Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [94]
"What's the matter with this place?"
"It's not the place, it's him. O.K., I'm working, see and he has to find something to do with himself, at night. So he finds it. He says it's pool, and he does come home with chalk all over him. I'll say that for him. But he's a liar. It's a frazzle-haired blonde that works in one of those antique furniture factories on Los Feliz. Nothing serious maybe, but he sees her, It's what I've been so jittery about, if you've got to know. And now, if I can just get him out of here, and in business again so he can hold his head up—well, maybe that'll be that. Go on, tell me some more."
So once again Mildred was in a flurry of alterations, purchases of inventory, and arguments about policy. She wanted a duplicate of the Glendale place, which would specialize in chicken, waffles, and pies, and operate a small bar as a sideline. Mrs. Gessler, however, had other ideas. "Do they come all the way to the ocean just to get chicken? Not if I know them. They want a shore dinner—fish, lobster, and crab—and that's what we're giving them. And that's where we make the dough. Don't forget: fish is cheap. But we've got to have a little variety, so we give them steak, right from our own built-in charcoal broiler."
When Mildred protested that she knew nothing about steaks, or fish, or lobster, or crab, and would be helpless to do the marketing, Mrs. Gessler replied she could learn. It wasn't until she sent for Mr. Otis, the federal meat inspector who had been romantic about her in her waitress days, that her alarm eased a little. He came to the Glendale restaurant one night, and confirmed her suspicions that there were about a hundred different ways to lose money on steaks. But when he talked with Mrs. Gessler he was impressed. He told Mildred she was "smart," and probably knew where she was coming out. It depended mainly, he said, on the chef, and to Mildred's surprise he recommended Archie, of Mr. Chris's establishment. Archie, he assured her, had been wasted for years in a second class place, but "he's still the best steak man in town, bar none. Any bum can cook fish and make money on it, so don't worry about that. But on steaks, you've got to have somebody that knows his stuff. You can't go wrong on Archie."
So Mildred stole Archie off Mr. Chris, and under his dour supervision installed the built-in charcoal broiler. Presently, after signs had been put up along the road, and announcements inserted in the Los Angeles papers, the place opened. It was never the snug little gold mine that Ida's place was, for Mrs. Gessler was careless of expenses, and tended to slight the kitchen in favor of the bar. But her talent at making a sort of club out of whatever she touched drew big business. The ingenuity with which she worked out the arrangements drew Mildred's reluctant admiration. The big living room of the house was converted into a maplepanelled bar, with dim lights. The rooms behind it were joined together in a cluster of small dining rooms, each with a pleasant air of intimacy about it. One of them opened on a veranda that ran around the house, and out here were tables for out-door drinkers, bathing suiters, and the overflow trade. But the most surprising thing to Mildred was the flower garden. She had never suspected Mrs. Gessler of any such weakness, but within a few weeks the whole brow of the bluff was planted with bushes, and here, it appeared, was where Mrs. Gessler spent her mornings, spading, pruning, and puttering with a Japanese gardener. The expense, what with the water and the gardener, was high, but Mrs. Gessler shrugged it off. "We're running a high-class dump, Baby, and we've got to have something. For some reason I don't understand, a guy with an old-fashioned on the table likes to listen to the bumble-bees." But when the flowers began to bloom, Mildred paid without