Wendy Klopfenstein
“Do tell me these waters are healing.” The older woman implored Goldie with her eyes.
“I can’t say, ma’am. But many swear by them.” As helper to the bath assistants, Goldie Filbert handed Mrs. Balken a glass of thermal drinking water.
So many of the elite classes came to Fordyce Bathhouse in Hot Springs, Arkansas, every year. They’d been coming for decades, though the government had only declared it a National Park last year in 1921.
Mrs. Balken handed back the empty glass. “You are a lovely girl. With those crystal blue eyes and platinum hair, I’m surprised you haven’t left for the movies. Modeling, at least.”
Heat rose up her neck. More than one person had commented on her looks. She curtsied and smiled before turning to leave the woman to her bath. They weren’t supposed to make small talk with customers.
After another hour of preparing baths, fetching drinking water, and wrapping bathers in towels soaked in warm mineral water, Goldie’s manager told her to take a lunch break. Just thirty minutes, but it’d be a welcome relief.
She retrieved her lunch from her locker and hurried outside to sit on the concrete blocks framing a fountain. Sitting with her back to the hot springs tumbling up out of the ground, she watched the wealthy as they climbed the steps leading to the Fordyce Bathhouse.
Onlookers exclaimed over the architecture as she pinched off a corner of her ham sandwich.
As her gaze roamed the grounds, it fell on a man. A very handsome, well-dressed man on the balcony. His dark hair had been slicked into place. From where she sat, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but she imagined them to be green.
He smiled. A welcoming smile that drew her in. Her insides did a jig. This would never do.
She tore her eyes from him and landed them back on the fluffy bread of her sandwich.
He’d caught her staring in a most appreciative fashion. She tore off another bite and shoved it into her mouth to take her mind off him.
That hair. His broad shoulders in that fine suit.
She struggled in vain.
Snatching another glance up at the balcony, she found no one. A sigh escaped her. She’d no business catching the eye of a customer. That was forbidden.
She bit into her sandwich and the bread stuck in her mouth.
Why were there no eligible young men of her station? Just a common man, that’s all she wanted. A loyal, loving, common man.
Two black shoes appeared in her line of sight, the toes squaring off with her own.
She lifted her head.
Him. “Hello there.”
She contorted her mouth in an effort to dislodge the stuck bread. “Helwo.”
That grin covered his face once more, followed by a gentle laugh.
The offending piece of sandwich dislodged. “It’s not kind to laugh at strangers.”
“Very well.” He took a seat beside her. “I’m Frank Balken. What is your name?”
“Mrs. Balken’s son?” Her heart beat quicker. The older woman would emerge from the baths soon.
“No, but she’s my aunt.” His smile returned. “So we aren’t strangers.”
“But we are.”
“You know my aunt. How can we be?” He shrugged, his green eyes twinkling.
She’d known they’d be green, and it disoriented her. How would she keep up a wall of unfamiliarity with this man? She scooted a good six inches from where he sat next to her. It’d not be a good thing for her if management saw them.
He made a show of sniffing his arm and shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t smell bad. Actually, you smell nice. Like sandalwood.”
That chuckle again.
“But I’m not supposed to be seen talking to customers, or I’ll lose my job.” This might be funny to him, but her family couldn’t afford for her to lose her position. There were five other siblings in her home to feed.
He sobered. “My apologies. I’d no intention of causing you any trouble. But I’m not a customer, I can assure you. And I would defend your honor to anyone asking about it.”
“That is kind.” She rested her hand on the concrete block between them.
“If anyone should say anything against you, tell them I was asking about my aunt.” Those pools of emerald twinkled at her.
His hand landed close to hers on the stone. Close enough that their pinky fingers almost touched. A twinge of excitement ran through her.
“Frank?” There was no mistaking the voice of Mrs. Balken.
He hastened to his feet, signaling over his head.
“Oh, there you are.” She moved to the edge of the balcony. “Do stop waving your hand and come help me down these dreadful stairs.”
“Right away.” He saluted his aunt, and she flicked her wrist in dismissal.
Until her eyes landed on Goldie.
She pointed a bony finger. “Bring her with you.”
Goldie’s hands went cold, despite the warmth of the sun.
He held out his arm for her. In gallant fashion, he led her up the stairs to the place where his aunt stood. How could she get out of this? Her lunch break must be close to over by now.
Her hand shook as she slid it from Frank’s arm.
Mrs. Balken held out a coin. “A tip for you, my dear. You’re the nicest attendant I’ve had.” She turned to her nephew and patted his cheek. “Frank knows a fine young woman when he sees one. You will have dinner with us tonight, won’t you?”
“I . . . I . . . yes, ma’am.”
They made their way to the stairs, but not before Frank glanced back over his shoulder at her. “I’ll come for you at closing time.”
A bird twittered in a tree nearby, snapping her attention from their retreating figures.
She’d best get back to her shift. She turned to reenter the bathhouse with a spring in her step.
She enjoys spending time with her grandchildren or sitting on the porch with a good book. When she’s not working in the family business, you’ll find her writing her next novel.
She is the author of A Secret Heart novel as well as Her Gingerbread Refuge from the Snowbound at Christmas: A Wind River Mail-Order Brides Christmas Anthology, both from Sunrise Publishing.
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