The Lucky Ones (3 page)

3

“ANTHONY,” CORDELIA CALLED FROM THE ENTRY TO the second-floor poolroom, leaning against the door frame and crossing one driving moccasin over the other. Her hair was in a loose braid, and she was wearing a man’s blue work shirt—tied at the waist and with the arms rolled to the elbows—over a black slip dress. To a man she probably looked like a girl ready to spend an evening reading fashion magazines at home, but Astrid—still in the chic black dress she had worn to her grandmother’s earlier—gave her friend the up/down, and a little crescent moon appeared at the corner of her lips. With a spark of female imagination, she had seen what her friend was up to. “Anthony?”

“Yes?” he answered without turning to look. He was bent over about to take his shot and did not sound pleased about the disturbance. Charlie was out already, going about the business that had kept him and Jones tense all day, and he had his best men with him. His second-best men were on the perimeter of the property and stationed on the rooftop with rifles, so the poolroom at that hour was occupied by the youngest members of the Grey outfit, their faces pink between what scrubby facial hair they could grow. “One of the headlights on the Marmon needs fixing. Will you take me?”

Anthony took his shot and turned around, so that he missed the cue ball going wide of its mark and bouncing harmlessly against the green felt side barrier. “Now?”

“Yes, now.” Cordelia stared back at him, letting the steady, unblinking quality of her sweet brown eyes dispel the peculiarity of her request. “If I take it now it will be ready tomorrow,” she added firmly, as though that explained everything.

“But we’re in the middle of a game—”

He cut himself off when Cordelia stepped away from the door and raised her chin imperiously. “Yes, but if we go now we’ll be back before dark. Charlie says we’re not to leave the property after dark, and I want to make sure it’s ready for tomorrow.”

When Anthony realized that Cordelia was not to be argued with, he threw the cue down on the table and walked huffily toward the door ahead of his boss’s sister, who twirled her feet around before giving Astrid a wink and following him down the big main stairwell. They didn’t speak as they crossed the grass toward the garage. He was still angry about the interrupted game and didn’t notice that both headlights on the Marmon were working fine when she started up the motor and honked at him to follow her in one of the old Model T sedans that the Greys kept on hand for minor missions of this kind.

As they drove through the wooded lanes toward Old Oyster Town, she watched Anthony in the rearview mirror, noting the fierce expression he wore and the distraction in his eyes. The expression was unchanged as he pulled into the filling station, and so she didn’t bother to talk to him, only signaled that she was heading into the garage to find the mechanic. He waved at her indifferently and unfolded a newspaper to read while he waited.

Inside the office, an old man in grease-stained overalls sat behind a desk with his feet up. When he saw Cordelia come through the door, he hastily put away the bottle that had been next to his feet and finished what was in his paper cup. His body was thinning in the arms and legs, but the lost mass appeared to have repositioned itself around his gut.

“You needn’t worry about me,” she said with a smile.

“Silly of me, I suppose, but it’s hard to know who to trust these days,” he grumbled, as he reached for his bottle. “Now I get a look at you, you seem all right. Even so, we’re closed for the day, miss.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I was just wondering if I could leave my car on your property till tomorrow; would that be all right? The Marmon coupé out there.” The man’s eyes must have been blue when he was younger, but they were almost silver now when he narrowed them. “There’s ten dollars in it for you if you say yes.”

“That’s a lot of money to pay a night watchman,” he observed.

“Not if you include the fee for letting me slip out the back door.” She smiled brilliantly, and added: “Plus the cost of a shot of that whiskey. And of course, you’ll have to give a note to my friend Anthony when he comes after me.”

The man took another paper cup out of the drawer where he’d been keeping his whiskey and poured out a shot. Cordelia stepped toward him and put a ten-dollar bill on the table along with a folded piece of paper that had Anthony’s name written on it. Inside was a note explaining that she wasn’t in any trouble, and that if he didn’t want to be, he should keep his mouth shut, and that she’d be home before Charlie noticed. Meeting the old man’s eyes, she raised her cup to his. As she drained it, she was reminded that the Indians were said to call alcohol
firewater
.

“Thank you,” she said, and then scrawled a number on the newspaper lying on the desk. “That’s how you reach my brother Charlie, if you ever want to get some imported whiskey. He doesn’t usually do small accounts, but if you tell him you’re a friend of mine, he’ll make an exception. My name’s Cordelia.”

Realization came slowly into those silver eyes. “Thanks, miss,” he said.

She smiled again and went to the window, where she motioned to the driver of a black roadster that had been idling by the pump. Its lights went on, and it rolled slowly into motion. She watched Anthony glance up from his paper and glance away when the roadster turned so that its snout was pointed in the direction of the city.

“Will you keep this for me too?” Cordelia said, taking off the blue work shirt and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Sure thing, miss.”

Dusk was settling in as she stepped through the back door and made her way across the dusty lot. It was that hour when the light is strange and plays tricks on unaccustomed eyes and making out much of anything is difficult, particularly if what one ought to be watching for is dressed in black.

They didn’t speak until they were a half-mile down the road. Once they left the Old Oyster Town road for the main county highway, Max pulled over suddenly and reached for her. The kiss rocked them back and forth for several seconds until Cordelia softly pulled away, smiling. “I’m sorry, I must taste like second-rate whiskey. I didn’t think the old man trusted me, so I took a shot with him.”

“I don’t care,” he said, starting up the car again. She had forgotten how handsome he was, with his short dark hair just a dark shadow on his skull, and his pale blue eyes as serious and unwavering as ever. He held her gaze and swallowed. Then a rare and genuine smile began to spread beneath the stern outcropping of his nose. “I’m just happy to be with you.”

The feeling Max stirred in her now was the same one she’d experienced when she first saw him. She had just arrived in New York, and he had been flying his airplane above Pennsylvania Station, leaving puffy white lettering behind him in the sky. “That’s Max Darby,” an onlooker had told her impatiently when she’d inquired, and the name would always hold for her the wonder of that first breath of the city. She was not even really surprised—only a little awestruck—when, a few weeks later, after everything had gone terribly wrong, he had fallen out of the sky right in front of her, forcing them both to see her true mettle. That was the way she always felt when he turned his quiet, intent gaze on her—that he was capable of great things, and so she must be, too.

She reached for his hand and went on holding it as they talked idly of the days since they had last seen each other. Mostly what Cordelia could remember of them was how often she had replayed the scene out in front of The Vault in her thoughts, savoring the memory of how urgently he had kissed her on the sidewalk that night.

Not until they reached Harlem did his shoulders begin to relax a little. Still, as they crossed the street to the brown townhouse where his mother lived, he kept looking over his shoulder as though someone might be following them. But the tension dissolved when they came up to the second-floor landing and the door with the number two hand-painted on it flew open.

“Cordelia! So good to see you again, sugar,” Mrs. Darby exclaimed once she had hugged her son. Taking Cordelia’s arm, she said, “I’ve been after Max to bring you by again. Anyway, come on in. Food’s getting cold.”

Everything was neat in Mrs. Darby’s parlor—the old Victorian-style furniture was polished and simply arranged and the light was warm and the table was set for three. A fan whirred in the kitchen, and a phonograph was playing a piano concerto in the next room. There were children shouting on the street, and she could faintly hear the people moving around in the apartment upstairs. Here was a room where secrets did not need to be revealed, because—unlike in the rest of the world—none were kept, and for a moment, as they bent their heads while Max said grace, she forgot the things that she had come to New York in search of and was perfectly content.

Elsewhere in Manhattan the evening was only just beginning. In Harlem, wide-eyed voyeurs from the white parts of town, who had come in search of long-legged brown girls and exotic stage shows, were staring through car windows at the spectacle of the streets. They would likely have been surprised by the tranquility of the scene on the second-floor flat of an old brick townhouse, where two of the tabloids’ newest stars were privately enjoying one another’s company. For Cordelia, there was no place else to be. Whenever she glanced at Max’s pure, handsome face she felt a ripple of pride to think he was hers and he was capable of something few people could do. And for his part, he kept looking at her and then looking away, as though he couldn’t quite believe he had a girl like her in his mother’s parlor.

After dinner, Mrs. Darby had retired in order that the young people might have some time alone, and Max sat on one side of his mother’s yellow chintz sofa with Cordelia’s head rested on his lap. Her body ran the length of the sofa, with her feet on the armrest, and she had let her eyes sink closed as Max played with her hair.

“You know, when I lived in Union, I used to go to the library to read the New York papers whenever I had a spare hour…” Cordelia began in a quiet, musing way. “I’d pore over the crime columns and the gossip columns in the hope of catching some mention of my dad. I loved reading about New York, too. I used to collect old guidebooks so I could learn the streets and the subways and the neighborhoods, so that when I came here, I’d never be lost.”

“Did it look like what you imagined?”

“Not exactly. It was so much more than I expected! But the funny thing is, I always assumed that once I got here my real life would begin, that I wouldn’t have to be imagining it all the time. But I found out I could be trapped here, too. And I kept reading the papers anyway. And you know whose name I looked for?”

Max smiled faintly. “Mine?” he answered. His eyes had a quality as though they were contemplating something he was afraid of but that he was determined to do anyway.

She bit her lip. “Did you ever seek out mine?”

Leaning forward, he replaced a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Yes. First by accident, and then so I could figure out where the hell a girl like you comes from. Once I knew who you were, I thought I’d better not try to know you any better, but I kept searching for your name anyway, not knowing why.”

“Do you know why now?”

“Yes. It’s because you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met.”

Cordelia lowered her eyes. Her childhood had taught her how to swat away insults, but she did not yet know how to gracefully take a compliment. Neither said anything for a while after that, and Cordelia would have been happy to let the comfortable silence stretch out a while longer, except that a thought from earlier in the day kept nagging her.

“Charlie’s up to something tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not sure, really. I can just tell. He was preoccupied—they all were—and when he left he told me I was to stay close to my bodyguard and that under no circumstances was I to leave Dogwood.” A faint smile played on her lips, and she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

To her surprise he did not smile back. “What’s he up to, do you think?”

“I guess it probably has something to do with the Hales, although I can’t be sure. Why are you frowning like that? Aren’t you happy that I’m here?”

“Of course. But if Charlie thought it wasn’t safe for you to go out tonight, maybe it’s not safe for you to be out.”

“But I—”

“Just promise me that in the future you’ll stay put if it seems dangerous, and let me come to you?”

“All right. I promise.”

“Good.” Max pushed the hair away from her forehead, as though he wanted an unobstructed view of her face before he kissed her.

The kiss was sweet, and when it was over, Cordelia felt pleasantly fatigued and lay her head on his shoulder. “I wish I could stay here all night…but that would scandalize your mother, wouldn’t it? And anyway, my poor bodyguard is probably sweating right now, terrified I won’t be back before the boss.”

“I know,” Max said sadly. Yet they did not get up immediately, and when they did, they moved slowly and a little regretfully out of that quiet room and its low, warm light. At the door, he removed his leather flying jacket from the hook and handed it to her. “Take this.”

“But Max, you need that! Anyway, it must be near ninety outside; I won’t be cold.”

He nodded in agreement. “Take it anyway,” he said, and Cordelia realized that what he really wanted was for her not to go out with naked arms.

“All right.” As they went down the stairs to the ground floor, she slipped it over her shoulders.

Outside, it was almost as light as day with the streetlights and the passing cars. They could hear music from somewhere, and shouting and laughter filtering from the windows of the higher stories. He reached for her hand and stepped ahead of her off the curb, shielding her from any oncoming cars, and raised an arm. A yellow cab pulled over, and he leaned in the front window to negotiate the price of the long drive.

“He’ll take you,” Max announced, turning to face Cordelia.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

“I should drive you,” he said suddenly.