The 5th Street Store’s merchandise, no one would guess she wasn’t the proprietress of the business venture. Giving superfluous answers to her friend and former schoolmate as she led the way to the top floor of the hotel, Elsie considered the contrast between her past life and her new one. She couldn’t have felt more awkward. The blond-haired, blue-eyed Natalie Grant was considered the highest of society at Miss Orton’s Classical School for Girls.
Miss Orton’s in Pasadena was the first girls’ preparatory boarding school in the Los Angeles area. Graduates were expected to go on to Stanford or Berkeley if not to an elite Eastern college. Father wished all his girls to have the best possible start in life. Elsie was the only one of Father’s daughters who would have that opportunity. His illness meant she was the only daughter to enroll. The loss of his business and subsequent death led to Elsie’s current dire circumstances.
She stood mutely by while Natalie pulled beautiful dresses from the wardrobe in her room, garments purchased on her recent tour of Europe. Natalie’s enthusiasm effectively obscured Elsie’s disquiet. The girls were roommates at Miss Orton’s and best of friends. Both were excellent students. Natalie’s frequent correspondence went unanswered over the past year. Elsie’s difficult situation took her time and made the girls’ social differences all too obvious.
“Oh, dearest Elsie, I’ve missed you so. Why have you not written? I’ve been worried sick about you! Leave it to your unrivaled snobbishness to set me on the brink of despair! Now that I have you cornered, I simply can’t let you go! How long have you been here? How long are you staying?”
It seemed obvious Elsie would have to acknowledge her current position and lack of station, but it was grand to pretend, if only for a while, her old life had been restored. Soon, conversation turned to “remember when” and all ideas of confession flew out the window.
Reminiscence was abandoned when the telephone rang. After answering, Natalie hurriedly returned to her bedroom to inform, “Goodness. Where has the time gone? That was Mother. I’m late for our visit to the aquarium.” Natalie stuck her head in the wardrobe. “Where are my white shoes? Oh, here they are.” When she turned to invite Elsie to join them, she was nowhere to be seen. “Where has that girl gone, now?” muttered Natalie to herself.
* * *
Elsie flew downstairs. She never intended to leave the manicure to her own devices for such a length of time. Her jaw dropped when there was no sign of the girl. It appeared many items from the tables were gone. More importantly, the Irish waist was conspicuously absent, making the loss of other goods pale in comparison. Elsie’s heart sank. Imagining she looked as morose as she felt, Elsie was not surprised when customers avoided her for the balance of the afternoon.
She had little doubt the manicure not only pocketed the store’s receipts but helped herself to the coveted shirtwaist. There seemed to be nothing she could do, having not so much as obtained the girl’s name. Miss Carroll would likely be fired for dereliction of duty. She imagined a jail sentence was a real possibility.
Only last week, Elsie attempted to sell some lace collars to The 5th Street Store. The Carrolls were frequent customers in times gone by. When the saleslady recognized her, she called the manager over. Elsie explained her plight. The manager seemed more than eager to give her an opportunity. He believed a young, cultured woman might make contemporary and popular purchases on behalf of the store. In short, he wished to appeal to modern shoppers and needed a fresh eye. Her foray in sales was meant to pave the way for a position as buyer for the store.
Elsie packed her wares while imagining what life in prison might be like. A bellboy took her attention as he strode purposefully across the reception area toward her.
“Are these your goods, ma’am?”
Nodding desolately, Elsie replied, “They are.”
“The lady what was here left this for you.” He handed Elsie an envelope. She looked inside to find a number of bills and coins. “And she asked me to give you this.” A second envelope contained a check signed by Mrs. Grant, Natalie’s mother, in the amount of $150—payment for the Irish waist. Elsie was so stunned, she couldn’t breathe.
“You all right?” inquired the bellboy as he turned to leave.
“I am. Thank you so much! The lady who worked here, she’s the one who gave you both envelopes?”
“That’s right. Real nice lady.” The boy tipped his hat and went on his way, leaving an astounded Elsie Carroll in his wake.
Elsie quickly packed the remainder of her wares and asked the desk clerk if she could store her cases there. Hurrying to the corner suite on the third floor, she hoped Natalie and her mother had returned from their visit to the aquarium. It was almost suppertime.
Mrs. Grant answered the door but could hardly get a word in as Elsie attempted a complete confession and held the envelopes in the air to punctuate her tale.
“So, it was you who collected money for me and bought the shirtwaist?”
“I don’t quite know how it happened. I was standing there and women asked me questions, perhaps because I was the only one wearing a hat. I answered as best I could then they started handing me money! I collected it in my pocket and stayed until the time came to meet Natalie, who was running late, as usual. I planned to purchase the beautifully-crafted Irish waist. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my checkbook.
“Before I forget, a handsome young man inquired after Elsie, whom he thought to be the saleslady. Of course, I had no idea the Elsie he wanted was you. I explained I needed to find my daughter and be on my way. He quite helpfully took me to the desk where he obtained the envelopes and asked if I could use the telephone. He explained the bellboy was trustworthy and I could leave the funds with him. I arranged to meet Natalie at the desk and she brought my checkbook.”
Elsie took a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you so much! I can never repay your kindness. I can’t believe you spent most of the afternoon as a saleslady.”
“I must admit, I felt empowered when that first woman handed me her money. It seemed as if my Yankee forefathers smiled down and encouraged me to take up commerce, if only for a time.
“I’ve never been involved in the suffrage movement, but I see why women are anxious to enter the workforce. I found a bit of my own independence today!”
Natalie interrupted, “Elsie, you must join us for supper. I want to hear all about what’s happened since graduation. I went on about myself today. In truth, I suspected something must be wrong or you would have written. You were so quiet this afternoon and I was so excited!”
“It never takes much for you to steam up, Natalie. I never met a girl who could prattle on the way you do!” Mrs. Grant proclaimed.
Elsie replied, “Thank you, ladies, but I’m quite done in. Today has been more than I bargained for, right from the start.”
“Breakfast then? Won’t you meet us in the lobby at 9?” begged Natalie.
“I will. A good night’s sleep should serve to put a better face on this! I’ll catch the boat after breakfast.”
“You have to leave so soon?”
“I have to be at work on Wednesday morning. It’s the only way I can get back in time.”
“But tomorrow is the Fourth of July. Surely you could stay and celebrate with us?”
“Don’t be a nag, Natalie,” Mrs. Grant commanded. “You girls can get in touch when you’re both back home. You needn’t be a burden on Elsie, now. Be happy with our breakfast.”
A relieved Elsie made her way to the front desk. At least she wouldn’t be sitting in prison anytime soon. The desk clerk eagerly returned her warm smile. Although she didn’t perform a single duty of her new job, she undoubtedly couldn’t do any worse than she had today. Mrs. Grant’s kindness restored Elsie’s faith in humanity. Life was looking up, indeed, or so it seemed.
“Can you tell me how to get to the Catalina Canvas City?” Elsie asked as she retrieved her sales cases from the front desk. Her boat fare entitled her to a free tent with water.
“Did you see all the trees to the left when you came off the ship?” the desk clerk asked.
“I did.”
“Them’s the tents. It’s a couple blocks. Do you need transportation?”
Intent on living as frugally as possible, Elsie replied, “I’m certain I can walk that far,” and headed for the door.
Although the cases were lighter, Elsie struggled toward the sidewalk. At each footfall, she felt a bit more discouraged. This day was a disaster from beginning to end. She never sold a single item and had not obtained one bit of practical work experience.
The typical sea breeze had evidently blown to other parts on the warm afternoon. Surprised, Elsie paused when she heard her name. She turned her head to see the gentleman from the boat approach.
“You’re the most difficult of drummers to find,” the gentleman declared. “I tried to locate you all day. I believed the Metropole your most likely location but only found a mature lady doing business there. After searching elsewhere, I returned to find that lady was only filling in and needed to leave. Let me take those cases for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Elsie forcefully responded, intent on accomplishing something on her own this calamitous day.
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m taking a room in the Catalina Canvas City.”
“A room?” The gentleman facetiously replied.
“A tent, then. You understand what I’m saying.”
“I can’t help but wonder if you’ve ever stayed in a tent. Have you?” The gentleman fell in step as Elsie labored down the sidewalk.
“That’s hardly your business.”
“I believe I went out of my way to be helpful this morning. Please explain what I did to anger you.”
“What makes you think I’m angry?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It could be your tone of voice. It might be that scowl on your face or the fact you won’t look at me. If Steele Faris Walker hired you to carry their sales cases all over the Pacific, they didn’t choose wisely.”
At this comment, Elsie dropped her cases on the sidewalk and took aim. “What are you saying? They certainly did not hire me to carry cases.”
“Well, it’s the only thing you seem to do and not very well, at that. You needed my assistance to stow them on the ship. I have a feeling that lady at the Metropole did your selling. You’ll never get those cases to your tent unaided by the look of things.” A fascinated Blake watched as Elsie spluttered while planting her fists on her hips.
Blake suddenly knew beyond doubt he was completely in love and had been since that morning when he gazed into Elsie’s topaz blue eyes. Grabbing the cases, Blake headed toward the tent city. “You best keep up. You’ll have to show your ticket to get your free tent.”
Blake strode purposefully down the sidewalk, knowing Elsie would find it difficult to match his pace. He glanced furtively to the side to make sure Elsie could see as he turned a corner into the tent city. The manager’s tent was conveniently located first in line. Blake sat the cases near the tent flap as Elsie approached. He couldn’t tell whether her cheeks were red from anger or the unusually hot afternoon. “Have at it,” he commented as he raised the tent flap to let her pass then entered behind her and stood near the opening.
“Good afternoon,” began the tent master. “What can I do for you?”
Elsie fished her ticket from her handbag. “I’m here for the free tent with water.”
“Whew. You should have come when the ship docked. We’re full up because of the holiday tomorrow.”
“No, Hiram,” came a woman’s voice from the back of the tent. “There’s one left. The last one down the row. That family never come back for it. You can let it go since it’s after five.”
“This must be your lucky day,” the agreeable Hiram noted. “Number 107, straight down on the right.”
“Is there some sort of key?” inquired Elsie.
Hiram chuckled. “No, ma’am. Sign the register here. That your husband?”
“No. He’s a friend helping with my sample cases.”
“This is a proper establishment. You sign the register, you’re the only one to be found in the tent, understand?”
Elsie’s red cheeks took on a darker hue. “I can’t imagine what you’re inferring, sir.”
“Yes, I think you can,” Hiram declared. “No diddling around.”
Biting his lip to keep from laughter, Blake thought it expedient to rescue his newfound love. “Come along Elsie.” He grabbed her arm. “I’ll carry your cases down the street and be on my way.”
Elsie appeared either lost in thought or angry beyond words as the pair started down the tree-lined dirt road. The rows of tents seemed unending. Smells of suppers cooking wafted through the still evening air.
Intent on conversation, Blake proclaimed, “So, I’m your friend now?”
“What?”
“You told old Hiram back there I was your friend. Don’t you think we should introduce ourselves? I know your name is Elsie. You don’t even know mine.”
“It seems to be another of my failings today. I don’t know anybody’s name.”
Blake sat the cases down and held out his hand. “Blake Atherton, at your service.”
Elsie took the hand. “Elsie Carroll. But I think it only proper you refer to me as Miss Carroll, Mr. Atherton.”
“That would be proper, but I’ve thought of you all day as Elsie, drummer for The 5th Street Store. How will I reconcile my impression with Miss Carroll, the proper Edwardian lady? You are actually a proper Edwardian lady, are you not? Despite Hiram’s scandalous assertions?” Pleased as a new glow lit Elsie’s cheeks, Blake retrieved the cases and continued down the road at a more congenial pace.
“I doubt I am a proper lady any longer,” Elsie candidly admitted, lost in reflection. “I’m just Elsie the drummer and not a very good one, at that. I was so recently a snobbish child, valedictorian at Miss Orton’s Classical School for Girls and headed for a brilliant academic career.
“Today was my first day of work. I missed the trolley to Long Beach and had to catch a later one, almost missing the boat. Admittedly, hauling my wares is beyond me. I allowed the manicure I met on the boat to help me set up. When she took over so completely, I trusted her to watch my merchandise when an old classmate drew me away. Embarrassed by my new profession, I let Natalie believe I was merely a shopper. After coming to my senses and returning to the reception area, it appeared the manicure absconded with my profits and the expensive waist she so coveted. Not even knowing her name, I was surely bound for prison.”
“The woman I found at your tables didn’t appear to be a manicure,” noted Blake.
“She turned out to be my friend’s mother who paused to look at merchandise. When no one was there to take money, Mrs. Grant filled in, unaware it was me she rescued. She also purchased the expensive waist.”
“What a lovely lady.”
“She certainly is, especially in light of the fact Mrs. Grant is a member of the social elite. But I’m afraid she’s the rare exception.”
A look of profound horror lit Elsie’s face as they approached tent 107. She seemed aghast when Blake dropped the cases and held wide the tent flap.
“This is my life now,” Elsie dramatically admitted. “I’ve been the pampered, spoiled, conceited child of a businessman and this is my fate. It’s what I deserve. I have nothing but disdain for the wealthy and their lives of privilege and splendor while others wallow in the dust.”
“So, you’re giving up your friendship with your school chum? She doesn’t understand your current circumstances and is unsupportive?”
“Oh, it’s not that. We’re having breakfast at the hotel before I leave tomorrow. But I can’t rely on the beneficence of others. It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet and make my way in life. My mother and sisters are counting on me. My life of affluence is over. I must embrace the common man.”
Elsie’s proclamations in no way made her eager to enter the tent.
Blake pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “I don’t think this is proper lodging for a lady on her own, no matter how diminished her circumstances or how common her background. Since alternative accommodations might be difficult to find in light of the holiday tomorrow, what if I trade my quarters for yours?”
“You would do that for me?”
Knowing Elsie’s edicts on the wealthy might prove problematic, Blake fought a rare urge to panic as he improvised plans to woo his lady-love. “I would hardly be considered a gentleman as I slept soundly in my bed tonight while you are relegated to the wilderness of a tent city.”
Elsie peered through the tent flap. “It does have water.” She silently noted a real bed and rudimentary cooking facilities.
“So it does. The tent seems sturdy and well-made. Didn’t your employer provide accommodations?”
“I received a stipend to cover my fare, meals and room. I’m trying to pocket as much as possible. No. I am determined to see this through.” And Elsie entered the tent.
“Stop! Don’t move!”
Elsie froze in place, a puzzled look on her face. “What—”
Blake stole through the tent flap and took a place in front of Elsie, his back to her. “Back slowly outside,” he whispered.
“Why would I?” Elsie realized fully Mr. Atherton stood in her tent, exactly where he was not supposed to be. The way things were going, she would soon be sleeping on the street.
“Rattlesnake,” came the whispered response.
Gasping, Elsie put her hands on Mr. Atherton’s shoulders and backed through the tent flap. Once they were outside, she let go a stupendous scream and ran for the middle of the road. A crowd quickly gathered.
Blake approached a trembling Elsie and put his arm around her shoulders.
In no time, a man carrying a feed sack entered the tent. Apparently having retrieved the snake, he shouted, “No need for worry, folks. He took a nap in the shade! I’ll take him high in the hills and let him go.”
“Are you all right?” Blake asked.
“You saved my life!”
“I’m not certain about that.”
“Was it a dangerous snake?”
“A Santa Catalina Island rattlesnake. They’re hard to see and they don’t have a rattle. They’re as lethal as their noisy cousins.” Knowing he held a sudden advantage, Blake continued, “Let’s get you settled in, then.” He urged Miss Carroll toward the tent. She resisted.
“You wouldn’t be willing to trade accommodations now, surely?” she asked.
“My offer still stands, on one condition.”
“What?” Elsie asked suspiciously.
“I must insist you join me for supper after we take your sales cases to my room—your room. Bargain?”
“We have a bargain.” A relieved Elsie shook on their pact.