Empire Girls (8 page)

CHAPTER 7

Rose

I AWOKE TO
music and laughter. I got up, pulled my nightdress up to my neck and peeked into Maude and Viv’s side to see Ivy sitting on one of their beds holding slices of cucumber over her eyes.

“I don’t see how this will work.” She giggled.

“You can’t go over to Cat’s place with big circles under your eyes. She likes pretty things.”

“She saw me last night!” said Ivy.

I walked over to them.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” said Viv. “You’d think you were the life of the party, the way you snored away.”

“I don’t snore,” I said.

They all laughed.

“We need to get dressed and go find work, Ivy.”

“I am dressed,” she said and stood up. She was wearing a scandalous dress. Light blue with thin straps, a dropped waist. She didn’t have on any sort of corset, which was usual for Ivy, but what I found most distressing was how her whole spirit seemed to be pulling against the fabric. As if her body, free from its constraints, was beginning to be as bold as her mind. One party, one night, one cigarette. Had I lost my sister?

Well,
I thought,
I’ll just find her again.

Because, to be honest, she looked lovely, like a wildflower. But, instead of saying so, I rolled my eyes and returned to our half of the penthouse.

I grabbed the dress it took me half the night to make, tried to hide myself as best I could behind one of the lower beams.

Ivy came over to me, pouting. She has the most beautiful mouth, and she’s used it wisely since she was a little girl. Her pouts, even the fake ones, could get almost anything out of our father.

“I think this dress is lovely, and you know how I feel about fashion,” she said.

I walked out from behind the beam and went to pin my hair up in front of the dressing table mirror. “I do, and I also know you don’t care about my opinion. I’m worried about how people will look at you when they see that dress. They’ll think you’re a harlot. Where did you get it?”

“Viv gave it to me. I think it was Daisy’s.” Ivy was playing with her beads and not looking at me. I wanted to stomp my feet and get her attention. I wanted her to notice what I’d made.

“Ah, the mysterious Daisy,” I said.... And she looked up.

“You made that?” She walked over to me and fingered the hem at the arms. I’d made the sleeves three-quarter inch, and hadn’t used any under satin because I’d run out.

“Well, thank heaven she was a seamstress, or I’d have to go on the streets looking like a beggar. I spilled ink on my dress last night and had to make this rag out of the curtains I found.

“You look beautiful,” she said. “Like a butterfly...”

“Thank you,” was all I could muster. “It will have to do until we can buy something. The color is atrocious.”

“You are so silly. Have you learned nothing of the newer fashions? This dress looks absolutely new, Rose! All the girls are wearing their dresses shorter now. You’re in style. How about that?”

I wasn’t convinced. She went to her small trunk and pulled out a pair of black heels. Not boots, little strappy heels.

“At least our feet are the same size. Wear these,” she said.

“Where did you get them?” I asked.

“Father bought them for me in Albany before...well, before. Put them on,” she said.

After, she and those ninnies we lived with tried to put some rouge on my cheeks and lips but I wouldn’t let them. Which, I have to admit, led us to a small romp of lighthearted fun...we even laughed a bit. They chased after me with a pot of rouge. Then the music stopped and Maude put on another record.

I always loved the way the scratching sound of the phonograph sounded in our living room.

“Oh, listen to this. I just love this ragtime. Let’s dance, girls!”

Ivy took my hand without thinking, and then the four of us were dancing on the wide wooden planks of the attic, giving whoever lived beneath us quite a headache, I’m sure.

I couldn’t help but remember us dancing and laughing together another time—it felt like a million years ago.

We were ten and eleven years old, respectively. We’d had dinner and were in our drawing room, as usual. That night, though, when father put the record on the new phonograph, Ivy got up and began to dance. Father and Mother looked at her with such love, I got up, as well. I took her hands and we started spinning around. Our hair spreading every which way. When we stopped, we fell to the ground in a dizzy, laughing heap.

“That was fun!” she’d said.

“Let’s do another spin,” I’d said.

We were out of breath, but danced on, the two of us, still so small. Our hair down, flying around us, mingling light strands with dark. Our fingers still laced together. Smiling.

“What happened to us?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” asked a grown-up Ivy. That’s when I realized I’d said it out loud.

“Nothing,” I said, not knowing how to explain the feelings welling up inside of me. “I’m just
deeply
ashamed that we look like loose women.”

“Oh, let’s just go. We’re going to be late,” she said.

“Late for what?” I asked.

“Late for our job interview!”

“You’ve found us work, Ivy?”

“Well, not really. Just an idea.”

“If it’s an idea, how can we be late? You can’t be late for an idea.”

“You can be so difficult,” she said, pulling me out of our room and down the narrow stairway so quickly that I had to yank her back so I wouldn’t fall down and twist my ankle again on unfamiliar shoes.

“Have a great day, ladies,” said Maude as we left.

“Be safe out there...” said Viv, and the two fell into waves of laughter. It was a quiet comfort, having someone noticing that we were leaving. I couldn’t remember when anyone—joking or not—had thought twice about where I was or what I was doing. That’s what happens when you are the one in charge. Everyone always assumes there is a reason why you do the things you do. It felt good to not be in charge.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as we rounded the landing on the fourth floor.

“To Cat LeGrand’s dress shop. She’s the bee’s knees, Rose. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her!” she said, as we made our way down two more flights.

“What kind of woman is she? If I read a story where there was someone named Cat LeGrand, I’d think she was a terrible villain.”

Reaching the foyer first, Ivy stopped, placed her hands on the newel post and spun on her heels, the fringe of her dress reaching out around her like tendrils of smoke.

“Stop it now. Don’t you dare, Rose. I mean it. Don’t judge her before you meet her. This is our opportunity. As soon as we get on our feet financially, we can start a proper search for Asher.”

“For who?” asked Nell, who rounded the doorway of the dining room at that same moment.

“For our brother, Asher,” repeated Ivy.

“Ah, the elusive brother. Don’t bother yourselves with that task, girls. People come to this city to get lost, not be found.”

I walked to the entry table where there was a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers in a crystal vase. Out of habit, or perhaps nervousness, I began rearranging them as I spoke. “Well, we don’t think he came to the city as a visitor. We think he was born here. That would make it an entirely different scenario, wouldn’t it?”

“Is there something wrong with that arrangement, Ms. Adams? Perhaps you think you could have done a better job?”

“Well, actually, Mrs. Neville...the fern would look better dispersed. Sometimes an arrangement looks more creative when you let the flowers mimic the way they look outside.”

“It’s
Miss,
and you know a lot about things like that, I assume,” said Nell, looking amused.

“My sister knows a lot about everything domestic. It’s rather boring. She took over our entire household after our mother died,” said Ivy.

“Is that so? In that case, seeing as I just let another useless woman go, I could use a new housekeeper. Santino, Claudia and I can’t run this entire building ourselves. How would you like to work here, Rose?”

I turned around to face Nell. Ivy was behind her mouthing the word NO.

“What is the pay?”

“I could offer a barter. You work in exchange for your board.”

“For both of us?”

“Don’t be silly. Just your portion. It’s a fair amount. But I’ll need your answer right away, because I’ll have to put an advertisement in the paper today if you decline.”

Ivy came around to my side. “I was just going to bring her to Cat’s to see if we could get jobs there. See this dress?” she said, pulling at my sleeve. “My sister made this dress last night. Out of a curtain. She’s very talented.”

Nell moved in for a closer look. “Yes, I see. The seams are tidy...the design is well thought out. I can arrange something with Cat. You two go meet with her, and I’ll call ahead. Impressive, Ms. Adams.”

“Thank you,” I said, unused to any sort of compliment.

Ivy took my wrist, and we moved toward the front doors.

“Oh, Rose? Santino left this for you. I almost forgot.” She fished a white envelope out of a deep dress pocket.

I took it. LADY ROSE ADAMS was printed across the white expanse in bold handwriting.

“Oh, looky looky! Rose, what have you been up to?” asked Ivy, grabbing the envelope and beginning to open it.

“It’s mine,” I said, taking it from her hands. I opened it as we wandered into the dining room.

“Aren’t you going to read your letter?”

“As we walk. That way I won’t have to look at the filth that surrounds us.”

“You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, Rose.”

We walked out into the stunning sunlight, and I was glad for a moment that I no longer had a high collar or laced-up boots. The day was already hot. Besides, the city was about to get much more interesting.

* * *

“It shouldn’t be very far. Viv even drew me a map,” said Ivy as I followed two steps behind her, opening my letter. She was rushing. Usually I’m the one ahead, with her lollygagging after me all transfixed with whatever beautiful, shiny new thing she saw.

We’d only just left Empire House, so I wondered about where we could be going. We passed the throngs of people in the streets. Everyone seemed to stare at Ivy. There was a store on the corner, Gilda’s Sweet Shop, and I made a mental note to purchase a sweet for Claudia when I made a little bit of money. It would be a good bribe to get her reading.

“So, what did you learn at the party last night?” I asked.

“Not much...”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“The party was riotous! Even you might have enjoyed yourself. These people are so much fun.”

“Did you ask about Asher?”

“In a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we’re right. They’re all giving us the business, Rose. I just don’t know why. We need to tread carefully with these people. At least that’s what my gut’s telling me.”

“Well, Papa always said we had to listen to instinct.”

Ivy’s smile faded, and I was sorry I’d mentioned him.

“I feel there are a lot of secrets hiding in that attic, though...” I said, trying to lift the mood. It worked.

“Oh, yeah. There’s secrets a plenty at Empire House. And I’m gonna figure it all out. Starting with that note of yours!” she said, grabbing for it again, forgetting I was much taller. “Come on! What does that letter say? I’m dying!”

“You’re tiresome,” I said, unfolding the paper and tucking the envelope into my wrist purse. It was a poem:

I met a phantom on the stairs

With flowing hair and lamp-lit eyes

I’m glad I bounded up

And captured that surprise

I do so hope she’s not upset

To cry with lamp-lit eyes.

New friend, gladly welcome now

A poem in disguise

A flower under glass

A set of lamp-lit eyes

Come see me, phantom

In my dreams

On lakes and boats and corsets gone

Through miles and miles of endless trees

Through sorrow tides and windswept seas

I’ll be where flowers cannot grow

Meet me there, at dusk’s last stand

Perhaps you’ll let me hold your hand.

—The Poet

“It’s a poem,” I said.

Ivy was quick. She waited for me to lower my guard, and the paper, and then took it out of my shaking hands, reading it as we stood on the street. I didn’t even try to get it back, such was my surprise at its intimacy, and my reaction to it. Like a hot poker in my abdomen. Who was this Santino fellow, thinking he could write such things to me? And what was the longing inside of me that the words evoked?

“Rose! It’s lovely. When did you meet him? Is this a real story? Was he on the stairs?”

“Be quiet,” I said. “It’s not your business, really. And he’s a brute to have written such things.”

“I’d die happy to have words like this written to me. He’s handsome, you know. Might not be so bad, having an Italian Lover.”

I grabbed the note from her and walked briskly past. “That’s a horrendous thing to say,” I said, but folded the paper up and put it in my purse, as well.

“And where do you think you’re going, sister? I’m the one who knows the way....”

She walked ahead of me again and continued to tease me.

He could corrupt you!

You could have an illicit affair!

Maybe you’ll go back to Italy and have a boatload of dark-haired babies.

I was relieved when she started to take a sharp left down a dark alleyway. But then paused before turning, like it was a gaping mouth ready to eat us. There were broken bricks at my feet that almost looked like teeth.

As if she read my mind, she said, “Come on, nothing is going to eat you.”

“I’m fine!” I yelled after her. “Just adjusting this hateful dress.”

I wouldn’t let her know I was afraid. I was the caretaker not the coward.

I made sure I had my straightest back and walked into the mouth of Manhattan.

The shop was in the alley itself. Almost like a magical door to another world.

A beautiful ornate sign that read Cat’s Dress Emporium with gold letters on a deep green background hung next to the large windows filled with the most colorful dresses I’d ever seen. And they looked expensive. Too fine for our budget.