Then she jumped up, holding her towel with one hand and taking my hand with the other. “Come on,” she said, “let me change and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
As we turned to leave, I looked around the space we were in. It was odd. A perfect circle of sweet-smelling bushes at the back of a garden that was closed in on itself. There were day lilies and yellow roses planted at intervals around the inside. They were blooming, but a few other plants were not. They were all well tended. “What is this place?” I asked.
Carolina looked around with wonder and satisfaction. “I don’t know,” she said. “It was here when I moved in. I’m putting different plants all around the inside, so that something will bloom in every season. It’s my private place. I call it the ‘Honeycircle.’ ”
I groaned at the pun and let her lead me not in the direction of the main house but to the carriage house. She told me that was where she and Nicholas and Star had made their living quarters. It made it much easier to keep her “public” and “private” lives separate.
The carriage house was two-storied. The bottom level looked to have basically the same functions it had always had — a storage space for equipment and tools, and stables for draft horses. The upper level had been completely refurbished. Windows that opened outward had been installed all around and a long balcony was attached on two sides of the structure, with one overlooking the “Honeycircle.” There were wide stairs leading up to the balcony, but before we could climb them we had to negotiate a path between all Star’s toys and then remove the largest of them, a tricycle, from in front of the bottom step. Carolina said, “Her daddy spoils her rotten.”
She started up the stairs and I said, “I suppose you’ve bought her nothing.”
“Not a thing,” she said.
We walked inside and it was beautiful, simple, and very comfortable, with the smell of honeysuckle wafting through the windows. It was a real home. Carolina went to change and told me to look around, especially Star’s room.
At first, I simply stood and stared out of the windows, at the life she’d made all on her own, with only the support of Solomon to make it a reality. Remarkable. Then I turned to look around. There were fresh-cut flowers in vases, framed photographs on the mantel, Persian rugs, a few Tiffany lamps, and the constant, sweet smell of honeysuckle everywhere.
I found Star’s room easily. The trail of toys was a quick giveaway. It was a normal child’s room in every way but one. The walls were all painted a deep blue, and on the blue there were hundreds of painted stars. But not the cartoonish stars and moons that usually grace a child’s walls. These were detailed, accurate renderings of all the major stars and constellations in the Milky Way, with their names underneath in bold reds and golds. It was almost a work of art. It was certainly a work of science and wonder.
Carolina had silently slipped in behind me. “Nicholas did this while I was pregnant. He said he wanted his son or daughter to have a real sense of place and not just know the address of their house.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “Can she place the stars on the wall with the ones in the sky?”
“Not yet, but she knows there’s a connection.”
I turned and looked at her. Her hair was tied in a loose bun and she wore a simple skirt and blouse. No jewelry or makeup. She resembled a schoolteacher and mother much more than a wealthy madam. “How do you make this work with that?” I asked and nodded toward the big house through the windows.
“It’s simple really, Z. I don’t know any other way. Nicholas approves and when Star’s old enough, I’ll answer any question she’s got. She’s loved, well taken care of, and later, she’ll be able to go to good schools. I can’t hide it from her. I’ll tell her it’s a part of life, in my case a business, but certainly not all there is to life. What she does with that information will be up to her.”
“You’ve done well, Carolina. I’m happy for you.”
“Come here,” she said. “I want you to see something.”
We walked to the mantel and she lifted up a small, framed photograph and held it for me to see. It was a picture of herself and a young man with a mustache sitting at a cafe table and smiling for the camera. They were holding hands under the table.
“This is Nicholas,” she said.
“That would be Nick Flowers to the rest of us, correct?”
Her mouth dropped open and she could only say, “How on earth. ”
“I read the paper on the way over. You know me, sports page first.”
She paused and looked out of the window for a moment, shook her head, then turned back to me. “This was almost five years ago,” she said. “Look at my eyes and tell me what they say.”
I looked again. “You are in love. That much is plain.”
“Yes, and when I first saw you in the ‘Honeycircle,’ I could see it in your eyes. You have met someone, haven’t you? Someone. like yourself.”
I thought about everything I could say, everything I wanted to say, but that would just have made everything else less clear. I still didn’t understand it myself. “Yes,” I answered. “Yes, I have.”
She looked at me strangely, curious for more detail, but knew instinctively to leave it where it was. She drew in a deep breath, placed the photograph back on the mantel, and said, “Where to?”
Without hesitation, I said, “Take me to Solomon.”
“Right now?”
“Sure. Why not?”
She looked out of the window, confused at first, then laughed to herself and said, “You’re right, Z. I’ve never been there, but sure, why not?”
I didn’t get the inside joke. “You’ve never been where?”
“ ‘Chestnut Valley.’ It’s downtown along Chestnut and Market Streets near Twentieth. It’s our ‘red-light district.’ ”
“And that’s where Solomon is?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes, but not necessarily for what you may be thinking. He goes for the gambling and the music. He knew the original owner of the Rosebud Cafe, ‘Honest John’ Turpin, and next door, over a drugstore I’m told, is a gaming room. He’s got a permanent seat at ‘the wheel,’ as he calls it. He hardly ever wins, but he never fails to play. I’ve heard that the music coming from next door is terrific. Honest John’s son, Tom, runs it now. Evidently, he’s a gigantic Negro man, who is supposed to be very nice and play a very wicked piano.”
“Why have you never been there?”
“I’ve heard that there’s a certain amount of jealousy toward me from a few madams in the area. However, it’s never been a real problem, because Solomon spends all his money there and I stay away.”
Now it was my turn to laugh to myself. Some things, beside the Meq, never change. “How is the old man?” I asked.
“He’s fine, but he drives me crazy. Of course, Star loves him and Nicholas thinks he’s some legend out of the Wild West. I just wish he would slow down a little. Anyway, let’s go, and go now, before I think better of it.”
I followed her out of the door and down the stairs. She swung open the wide door at the far end of the lower level, and instead of horses inside, there was a bright yellow automobile. I didn’t quite know what to say and laughed out loud.
Carolina looked it over with pride and turned to me. “Stanley Steamer,” she said. “It’s the latest thing, Z. But first, I have to check on Star and I want you to come with me. I want you to see something.”
She led me to the back of the big house and a separate, private entrance. She said it was Li’s living quarters and the only place Star would take a nap. I told her I had met Li’s cousin, also named Li, in China.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Well, I hope he is a bit more sociable than our Li.”
“He does what he can.”
Carolina gave me a peculiar look and gently tapped on the door. She paused for only a moment, then opened the door. “He never says come in or go away. He never says anything to anybody, except I’ve heard him talking to Star when he wasn’t aware I was listening.”
Inside, it was clean, simple, and spartan in decoration. Li sat in the corner as still as a stone. He was gazing straight ahead at the opposite corner. He looked like a prizefighter between rounds with perfect posture. Star lay on the single iron-frame bed against the wall. She was curled up on her side, sound asleep and sucking her thumb.
