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"I must introduce myself," he said, stepping back, bowing. "I'm Frederick Heinmarch. I'm the proprietor of the Heinmarch Opera House. I'm sure you've heard of it."
"No, sir," she gulped. "I've never heard of it."
His brows shot upward, making his eyes appear bulged. "You haven't heard of it? Pray tell, girl, where have you been keeping yourself?"
Eugenia's shoulders drooped. "I only arrived in town yesterday, sir," she said, feeling her face reddening, hoping he would never know where she had spent her first night—hoping no one would ever know, or guess.
"I hope to see you again, young lady," he said, fumbling with the fly on his pants, beginning to make his way past her on into the bathroom.
Stunned by his abruptness, she stepped out into the hallway, and watched the door shut in her face.
Trembling, she made her way to her room and locked the door behind her. She didn't quite know what to think of this man. She had expected for him to make advances to her at any moment, but he hadn't. Maybe, being the owner of an opera house, he had more class, was more respectful of a woman's feelings. This made her like him just a little, even though he was so fat and burly, and unpleasant to look at. She stretched out across the bed, remembering how well dressed he was, wondering which room he was staying in. He appeared to have a lot of money. He could afford to live anywhere, so she couldn't understand why he would choose a hotel instead of a home.
Rising once again, Eugenia went to the window and looked down onto the street, watching the night's activity. It was much more quiet than Myers Anveue, where she had heard men fighting all night, even gunfire. Present on this street were the men riding by on horseback, an occasional black buggy stopping in front of the hotel, and the streetcars following their regular route. She wanted to go climb aboard one of these streetcars but knew that would have to come later, as so many of her dreams would have to do.
She pulled her dress over her head and stood in her petticoat in front of the mirror, touching the firmness of her breasts and the thickness of her waist. She groaned inwardly. The waistline. If it wasn't for that she could be just as lovely. She pulled the petticoat over her head and put her night chemise on. She settled herself beneath a sheet on the soft bed, dropping into a restless sleep filled with worrying about being able to keep up with her daily chores. Hannah expected an awful lot out of her, and she was so tired…
* * *
Chapter Six
The days had turned into weeks. August had faded away and Eugenia still knew nothing but cleaning and changing beds. She tucked the edge of a sheet beneath the corner of a bed, stopping to push some hair out of her eyes. She wiped her hands on her apron, then went to the window, staring outward at a world that was only one of bleakness for her. Tears veiled her eyes, then she wiped them clear when she heard movement behind her.
"Well, if it isn't my beautiful lady," the voice grumbled behind her.
Eugenia swung around and found Frederick Heinmarch filling the space of the doorway. And he was attired in the same manner as before; in all black except for the dainty ruffles at the front of his shirt. He swung his cane up into the air. "I was hoping I'd find you here. Eugenia, isn't it?" he continued.
"Yes. Eugenia Marie Scott," she mumbled, her fingers loosening the ties on her apron, pulling it off to hold behind her.
"Hannah's been getting the work out of you, huh?" he said, walking toward Eugenia, looking her up and down, frowning.
"Yes, sir. I've been workin' hard. Sunup to sunset," Eugenia answered, laughing to herself, thinking his jaws resembled a feeding chipmunk's, so full and blown out.
"Lost your heavy waistline, I see," he said, touching her, pinching at her skin beneath the now loosely fitted dress.
"I'm proud to say I have," Eugenia said, keenly aware of the looseness of this dress. It was one thing that she could attribute to her hard days and weeks of labor. A diet hadn't had to be a part of her daily life as she had expected. The hard labor and single helpings had taken care of this particular problem. She was too tired most evenings to even touch food. She had so wanted to go shopping to purchase a new dress, but Hannah had continued to keep her too busy. Eugenia had even begun to feel taken advantage of. She still did not see any other girls participating in the same type of work. Eugenia was expected to do it all by herself.
"I'd like to invite you to come to my home, Eugenia," Frederick said, clearing his voice.
"Your… home… ?" she gasped.
"Yes. I most certainly don't live here." He laughed. "I had only met with a musician friend of mine here the last time you and I met."
"But why do you want me to come to your home?"
Frederick cleared his throat once again. Shifting his eyes away from Eugenia, he said, "Hannah said that you're alone. And I live alone also now. In a huge house. Maybe you will even want to move into one of the rooms. You would be much more comfortable there."
r /> Eugenia covered her mouth with a hand. "Live in your house?" she gasped. "But I couldn't do that."
"You could work out the cost of the room if that would make you more comfortable."
Eugenia's fingers traveled over the simplicity of her attire. "I just can't, sir," she mumbled. "Somehow it wouldn't be right."
Frederick laughed noisily. "Let me be the judge of that," he said, going to her, touching her affectionately on her arm. He frowned somewhat as she pulled back from him. Then he added, "Whatever I choose to do is respected by everyone in this town. If I choose to bring a young lady under my roof, no one will dare say anything against it."
"Where do you live, Mr. Heinmarch?"
"Please call me Frederick, Eugenia," he answered. "And my house? It stands at the end of this street. A white house, called The Towers. Maybe you noticed it."
