The House that Jack Built
1. This is the house that Jack built.
2. This is the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
3. This is the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
4. This is the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
5. This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
6. This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That toss'd the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
7. This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
8. This is the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
9. This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
10. This is the cock that crow'd in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
11. This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
Chapter 1
This is the house that Jack built
The steward at the Carpenters and Joiners Union stood on a desk in the office, calling off names of men he could put to work. ‘Czacka? Janos Czacka? Last call for Janos Czacka.’ From his perch above the sea men, he saw a brown cap moving against the tide to reach the center of the room.
‘I’m Czacka. What have you got?’
‘Plastering job at the Brehm house, Erdman Avenue in Hamilton. Grab your tools. See Grumann for your ticket and car fare.’
Baltimore was still rebuilding four years after their Great Fire. The City found a shortage of skilled workmen, just as emigres had begun streaming in from Europe, hoping for their own chance at the streets paved with gold. They hadn’t found much gold, but they did find marble steps, cobbled streets, and a City hungry for their labor.
Janos Czacka joined the queue of men waiting for their work tickets and car fare. Skilled craftsmen were in enough demand that the contractors paid for their transportation the first day on the job. He finally reached the short bald German seated by the door.
‘Jack, you old so and so! How you keeping?’ Grumann was genuinely pleased to see him. They had met last year on a job where Grumann was foreman. Since then, Grumann had suffered a fall from a scaffold, and could no longer work on a crew, but he could handle duties in the union hall, and at least make enough to keep his wife from taking a job at the sewing factory on Howard Street.
Czacka’s blue eyes twinkled under his woolen work cap. He was one of the few men here who was clean-shaven, claiming he preferred not to have to clean plaster out of his mustache every night. The truth was he found the girls liked him better without. He almost had to yell to be heard over the crowd of men in the room. ‘Herman! Good to see you. What can you tell me about this Hamilton house?’
‘So that’s the one you drew, eh? Lots of ornamental work, so you’ll have a good long run. But be careful. This isn’t just the Brehm house. It’s the Brehm Mansion, you know, like the brewery.’
Jack whistled low. Brehm owned a huge section of the city, between Gardenville and Hamilton, stretching from Belair Road to Harford Road. He put up his monstrous brewery first, then, when he married his young wife, started construction on a monstrosity of a house.
Grumann handed Jack a slip of paper for the crew chief, a nickel for car fare, and told him where to pick up the number 13 line to Hamilton. The plasterer thanked his old friend, shouldered his leather tool bag, and headed off for the corner of Broadway and East Baltimore Street to catch the horse car that would take him to the street car. It was early yet, not quite six o’clock. If he was lucky, he could be on the job by seven and get in a full day’s work.
*****
Mary Kathleen O’Halloran screamed when she felt something against the back of her calf.
‘It’s just me, darlin’. Nothing to be concerned about.’
She turned to the sound of his voice. When she saw who it was, the brass cuspidor she was cleaning clattered to the floor. She felt a hand gathering her skirt higher. ‘Oh, please sir, don’t. I’m a good girl, I am.’
He stepped in closer to her. Her breath came warm and fast against his palm as he caressed the side of her face. He reveled in her anxiety.
‘A good girl.’ He smirked. ‘You’re a swamper in a whore house, Katie. You can’t afford to be a good girl.’
Mary Kathleen put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push her assailant awqay, but he was too strong. ‘Please sir. Don’t be doin’ this. I’ve got so much work to do before the other gentlemen start arriving. Just leave me to my work, sir, please.’
His own breathing came faster. Her fear excited him, more than her proximity ever could. His voice became hoarse as his ardor increased. ‘Oh, Katie me darlin’, I’ll please you. You don’t have to worry about that.’
He pushed her backwards across the garish red velvet settee , then tossed her gray maid’s skirt over her face. He held her down with one hand, leaning hard on her chest, and used his free hand to unfasten his trousers and shove them down below his hips. Mary Kathleen tried to scream, but she was unable to draw enough breath.
He kept the pressure on her chest when he shoved himself inside her. He found his entry briefly blocked, but continued his brutal assault until he breached her barrier.
Mary Kathleen was beyond screaming now. Instead, she sobbed, hard, tossing her head from side to side on the velvet cushion. Even when he took his hand from her chest, she was weeping too hard to muster an outcry.
Her assailant spent himself quickly. He pushed back and stood, then wiped himself on her skirt in one last show of disdain. ‘Looks like you were a good girl, Katie.’ He stressed the past tense. ‘But you weren’t that good. You’ll take quite a bit of training before I can put you upstairs at Blaze’s.’
She gasped and put her hands to her breast. ‘Oh no sir, pl...’ She remembered what happened when she had last said that word. ‘I beg of you sir. Don’t be putting to me to work upstairs.’ She looked at him briefly, recognizing the rekindled lust in his eyes. As distasteful as it was, she thought perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Her tone changed as she tried to mimic some of Blaze’s girls as they worked the evening crowds. She stepped in closer to him, and attempted to affect a seductive gaze. ‘I could be your special girl, sir, if only you promise not to make me work upstairs.’
He laughed, a loud harsh bray in the early morning quiet of the whore house. ‘And what makes you think I would want some little pig-shit Irish girl in my bed? I can have any girl in this house any time I want her. Then again, I just may pay you a visit every now and then upstairs, in between your other customers.’
Mary Kathleen stared at him, open mouthed. This man...This man of quality, who had just raped her, was really planning on putting her to work as a prostitute. He had said as much before, but this time, it sank in.
‘Mr...’ she stopped. He didn’t like his illustrious name sullied in these unhallowed halls. ‘Sir, I’m a good girl, I am. Don’t make me do this. Let m go home. My mother will never know. I promise not to tell my brothers. Just let me go home now.’
They both turned towards the hallway door. Someone was moving about, probably the madam padding her way to the kitchen for her first coffee of the day, before she began preparing for her day.
Mary Kathleen looked at his face, and saw a sudden flash of concern coss his expression before his sneer returned. That was it. Blaze must not have known what he was doing. Maybe this was her opportunity.
‘Miss Bla...’
His backhanded slap cut her off. She fell backwards against the arm of the settee, but righted herself quickly. She wouldn’t be caught in the same position again.
‘Don’t think Blaze will take your side, darlin’. She knows which side of her bread is buttered.’ He took a step closer to her.
She tried to retreat a step. The settee stopped her.
He caressed the side of her face again. She tried to jerk away. She saw a small opening to her left, and made a quick dodge, intent on reaching the door. He slammed the palms of his hands against the wall, trapping her between his outstretched arms.
‘You should know better than to try to get away from me.’ The saccharine tone was gone, replaced by pure demonic evil. ‘You’re mine, Mary Kathleen. So long as you are in this room, you belong to me, body and soul.’ He stepped in closer to her, and pinned her more tightly against the wall, using his hips for leverage. He removed his left hand from the wall.
Instead of caressing her face, this time, he punched her jaw, hard, snapping her head to one side. She fell limp against his arm.
He shoved her upright, was forced to lean her against the wall to hold her in place. Once more, he used his forearm and elbow to apply pressure to her sternum.
Again, she tried to scream. She opened her mouth but was unable to draw a breath. She looked up into his eyes and saw his hatred.
The pressure on her chest increased. She continued to look into his face. He pushed harder and harder, until she was unable to draw a breath at all. Her vision blurred and darkened.
The last thing she felt was his hand under her skirt.
*****
A transfer, a check and fifty minutes later, Jack was standing on the corner of Harford and Erdman, looking up the hill at a big, boxish Edwardian house with at least four hips and as many gables on the roof. Jack could have sworn he saw a gargoyle on the tiled roof, but he couldn’t be sure. He headed for the crowd of men congregating by the lumber pile. A man wearing a battered derby, chewing on an unlit cigar was busily scribbling on a pad and calling out jobs.
‘Plasterers. Where’s my plasterers?’
Jack stepped forward with five other men. Each handed over their chit from the union hall. The foreman looked at Jack’s paper, and set in on his pad. He began pointing and directing the other men, then finally turned to Jack.
‘You, Czacka’, he pronounced it ‘zacka’. ‘I need you to mix spackle and seal around the plumbing in the kitchen.’
‘I think you got the wrong man, boss’. Jack spoke softly, his English barely accented. His lips smiled, but his eyes were hard. ‘I was sent here to do the ornamental work. You want someone to patch, get one of the kids off the scrap pile.’
‘You think you’re too good for this crew, don’t you? I don’t want no big dumb Pollacks on my crew, anyway. You just get on out of here.’
The two of the five plasterers who were headed to the house stopped in their tracks. They had heard of Janos Czacka around the hall, and had seen his work. The older of the two turned on the foreman, and threw his trowel into the dirt, point first.
‘Guess you don’t want me here either, boss. I’m just another big dumb Pollack. And I guess you don’t want those six boys who came in to do the iron work, or the stone cutters.’ He turned and called in Polish to the rest of the crew. Fifteen men joined him. The spokesman reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. ‘I figure I got enough here to get us all back to the union hall. I don’t think they’ll be real happy about you turning skilled craftsmen off, just because you don’t like how he spells his name.’
The foreman began to sputter and stammer. Finally, in a fit of pique, he threw his well-chewed but still unlit cigar to the ground, ripped his pad in half and flung it to the wind, and stormed off towards the nearest bar.
A cheer went up from the men. ‘About time someone did something about that horse’s ass.’ A black man spoke softly from the back of the throng. He was a mud mixer and hod carrier for the brick layers. He had more than his fair share of run-ins with the foreman.
The group’s spokesman laughed and called out to the hod carrier. ‘I’ve been looking for an excuse to get up his nose, Willie. Jack here just gave it to me.’ He had to wait while the men finished cheering again. ‘Now then, boys. We’ve got a fine house that wants building. I think we all know what needs doing. How about we get to it?’
Jack walked into the house with his new friend. ‘Dzien dobry. Guess you already know I’m Janos Czacka. Everybody here calls me Jack.’
‘Janos, dobry.’ He returned the Polish greeting. ‘ I’m Casimir Piechoki. Cas to most people now.’
Jack smiled broadly. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Casimir.’
Piechoki laughed heartily and slapped him soundly on the shoulder. ‘Same here, Janos.’ He sobered, suddenly getting down to business. ‘ So, you like to do baseboards or crowns better?’
‘No difference. You?’
They finally decided Cas would do the crown moldings, working on stilts, while Jack did the fourteen inch high baseboards. They worked until one, when Cas called time for lunch.
After a quick meal shared from Cas’ lunch pail, the pair traded jobs, with Jack donning the stilts and working on the crown moldings. It was nearing the end of the day, and Jack was just about to turn the corner on the second wall.
‘Gott in Himmel. What is this?’
Jack was so startled, he lost his balance and fell backwards, his trowel and plaster pallette landing at the feet of the intruder a split second before Jack.
The man at the door was just as startled as Jack had been a moment ago. He offered Jack his hand, but Cas stepped between the two and started to unbuckle the stilts from Jack’s knees. Finally, when Jack was free, he was able to sit up and face the visitor.
The man standing in the open doorway was short, very round, with a prodigious walrus mustache and heavy sideburns. His expensive gray suit didn’t help hide the paunch behind his thick gold watch chain. His outward appearance exuded wealth and overindulgence.
Jack was furious. Anyone who had ever been in a house under construction knew not to surprise a man working overhead. He opened his mouth to rail at the man, when Cas stepped between them one more time.
‘Janos, you haven’t met out patron yet. This is Mr. Brehm. This is his house, and I guess this will be his bedroom we’re doing right now.’
‘Dziekuje.’ Jack thanked Cas under his breath. He had been about to make the mistake of his life. ‘Mr. Brehm, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. But please, next time you see a man up on stilts or on a ladder, don’t call out that way. It can be dangerous.’
Brehm wiped his face with his handkerchief then stuffed it back in his jacket pocket. ‘I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize... I just came in to see how the work was going and to make sure you boys got paid today. That useless foreman never came in to pick up the pay packets. It’s not fair that the workmen suffer for the incompetence of management.’
The two Poles exchanged glances. This man spoke like a union brother, rather than a home owner.
‘Don’t looked so surprised. I was a braumeister and a guild member long before I built this monstrosity.’ He laughed at their shock over his use of the word. ‘Ja. I know the house is hideous. My wife picked out the plans. All I do is pay the money. But since this is my bedroom, I do have a little say in what you put up.’
‘Is there something wrong with our work, Mr. Brehm?’ Jack was worried now. The last thing he needed was to loose his first important job.
‘Nein, nein. Nothing is wrong. This work is beautiful. Much better than anything I’ve seen so far.’
Jack fairly beamed. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I’m glad you’re using restraint here, rather than following the plans my wife gave that foreman.’
‘Plans? We never got plans.’ Now Cas was beginning to worry. The foreman not only tried to get rid of the best man on the crew, but tried to purposely sabotage the job by taking the written plans with him.
Brehm laughed. ‘Just as well. She wants cupids and angels and little animals in every room on the second floor. But this is my bedroom. You’re almost done the baseboards, and have done a lot of the molding. I’m not about to stop you.’
Jack looked up at the patterns he had been carving into the thick plaster. Cas had set the first thin layer. It had dried completely, and now was ready for the decorative work. Jack had used a combination of swirls and chevrons, interspersed with a few feathery touches at the corner. He had an idea.
‘Mr. Brehm, since this will be your bedroom, may I suggest that we design a shield to extend down from the molding onto the chimney face? When we’re done, the painters can come in, and with a little gold leaf, and some red and black paint, you can have your coat of arms there.’
Brehm laughed uproariously. ‘You mean the picture that’s on the beer trucks?’ Jack nodded. ‘That isn’t my coat of arms, son. That was a picture that hung outside a tavern in the town where I grew up. The Lion and Lamb. I apprenticed to the braumeister there when I was ten. The picture stayed with me all these years. But I like the idea. The beer paid for this house. It paid for your work. I’ll admit it, it paid for my wife. Why shouldn’t it have a place of honor.’
The men continued to discuss the plans for the home until well after normal quitting time. Brehm pulled out his watch. ‘I’m sorry, men. I’ve kept you from your work, and kept you late. And I still haven’t paid you.’ He pulled two envelopes from inside his jacket, then opened the first one. ‘No, this can’t be right. Two dollars?’
Jack didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t asked what the pay was on this job, but he had figured it would be closer to three dollars for the first few days, until the boss could see the quality of his work. Cas answered instead.
‘We usually get three or four a day for the first week. Once they see our work, we might get more. Or we might get turned off.’ He smiled, thinking this time it was the boss who was turned off.
Brehm reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a change purse. ‘I can see right now the work you men do. So I think it’s time we do things the right way.’ He pressed a five dollar gold piece into the hand of each man. ‘Now, it’s late. I fear I’ve kept you men from your supper. Come with me. My car is downstairs.’ His tone brooked no argument. The two men pocketed their pay, gathered their tools and followed their patron to the street.
The workmen followed Brehm down the steps leading to the street, then turned the corner onto Harford Road. When Jack saw the ‘car’, he let out a low whistle.
‘Is that a Lozier Pope Hartford?’ His voice had a note of awe.
‘Indeed it is. My wife won’t be seen in it. Says it’s an old man’s car. She had to have an Nash Touring Car. For me, I like this. It’s comfortable, it looks nice. And best of all, it’s fast.’
A tall, liveried black man stepped from the front seat and tipped his hat to his employer.
‘Boys, this is my driver, George Battle. George, this is Casimir Piechoki and Janos Czacka, two of the best plasterers I’ve ever seen.’
George smiled broadly and extended his hand. He was pleased when the men shook with him. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He turned back to Brehm. ‘Where to, boss?’
Brehm turned to the workmen. ‘Yes, men. Where to?’
Jack spoke first. ‘I have a room in Canton, above Schenning’s,’ naming a popular bar across from the street car barn.
‘And I’m up Eastern Avenue, at Rose Street.’
Brehm nodded. ‘There’s your answer George. Hausner’s Restaurant.’
Jack had not been in the city long enough to recognize the name, but Cas knew. ‘Hausner’s? Mr. Brehm, we don’t eat in places like that. We’re not dressed fit to go in there.’
‘Nonsense. Mrs. Hausner and I are old friends. I have a booth downstairs in the bar, and my own stein. They won’t tell me I can’t bring two friends there for a nice supper.’
So, it was settled. The German brewer bought supper for two Polish plasters at one of the finest restaurants in East Baltimore.
The restaurant was quiet on a Tuesday, with only a few businessmen upstairs in the dining room. The rail at the bar, though, hardly had room for another foot, and every table downstairs was filled. Steins of every description hung from pegs above the bar: some plain glass perhaps with a a pewter band, others tall, ornate Bavarian masterpieces. When the bartender saw Brehm, he reached up and lifted down a quart mug with the Brehm emblem carved into the stoneware.
‘Mr. Brehm, it’s good to see you again.’ The barman passed the filled stein to the braumeister.
Brehm grinned and nodded. He thumbed the lid back on the stein and chugged down half of the contents in one long pull, then wiped his mustache on his coat sleeve. ‘Danke, Max. Always just the right temperature here.’ He turned towards his guests. ‘Give my friends here a couple of beers. We’ll be in my booth. Oh, and George is outside with the car. Could you have Inge take him out some Hasenpfeffer and a short beer? I know he has to be hungry.’
Max smiled and nodded as he pulled beers for the two men, then headed to the kitchen.
Jack still wasn’t comfortable here. He spoke softly to his friend. ‘Casimir, won’t your wife wonder where you are? Don’t you need to be home for supper?’
Cas laughed and took a long drink of his own beer. ‘She knows I’m late some nights. She doesn’t wait supper for me. She’ll be fine.’
‘Mr. Brehm, if I’m not back at the room by nine, Mrs. Schenning locks the outside door and I can’t get upstairs.’ He was looking genuinely worried by now.
Cas laughed again. ‘So what? I’ve got an extra room. You stay at my house tonight. Once you get to working steady, you’ll have enough to rent something better than a room above a dump like Schenning’s anyway.’
‘What’s wrong with Schenning’s? It seemed okay to me. Besides, I can get lunch there and a beer for a dime.’
Cas followed in the direction Brehm had gone. He spoke over his shoulder. ‘Nothing wrong with that, if you like three day old boiled eggs, warm beer and cold, hard coddies.’ Jack tried to hide the shiver then crept down his spine. ‘Ah, I can see you have eaten there.’
Brehm’s ‘booth’ was in actuality a room, about six feet square. The walls on three sides held high backed benches, with a large linen-covered table in the center. Jack supposed it would have held twelve people comfortably. He and Cas sat on one side, while their employer sat opposite.
The waiter appeared with a pitcher and refilled the beer glasses. Jack knew he could never afford this place on his own, but he could see the appeal.
Brehm looked at the two men questioningly, while the waiter stood, pad in hand. ‘You boys like schnitzel? Maybe oysters? They’re in season now. I know, what about some bratwurst with sauerkraut?’
To Jack and Cas, sausage with sauerkraut sounded the safest. They didn’t know a lot of the German names of the foods, decided to choose something familiar. As soon as the waiter was gone, Brehm laughed and leaned across the table. ‘You men keep on working for me, you’ll learn all sorts of new foods. My cook is the best in the City, and cooks for the whole household. She learned from one of the finest chefs from Munich.. I expect to find you boys plenty of work, once the main house is finished.’
Cas looked at Jack in wonderment. This was not something he expected. He knew his good fortune was due, in part, to his new friend’s skill. He lifted his beer. ‘To new friends, and work well done.’
Jack joined in. ‘Nza zdrowie.’
‘Prost.’ Brehm lifted his heavy stein.
The men drank to their respective health. The waiter reappeared to refill mugs from his pitcher, as a second man entered carrying steaming plates piled high with sausages, sauerkraut and fat spaetzle noodles swimming in butter.
It was full dark when they left the restaurant. The night air had a bit of a chill to it, but after the closeness of the private room, Jack found it refreshing. He looked up at the street sign, and realized he was a good eighteen blocks away from his rooming house. Given the lateness of the hour, he knew the door would be locked, and he would trouble getting to his room. Cas’ offer sounded more appealing by the minute.
Cas pulled his light cotton jacket up closer to his neck. He looked at Jack. ‘Mr. Brehm, we’re only about six blocks from my house. We can walk from here. If you’ll just let us get our tools...’
Brehm was having none of it. ‘Nonsense. Give George your address, and he’ll take you right to the door. After all, he’ll be picking you up in the morning, so he’ll have to know where you live.’ There was a flash of white under Brehm’s mustache when he smiled beneath the gas street lamp.
‘If you say so, Mr. Brehm.’ Cas knew better than to argue with the boss.
‘I say so.’
Casimir directed George to the alley behind the three hundred block of Rose Street. Like most rowhouses in Highlandtown, the family used the entrance through the alley into the cellar, where a second kitchen had been built. The original kitchen was on the main floor. Cas’ wife would use it occasionally, when the kushas, the old women, would come for their cooking parties. The stove upstairs was larger than the one in the cellar, and there was a larger table. Probably a ton of pork and beef for kielbasa had been put through the grinder clamped to the side of that table over the years. The women would gossip and mix spices, and occasionally sip a bit of plum brandy.
Casimir looked at Brehm, and gathered his courage. He knew his wife was still awake by the light in the kitchen. ‘Mr. Brehm, would you and George like to come in? I can offer you a drop of slivovitz and I’m sure my wife has some crumb cake.’
Brehm declined. ‘No, Cas. Thank you though. I don’t think George could drive after a shot of Polish dynamite. And I’m afraid I have to be in the office early tomorrow. Perhaps another time?’
Cas agreed, although he was secretly relieved. He knew if he trooped not just Jack, but Brehm and the chauffeur into her kitchen, where she probably sat with a cup of coffee in her nightgown, she would have his head on a pike.
The two men picked up their tool bags, and headed through the gate. The inside door was still open, the wood and mesh screen door keeping out the night insects. Casimir called out in Polish to his wife, lest he take her completely by surprise. ‘Luisa, I have company with me.’
Jack smiled to himself as he heard grumbling come from the kitchen as Cas opened the door.
She was standing at the kitchen sink, washing out a coffee cup. ‘Luisa, this is Janos Czacka. Best plasterer I ever worked with. Poor guy’s been living over Schenning’s in Canton. I told him he could stay here tonight.’
Jack could have sworn he heard her say ‘powazne’ under her breath, but that couldn’t be right. He had never heard a woman swear before.
‘You’ll have to be up early to catch the street car then, and I don’t have enough in the house to make both of you breakfast and pack your lunches.’ It was obvious she wasn’t happy.
Casimir smiled to Jack and held up the five dollar gold piece. He slipped his arm around his wife’s waist, and with his free hand, held up his prize. ‘You think you can buy some extra food tomorrow with this?’
She squealed, threw her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.
Cas chuckled. ‘I don’t think Jack here will mind buying our lunch tomorrow if you’ll fix us something nice for breakfast. And we don’t have to catch any street car tomorrow either. The boss is sending his Lozier with his driver to pick us up. If you had looked out the door when we got here, you could have seen it.’
Jack interrupted his friend, and asked where he should sleep. He had a feeling he was very close to witnessing a delicate situation between husband and wife, and had no desire to embarrass Luisa in her own home.
Cas laughed and bounded for the stairs. Jack left his tool bag on the floor by the door, and followed. He was too tired to muster the two steps at a time Casimir did. But Jack didn’t have the promise of a pleasant night’s endeavor ahead of him.
The first floor was more formal than the cellar: the steps opened into a dining room, with a kitchen and mud room behind it. Jack followed Cas around through the formal parlor and up the front stairs. Jack noticed the stained glass above the parlor window. He supposed there was another piece in the transom above the door on the other side of the vestibule, probably with the house number worked into the leads.
The second floor was a wide landing, with three doors opening onto it. The door at the front of the house, Casimir identified as his and his wife’s room. The middle room, he said was Luisa’s sewing room, and the back room would be for Jack. Jack looked into the room when Cas turned up the gas jet. It was a pleasant enough place, utilitarian, with a white painted iron bed covered with a feather bed and a quilt.
Jack thanked Cas. After making sure Jack knew the privy was in the back yard by the fence, and showing him where the chamber pot was under the bed, Cas left him, closing the door on his way out. Jack smiled when he heard Luisa’s footsteps in the hallway a moment later, and Cas’ whoop as he closed their bedroom door.
Jack awoke Wednesday morning to the smell of frying ham and eggs and freshly baked cake. He smiled to himself. Luisa must be very happy to have gotten up so early.
He washed in the cold water from the pitcher in his room, and dressed. A quick knock on Cas’ door and he was able to borrow his new friend’s razor. By the time coffee was ready, both men were seated at the kitchen table.
‘Mrs. Piechoki, this is wonderful. You don’t know how much I appreciate a good breakfast.’ Jack was already chewing before Cas got his plate. He knew better, but this was too good to let the food go cold.
She smiled as she set her husband’s plate in front of him. Jack couldn’t help but notice the charged glance between the two as her hand brushed Cas’ face. ‘I said last night I didn’t have enough to pack your lunch today. But I managed to bake a crumb cake this morning, and there are a few boiled eggs your boys can take.’
‘That would be wonderful, Mrs. Piechoki. I’m sure whatever you fix will be delicious.’
Cas was tucking into his own food. Jack saw his friend’s plate held half again as much as his own. Oh well. It was apparent the man had worked hard all night. He needed a good feed come morning. ‘Jack, Luisa and I were talking. We have the room. Why don’t you take the spare room upstairs. I figure you’re paying what, a dollar a week at Schennings? Luisa says for three, she’ll feed you two meals a day and pack your lunch pail.’
Jack started to choke and had to take a swallow of coffee. He managed to croak out, ‘Three dollars?’
‘Oh my, is that too much, Mr. Czacka?’ Luisa began to twist the dish cloth she held.
‘Three dollars is less than what I’m paying to listen to five other men snore, and for no meals, other than the garbage I might get if I buy a beer down in the tavern. Mrs. Piechoki, I will accept your offer, on the condition that you let me pay you four dollars a week.’
It was clear from her expression that Luisa didn’t know what to say. Cas stepped in. ‘You’re paying more than that for Schenning’s? That’s disgusting. No Janos, Luisa said three dollars. How about if we start at three, and if Luisa sees she needs more, she’ll ask. But she told me she can’t afford to buy beer for you. You’ll need to buy your own.’
Jack laughed. He realized he had never laughed so much as he did since he met this man. ‘For three dollars a week, Mrs. Piechoki, I’ll buy beer for the three of us. And more besides.’
The men had finished their breakfast and were enjoying a quick smoke on the back steps when George pulled up in the Brehm Lozier. Casimir reached inside the door to grab their tool bags and told Luisa to ‘come look’.
Not only did Luisa look, she walked out into the alley and walked around the car. George got out of the driver’s seat and made a show of tipping his hat to the lady, then opened the passenger door and invited her to have a seat. She hesitated, shaking her head.
‘Mrs. Piechoki, Mr. Brehm said I should do whatever Casimir and Janos want this morning before I take them to work. Right now, I think they want me to take you for a drive around the neighborhood.’
Luisa looked at her husband, who fairly beamed with pride that his employer thought so much of them. ‘Go ahead. We’ll sit here and wait.’
She took another quick look at the auto, then dashed back into the kitchen to retrieve her hat and coat.
Luisa took her seat on the leather squabs and perched as perfectly straight as she could, trying to imitate the fine ladies she had seen cruising the Avenue, as the neighborhood called the stretch of Eastern Avenue where the shops were situated.
George pulled out of the alley slowly, knowing all the neighbors would be at their back doors to see who was leaving in the fine car, and trying to make sure the car wasn’t a hearse. Ten minutes later, he pulled back up behind the house, but without Luisa. He answered Casimir’s question before he could ask. ‘She had me drop her off at St. Catherine’s for confession. She said she didn’t mind walking back. But you should have seen the heads turn when I drove up in front of the church steps.’
Jack could tell George was having fun showing off ‘his’ car. His pride was obvious, the way his livery was without a spot or wrinkle, and the way he kept the brass on the car shined so brightly a man could use it for a shaving mirror.
‘George, you have no idea how much it meant to Luisa that you did that.’ Casimir was as excited as his wife to get another ride in the fine automobile, but he wasn’t about to let on.
The chauffeur grinned knowingly. ‘Oh, don’t worry. Mr. Brehm lets me take my mother and her sisters to church in the motor on Wednesday nights. They’re just the same as Miss Luisa, not wanting to act like they feel important, but you can tell, they do. And let me tell you, all those ladies deserve: Miss Luisa, my mama, my aunties. Every one of them works harder than any man ever worked, and get nothing to show for it, except maybe some ungrateful children. Only woman I ever did see who doesn’t work is that Miss Angelina... No, forget I said that.’
Jack and Cas looked at each other. They knew this was not something a loyal employee would normally say about his employer’s wife, so there must have been something dreadfully wrong. Neither man knew George or the Brehms well enough to ask. They knew they’d find out, sooner or later.
Once at the job site, Jack and Cas headed right to the master bedroom to pick up work where they had left off. They followed the same schedule as before, with Cas laying the foundation for the crown moldings, while Jack pointed up the baseboards, then after lunch, Jack took over with the fancy work on the stilts.
Jack was sitting on a high stool, sharing a piece of Luisa’s cake, when he noticed a shadow in the hallway. He gestured to his partner, who nodded. Neither man acknowledged the person’s presence, but went on with their conversation, making sure to speak in their native tongue. They had nothing to hide, but some things between friends didn’t need to be shared with strangers.
The shadow moved away. Jack could have sworn he got a whiff of a very sweet perfume, but couldn’t be sure. He let it go for now.
At the end of the day, the two men were packing their tools when the shadow reappeared. This time, it came fully into the doorway. The perfume smell preceded the shadow: a heavy mixture of patchouli, rose and something else that Jack couldn’t put his finger on, but knew right away he didn’t want to.
‘You boys are doing beautiful work. I can’t wait until you start on me.’
Angelina Moretti Brehms stood in the doorway, ensconced in a cloud of gauze, crinolines and gemstones. Her fingers were encrusted with diamonds, emeralds and rubies, while a wide collar of diamonds encircled her throat.
Jack wasn’t a connoisseur of women’s fashions, but he did not think this was an appropriate ‘at home’ costume for any woman, regardless of how much money her husband had. He also didn’t think women of quality made double entendres to the hired help.
Casimir did his best to ignore her, and turned his back to the door. It was obvious he had seen her before and was not impressed. He bent down to place his trowel in his tool bag. As he leaned near Jack, he whispered ‘drogo’, expensive.
Jack tried very hard not to laugh at his partner’s insult. He wiped his hands on his trousers, but never ventured close enough to offer her his hand. ‘Mrs. Brehm, I believe? We should be done here Saturday. We’ll be ready to start on your room Monday. If you have some ideas you’d like us to look at, please give them to your husband or to George, so we can see about doing the room to your liking.’ There. That should have put the situation on the right footing. He couldn’t come right out and say it, but he implied that he would have to deal with the men, rather than her directly.
Mrs. Brehm unfortunately, responded to subtlety no better than she exhibited the trait. She glided into the room in her fine kid slippers, allowing her gown to trail in the plaster dust on the drop cloth. It was obvious she had no care for the work others would have to do to repair her messes. She walked up to Jack, and looked up into his blue eyes with longing, blinking rapidly to make her own brown eyes appear extra moist. ‘Oh, I have plenty of ideas, Mr. Plaster Man. Plenty of ideas. But I don’t think I want my husband to see them just yet. I’d prefer to give them to you personally. You say you’ll be done here Saturday? I’ll be here by the time you’re ready to leave, so I can give you my drawings.’
She turned to leave, trailing her manicured fingers across Jack’s chest as she went.
Cas pushed the bedroom door closed behind her and turned to his friend in time to see his shiver in disgust. ‘Piekny,’ beautiful, he said.
Jack shivered again. ‘Piekny, tak. Duzy zly.’
This time Cas had to laugh. ‘I agree my friend, she is evil. She is also our patron’s wife, so we have to put up with her.’
‘Let’s get here extra early tomorrow and Saturday, so we can be done before lunch. Maybe we’ll miss her. Or maybe she’ll forget about us.’ Jack shouldered his tool bag and headed for the door.
Cas almost doubled over laughing. ‘Imagine, a big, strapping Polock like you afraid of a little rich girl.’
‘She may be little, but she’s no girl, my friend. She’s been around the block a time or two. I only hope she doesn’t hurt Mr. Brehm when she decides to make another trip.’
This time, it was Cas who shivered