Read Online Cottonwood by Scott Phillips - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Scott Phillips
Ads: Link
except for a brief period when he would serve as my photographic assistant. Having fetched my good suit of clothes from the farm that morning I reported to the hotel promptly at three o’clock in Gleason’s company, carrying between us the stereographic camera, a tripod designed for the other, larger camera, a dark tent, and enough chemical solutions to open a drugstore of our own.
In the suite upstairs I was dismayed to find Katie Bender present, apparently as their guest. Her silken afternoon dress, of a similar cut and quality to Maggie’s own, was stiff and new, a gift from our hosts. Hattie was there, too, having brought up a tray of drinks, and she scowled at me with unconcealed disgust; we had not spoken since our exchange on the street, and if I ignored her it was because I was demonstrating to Gleason the setup of the camera, composing and focusing on the canapé upon which Marc and Maggie would sit for their portrait, facing the main window. With the windows and door thrown open, the room was barely bright enough for portraiture, but Maggie refused to wait for the completion of their house or that of the new studio next to my unfinished saloon, insisting upon a stereographic commemoration of their months in the suite.
I worked carefully at focusing; indoors, with only the light from the open windows and doors as illumination, my depth of field would be perilously shallow, even with a lengthy exposure. In these situations one often ended up with one’s subjects as nebulous blurs before perfectly crisp backgrounds, and I had cut only two glass plates for the occasion. Katie and Maggie seated themselves upon the canapé , staring upside down at my focusing glass, and as I ratcheted the lensboard forward and backward it was Maggie’s face I watched, trying to forget Katie’s was there next to it.
“Have you heard Hattie’s good news, Bill?” Katie asked me with a smile of such pure ingenuousness it had to be false. I didn’t know whether or not Hattie had accepted Comden’s proposal, nor whether an announcement had been made, so I said no.
Katie looked over at her chambermate and winked. “She’s engaged to marry Francis Comden in the spring.”
“Francis from downstairs? Really?” Maggie seemed genuinely surprised. “He’s just a boy.”
“He’s twenty,” Hattie snapped with greater venom than she evidently intended; she immediately forced herself to smile. “We’re going to go to Topeka to live.”
I pulled my head from the black shadecloth and noted that Gleason had finished setting up the dark tent in a corner of the room. In a moment I was gratefully inside it, preparing the first of the glass plates. When it had been coated I slipped it into a tray of silver nitrate and Gleason began preparing a second.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Katie said. “Young Francis has decided to study the law.”
Marc curled his lower lip in distaste. “Well, I suppose there’s always call for lawyering. The money doesn’t add up to much, though, unless you get into politics.”
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” Hattie asked with exaggerated formality.
“No, Hattie dear. You may go. Congratulations on your engagement,” Maggie answered sweetly, without condescension and with a smile of such genuine benevolence that the hateful glare Hattie shot back at her shocked me. Maggie paid it no mind, or perhaps she didn’t notice. Marc was looking elsewhere, bored out of his wits, and Katie looked at me, her right eyebrow raised in a selfsatisfied manner that made me want to strike her.
Hattie stopped for a moment in the doorway and met my eyes, her features softening dolefully until she seemed no longer homely but very nearly beautiful, and though she appeared on the brink of saying something to me she simply closed the door and hurried down the stairs. I thought I heard a sob through the door but I wasn’t sure, and I came close to following her. There was nothing to be done, though, and in
In the suite upstairs I was dismayed to find Katie Bender present, apparently as their guest. Her silken afternoon dress, of a similar cut and quality to Maggie’s own, was stiff and new, a gift from our hosts. Hattie was there, too, having brought up a tray of drinks, and she scowled at me with unconcealed disgust; we had not spoken since our exchange on the street, and if I ignored her it was because I was demonstrating to Gleason the setup of the camera, composing and focusing on the canapé upon which Marc and Maggie would sit for their portrait, facing the main window. With the windows and door thrown open, the room was barely bright enough for portraiture, but Maggie refused to wait for the completion of their house or that of the new studio next to my unfinished saloon, insisting upon a stereographic commemoration of their months in the suite.
I worked carefully at focusing; indoors, with only the light from the open windows and doors as illumination, my depth of field would be perilously shallow, even with a lengthy exposure. In these situations one often ended up with one’s subjects as nebulous blurs before perfectly crisp backgrounds, and I had cut only two glass plates for the occasion. Katie and Maggie seated themselves upon the canapé , staring upside down at my focusing glass, and as I ratcheted the lensboard forward and backward it was Maggie’s face I watched, trying to forget Katie’s was there next to it.
“Have you heard Hattie’s good news, Bill?” Katie asked me with a smile of such pure ingenuousness it had to be false. I didn’t know whether or not Hattie had accepted Comden’s proposal, nor whether an announcement had been made, so I said no.
Katie looked over at her chambermate and winked. “She’s engaged to marry Francis Comden in the spring.”
“Francis from downstairs? Really?” Maggie seemed genuinely surprised. “He’s just a boy.”
“He’s twenty,” Hattie snapped with greater venom than she evidently intended; she immediately forced herself to smile. “We’re going to go to Topeka to live.”
I pulled my head from the black shadecloth and noted that Gleason had finished setting up the dark tent in a corner of the room. In a moment I was gratefully inside it, preparing the first of the glass plates. When it had been coated I slipped it into a tray of silver nitrate and Gleason began preparing a second.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Katie said. “Young Francis has decided to study the law.”
Marc curled his lower lip in distaste. “Well, I suppose there’s always call for lawyering. The money doesn’t add up to much, though, unless you get into politics.”
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” Hattie asked with exaggerated formality.
“No, Hattie dear. You may go. Congratulations on your engagement,” Maggie answered sweetly, without condescension and with a smile of such genuine benevolence that the hateful glare Hattie shot back at her shocked me. Maggie paid it no mind, or perhaps she didn’t notice. Marc was looking elsewhere, bored out of his wits, and Katie looked at me, her right eyebrow raised in a selfsatisfied manner that made me want to strike her.
Hattie stopped for a moment in the doorway and met my eyes, her features softening dolefully until she seemed no longer homely but very nearly beautiful, and though she appeared on the brink of saying something to me she simply closed the door and hurried down the stairs. I thought I heard a sob through the door but I wasn’t sure, and I came close to following her. There was nothing to be done, though, and in
Similar Books
