Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves(66)
With her attention turned back to the kettle’s simmering pinto beans, he swiped a scone. At once, she struck his knuckles with her wooden spoon.
“Ouch!” He gave her a repentant smile that he hoped made up for his spiteful words. He nodded at the bean broth, then at the four ranch hands, still watching Romy and himself with surreptitious and suspicious interest. “If you don’t already know, Sunshine, too many cooks spoil the broth.”
“I know that too many cocks spoil the brothel, if that’s what ye mean.”
Thank God, she wasn’t the kind of gal to pout or stew.
She flashed him one of her stock-in-trade impish grins. “Now be off with yuirselves, all of ye galutes.”
Soon, she would be off with her own self, and, freed at last of her meddling, he could get on with his life, right?
§ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN §
The glib Gideon and his ever-reasoning approach to everything overcame any lingering doubts Romy might entertain about the wisdom of leaving the S&S, and Duke, and convinced her to travel that next month to Nashville, wherever that was, to audition for the Grand Ole Opry in hopes they would sign her on.
Gideon and she sat on the parlor sofa – with Miriam hovering close on his other side, her tapered fingers resting lightly on his suit coat sleeve. The Opry’s invitation lay on the coffee table. Its top obviously had once served as a portion of an outhouse door, what with its half-moon aperture.
They were studying the points Gideon was outlining. He jabbed his fountain pen at the lengthy letter. “Licensing is important, Romy.”
“A license?”
“A license in the entertainment business is permission for someone else to use your music.”
“And this licensing, it means what?” For her, someone else’s permission could only mean a loss of her freedom in some way.
“If you have written a song – for instance this “Lost in Your Smile” – and Billie Holliday wants to sing it, she has to get a license from you to use it. If Jeanette MacDonald’s moving picture “Sweethearts” wants to then use your version of “Lost in Your Smile” in their touring, they will need a license from you – and from MGM. Radio gets a license for every song they play. So does every bar, club, and restaurant. You want to make sure all this is covered by your contract.”
She felt overwhelmed. “Gideon, I dunna suppose ye can come with me, can ye now?”
Miriam’s fingers tapped his sleeve. “Remember, dear – we’re to meet my parents in New York that weekend.” She looked to Romy, “But, perhaps, later, we both could come?”
A savvy and honest woman, Miriam was likeable enough, and Romy could understand her disinclination to let Gideon traipse off alone with a Gypsy girl, although, surely, he must have made known to Miriam by now his marital intentions towards her. The Jewess was the perfect wife for him, what he had been seeking from the start.
He was saved from formulating a reply, when Glen opened the front door and stuck in his head. “Hey, Romy, Johnson and his crew are here, and the boss wants to know when dinner will be served.”
“Tell him to hold his horses, Glen.” She sighed and added, “I’ll ring the dinner bell in fifteen minutes, give-or-take.”
At the doorway, Sally slipped past Glen, saying “Gideon, you’re on call for a game of horseshoes.”
Naturally, he wanted to be out glad-handing Johnson. He rose swiftly and reached down to squeeze Romy’s shoulder reassuringly. “You duped the Nazis and escaped Sachsenhausen. Twice. You can outmaneuver the American entertainment industry’s mouthpieces.”
Still, how in the name of all the calendar’s saints was she supposed to pay for the bus fare, which, according to Jock, was a good two days’ journey, much less pay for a place to board in the interim before the audition?
As he moved to leave, Miriam offered, “I’ll help you in the kitchen, Romy.”
“I’m better at branding than baking,” Sally said, grinning, “but you can put me to work, too, gal.”
“Ye can start carting the plates and bowls outside to the picnic table,” she said, heading back to the kitchen, “and, Miriam, could ye fill that dish pan with more ice cubes for the beer tub?”
While Miriam began removing ice trays from the refrigerator and snapping their cubes into the blue-and-white speckled pan, Sally gathered the dishes. After the kitchen door banged shut behind her, it swung open again just as quickly, and Charlotte and Clara poked their pretty auburn heads inside. “Can we help?”
Well, Romy thought, Sally may not be in the running for Duke’s bride-to-be, but Charlotte most certainly still was. “Aye, if ye’ll carry the beans and potato salad to the picnic table, Charlotte. And Clara, help yuir mum, ye can.”
Once they had departed, Miriam reached into her skirt pocket and held out a dangling string of pearls. “A going away present, if you will, Romy. For good luck.”
Earlier that morning, Arturo had also presented Romy with a gift – his guitar. “Eet belongs to you, not me. Keep eet close to your heart when you play upon eet.”
She felt genuinely surprised that people cared about her leaving. Leaving, traveling, wandering, it was all a part of the Gypsy business, the only thing she knew to do. But not yearned to do.