because they think the hot baths are good for them and that they make them feel better.”
They arrived at the Big Iron Bathhouse first, and after introducing herself to the receptionist, Abigail asked if she could make an appointment.
“For a bath? My dear, look around you. We have several people waiting now. No, we cannot accommodate you now.”
“No, I don’t want a bath. I’d like to make an appointment to tour the facility.”
“You mean you don’t want a bath? You just want to look around?”
“That’s right.” Abigail didn’t feel she needed to explain any more than that.
“Well, I’m not sure. You’d have to talk to the manager about that.”
“That’s what I’m wanting to do. Is he in?”
“No. He won’t be back until this afternoon.”
Abigail didn’t want to lose her temper with Marcus standing right beside her. “All right. May I make an appointment for tomorrow?”
The receptionist looked at her book. “He can probably see you this time tomorrow.”
“That will be fine. Please put me down for that.” She handed her a business card her father had made for her, calling her a representative of the Connors Bank of Eureka Springs . “Please tell him I am representing my father’s bank.”
The receptionist’s tone quickly changed. “I’ll be glad to, Miss Connors. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
The lobby had been somewhat dim, and Abigail opened her parasol against the brightness of the light outside.
“You handled that very well.”
“Thank you. She wasn’t very helpful, was she?”
Marcus chuckled. “Not until she found out your father is a banker.” He shook his head. “It always bothers me when people are treated differently depending on their circumstances or how they look. I guess that is why I think so much of your father. When I went in, he didn’t know that I was the grown son of his good friends. I didn’t want that to be a factor in whether or not he gave me a loan.”
“He is a very special man.” It suddenly struck Abigail that the deferential treatment she’d always received had been more because of her father and his position in town rather than anything she’d ever done. She wondered why she’d never really thought about it before. Deep down she knew the truth, but had she thought it was her right to be treated so well just because her father was so well thought of—or because of how wealthy he was? If so, how impertinent of her.
They were at the next bathhouse before she had time to reflect further, and Abigail was relieved. She didn’t much like the turn her thoughts had taken. The Old Hale Bathhouse was nicer than its name implied, probably because it had been renovated.
“There are regulations and inspections on a regular basis. If the government decides improvements need to be made, they are made. Otherwise, their licenses can be taken away,” Marcus explained.
The manager was available, and he showed her what he could while they waited for one of the rooms and a tub to be cleaned so that she could see that. “When bathers come in, their valuables are given to us, and we put them in our safe,” the manager explained. “Then they are provided with fresh sheets and towels. The towels are to dry off with after the bath, and the sheets are to wrap in for the rubdown. The bathers provide their own mitts and bathrobes. An attendant oversees the bath. The tubs are scrubbed clean after every bath, and the rooms cleaned and readied for the next bather.”
“And how long does the bathing take?” Abigail asked.
“Around twenty minutes, a little more or less, depending on the bather.”
They toured the facility and then saw the room that had just been cleaned. The marble room had a stall.
“The stall is at about 150 degrees, and the baths are at 98 degrees,” the manager explained. “Obviously, going from one to the other creates a kind of shock to the body, but it is what invigorates our clients—once they’ve perspired out the
They arrived at the Big Iron Bathhouse first, and after introducing herself to the receptionist, Abigail asked if she could make an appointment.
“For a bath? My dear, look around you. We have several people waiting now. No, we cannot accommodate you now.”
“No, I don’t want a bath. I’d like to make an appointment to tour the facility.”
“You mean you don’t want a bath? You just want to look around?”
“That’s right.” Abigail didn’t feel she needed to explain any more than that.
“Well, I’m not sure. You’d have to talk to the manager about that.”
“That’s what I’m wanting to do. Is he in?”
“No. He won’t be back until this afternoon.”
Abigail didn’t want to lose her temper with Marcus standing right beside her. “All right. May I make an appointment for tomorrow?”
The receptionist looked at her book. “He can probably see you this time tomorrow.”
“That will be fine. Please put me down for that.” She handed her a business card her father had made for her, calling her a representative of the Connors Bank of Eureka Springs . “Please tell him I am representing my father’s bank.”
The receptionist’s tone quickly changed. “I’ll be glad to, Miss Connors. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
The lobby had been somewhat dim, and Abigail opened her parasol against the brightness of the light outside.
“You handled that very well.”
“Thank you. She wasn’t very helpful, was she?”
Marcus chuckled. “Not until she found out your father is a banker.” He shook his head. “It always bothers me when people are treated differently depending on their circumstances or how they look. I guess that is why I think so much of your father. When I went in, he didn’t know that I was the grown son of his good friends. I didn’t want that to be a factor in whether or not he gave me a loan.”
“He is a very special man.” It suddenly struck Abigail that the deferential treatment she’d always received had been more because of her father and his position in town rather than anything she’d ever done. She wondered why she’d never really thought about it before. Deep down she knew the truth, but had she thought it was her right to be treated so well just because her father was so well thought of—or because of how wealthy he was? If so, how impertinent of her.
They were at the next bathhouse before she had time to reflect further, and Abigail was relieved. She didn’t much like the turn her thoughts had taken. The Old Hale Bathhouse was nicer than its name implied, probably because it had been renovated.
“There are regulations and inspections on a regular basis. If the government decides improvements need to be made, they are made. Otherwise, their licenses can be taken away,” Marcus explained.
The manager was available, and he showed her what he could while they waited for one of the rooms and a tub to be cleaned so that she could see that. “When bathers come in, their valuables are given to us, and we put them in our safe,” the manager explained. “Then they are provided with fresh sheets and towels. The towels are to dry off with after the bath, and the sheets are to wrap in for the rubdown. The bathers provide their own mitts and bathrobes. An attendant oversees the bath. The tubs are scrubbed clean after every bath, and the rooms cleaned and readied for the next bather.”
“And how long does the bathing take?” Abigail asked.
“Around twenty minutes, a little more or less, depending on the bather.”
They toured the facility and then saw the room that had just been cleaned. The marble room had a stall.
“The stall is at about 150 degrees, and the baths are at 98 degrees,” the manager explained. “Obviously, going from one to the other creates a kind of shock to the body, but it is what invigorates our clients—once they’ve perspired out the
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