Tiffany Girl (33 page)

He squeezed his knees. It was his last entry, and none of his notes showed him how to write a love story between Marylee and the bibliomaniac. He had no idea how to proceed. He only knew his notes were far too personal and specific.

If he hadn’t wanted the money so badly, he’d tell his chief to find someone else to write the column. But he did want the money, more than anything he’d ever wanted before. And desperate times required desperate measures. Gathering up his papers, he tucked them into the back of his drawer, then made his way to the parlor.

BOX COVER FOR
THE BOARD GAME OF OLD MAID  
²⁷

“That had left Miss Jayne without a partner for The Board Game of Old Maid, and Reeve with no choice but to pair up with her.”

CHAPTER

45

R
eeve flicked the spinner, sending its arrow into a whirl. Mr. Trostle had been called to Milwaukee on business, so Mrs. Trostle was packing his bags, and the Hollidays had retired early. That had left Miss Jayne without a partner for The Board Game of Old Maid, and Reeve with no choice but to pair up with her. They needed a two to advance to
They Meet
—the initial square all players had to reach with an exact spin. It slowed to a stop on the number five.

“Too bad,” Nettels said.

Swatting the air, Miss Jayne gave Reeve a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. Once we get through this first part, I’m sure we’ll sail through the rest of the board.”

He hoped so. This was the dumbest game he’d ever played. For the next three rotations, he spun everything except a two. Meanwhile, Oyster and Miss Love landed on
Pleased With Each Other
and advanced three spaces, then
Ride A Bicycle Built For Two
. Nettels and Mrs. Dinwiddie progressed to
Go On A Picnic
.

Reeve handed the spinner to Miss Jayne.

“No, no,” she said. “I’m a terrible spinner.”

“I insist.”

After a brief hesitation, she spun.

“Two!”
Miss Love exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Good for you, Flossie.”

Miss Jayne kept her attention on the board, refusing to meet his eye. Reaching across, he scooted their piece to
They Meet
. Nettels landed on
Misunderstanding. Go back to They Meet
.

“Oh, no!” Miss Love gave Mr. Nettels a sympathetic look. “You’re going to be as far back as Mr. Wilder.”

Miss Jayne stiffened. Reeve leaned back in his chair. In the next spin, Oyster and Miss Love sailed over a penalty square and on to
Little Brother Takes a Hand
. Miss Jayne passed Reeve the spinner. He flicked the arrow. Six.

“Look at that, everyone!” Miss Jayne swept up their piece. “The highest number of spaces. One, two, three, f-four . . .” Biting her lip, she counted the last two spaces silently.

Nettels snorted again.

Uncongenial. Go Back 3 Spaces.

Without a word, Miss Jayne moved their token backward, again avoiding eye contact. Nettels and Dinwiddie landed on
Rushes Matters—Go To Proposal
, which allowed them to skip a good portion of the board, thank Caesar’s ghost. With any luck, they’d win and put him out of his misery.

But in the next three rounds Nettels kept landing on
Papa Says No—Go Back To Proposal
, keeping the game very much alive. Reeve and Miss Jayne
Fall In Love At First Sight
,
Give Each Other Presents
, and
Go To The Opera
while Oyster struggled to keep up and Nettels eventually got past Papa, only to become stuck at the end where the couple had to have another exact spin. Finally, they all caught up to Nettels, everyone’s pawns crowding onto one square.

What Shall the Answer Be? Exact Spin.

Reeve flicked the arrow. With a three, they’d land on
Yes
, and live happily ever after. A four, they’d land on
No
and Miss Jayne would become an old maid.

Round and round the spinner turned. Miss Jayne clasped her hands in her lap, her fingers pressed tightly together. The spinner slowed.
Two . . . five . . . one . . .
Slower.
Threeeeeeeee . . .

He held his breath.

Four.
The tip of the arrow crept into the green pie-shaped section marked with a four. After a slight hesitation, he reached into the center of the spiral path they’d just traversed, picked up their piece, and set it on a big red heart with
N-O
printed in its center.

He turned to Miss Jayne. “I’m sorry.”

Lifting her eyes, she started to reach for him, then withdrew. “Please don’t be. I very much enjoyed being your partner. It’s not how the game ends, but the pleasure of taking a journey together.”

He pushed his chair back, then what she said began to permeate. It wasn’t the destination, but the journey. His attention swiveled to the board.

They Meet. Exact Spin.

Uncongenial. Go Back 3 Spaces.

Pleased With Each Other. Advance 3 Spaces.

Misunderstanding. Go Back To They Meet.

He raised the corners of his mouth. There it was. The entire love story. Mapped out right before him. From the troubles they have meeting to getting the proposal past Papa to the questionable ending—and all the ups and downs in between.

Turning back to her, he gave her a nod. “I believe you’re right, Miss Jayne. I do believe you’re right.”

Her eyes brightened. Her shoulders lifted. “I’m glad, and I’m happy to be your partner anytime.”

He glanced around the table. “Am I excused?”

Mrs. Dinwiddie gave an affectionate shake of her head. “You are excused.”

With a nod and a good night, he retreated to his room to do his level best at constructing a romance between Marylee and the bibliomaniac.

CHAPTER

46

T
he last person Flossie expected to see in her bedroom doorway was Mr. Wilder. The rest of the family at 438 were frequent visitors, but Mr. Wilder had never so much as gone past his room.

She sat with her back to a yellow lamp, her feet propped in her bookshelf. Placing a marker in
Pride and Prejudice
, she set her feet down and placed the book her grandmother had given her onto the bookshelf next to the rest of her Jane Austen collection. “Hello.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, he looked about her room, reminding her of Mr. Darcy when he’d gone to profess his love to Elizabeth but was unable to spit out the words. Of course, Mr. Wilder had no such feelings for her, but his discomfort was palpable nonetheless.

Cracking his knuckles, he took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

A favor? “Certainly,” she said. “How can I help you?”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he looked at the toes of his shoes. “Well, it’s just that I’ve been assigned a piece for the newspaper about the Tiffany Girls and their reactions to the upcoming culmination of the Glass Cutters’ strike. I was wondering if, perhaps, you could introduce me to some of the ladies you work with?”

“I see.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “This is certainly a departure from the point of view you normally present, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I could ask them to meet with you, but I’m not sure when they’d have the time. We work solid during the day and after the long hours we worked getting the chapel ready, everyone is anxious to leave come quitting time.”

“So you don’t think they’d stay and talk to me?”

“I could ask them, but I’m not optimistic.”

His shoulders drooped.

She slowly straightened. “Wait, I have an idea.”

He looked at her sideways. “What kind of idea?”

She stood. “Mr. Tiffany is holding a reception in celebration of the awards his chapel has won so far at the fair. It’s this Saturday at the San Remo—a magnificent hotel on Central Park West. It would be perfect. He’s invited all of us Tiffany Girls.”

“A reception? You mean, like a ball?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “And you’re going?”

“Of course I’m going.” She nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it. None of us would. Well, actually, there are a couple of girls who don’t have anything appropriate to wear and don’t feel as if they’ll fit in.” She shrugged. “Truth be told, none of us will fit in, but I still want to go. I’ve lent out dresses to the Tiffany Girls who are similar in size to me, and the rest are remaking gowns they already have.”

He shook his head. “
The World
would never be able to secure an invitation to that.”

“The paper won’t need to secure an invitation. Mr. Tiffany told us to give him the name of a guest we’d like to bring. The other girls are bringing family members. Out of my family here at 438, I’d thought to submit Mr. Oyster’s name.”

He stiffened. “Oyster?”

“Well, yes. I didn’t want to go alone, naturally, nor take my
father when I couldn’t take Mother as well. I haven’t yet submitted Mr. Oyster’s name, though. Something kept holding me back.”

He glanced up and down the hall, then approached her, lowering his voice. “You must be very careful not to encourage Oyster. He doesn’t, um, speak respectfully about the fair sex, and his motives for the charm he exudes are not completely honorable.”