Chapter Forty-Eight
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
A T THE S OUTH S TREET S EAPORT, THE HORN OF THE SS H IBERNIA blew several warning calls, loud and clear as a firing squad’s shots.
“Ah. This is me. The next grand adventure awaits.”
Throwing her arms around Bea, Evelyn tried to squeeze into that touch everything she couldn’t bear to say out loud. Thank you and I’m sorry and I would never be the same without you and I’ll never have another friend like you as long as I live how will I bear to be without you please won’t you write to me please please please .
“There will be another boat tomorrow,” Bea muttered into her shoulder. “Your ticket can be exchanged.”
More of this? Why spoil a perfectly good scene with an encore? Evelyn busied herself with her gloves.
“And why would I do that? If I leave tomorrow, that’s another day I’m not in fabulous Paris.”
“You aren’t really going to let them open The Empire without you, are you?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said. “Yes, I am. I have to.”
Because if I go back, I may never rid myself of this cancerous love for Thomas Gallier .
Once again, the ship’s horn signaled its imminent departure. Panic—sharp and stinging—gripped Bea’s soft features.
“Evelyn,” she said, her voice breaking. “Are you really going to let that man rob you of your dream? Are you going to let him deny you? Please. Don’t betray yourself that way.”
The boat screamed another whistle, and with every intention of turning her friend down, she peered up through the sunshine from under the brim of her traveling hat. Somehow, the angle was just so that she stared head-on at an advertisement painted on the brick wall of a nearby warehouse.
Miss Banting’s, smiling smugly down at her, waving her hands as if to say, Oh, yes, run away with your tail between your legs. I’ve won this round — and every one that will come after .
Her mind changed then and there. Maybe she could have let Thomas win. Maybe she could have run away from his world, from his sharp end of society that would never accept her the way she was.
But she couldn’t abide losing to a damn weight-loss advertisement. Under no circumstances.
Evelyn checked the small watch she kept tucked into the skirt of her traveling dress.
“How fast do you think we can make it to 34th Street?”