Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1927
L ouisa
“Clara, what the…?” Sobs rattle my sister like a twig in a windstorm. “What is it? What has happened?”
“I—I’m sorry.” Clara’s words are lost in a round of cascading tears.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I gently steer her to the corner of the stairwell, certain she wouldn’t want to be seen in her current state.
“Slow down. Take a deep breath.” Clara follows my instructions, taking slow, ragged breaths. “There you go. That’s it.”
She shakes her head in disagreement, but I’ve no idea what has caused this unhinged version of my usually timid and straitlaced sister.
“You don’t understand.”
“Well, I certainly won’t unless you tell me what the trouble is.” My teasing tone does little to quell her upset state.
“I’ve ruined everything.”
“I am sure that isn’t the case. Take your time and tell me what happened.”
“Oh, when Ms. Thompson finds out, I’ll be sacked for sure.” Clara’s chin tilts up a fraction, her eyes searching mine. “And William.” A guttural moan slips from her lips as though she is a wounded animal.
“What about William?” I place a hand on each of her shoulders in an attempt to steady her.
“He won’t want anything to do with me now.” Clara’s head lolls to one side. “I really liked him, you know. Which is probably wrong, given that he is Ms. Thompson’s brother and a hotel guest as well.” She covers her mouth with both hands, muffling her anguished sobs.
“Clara, you are scaring me. Please tell me what has happened.” I grip her shoulders now, shaking her slightly to gain her attention.
I wait patiently as she tries to gather herself. “I—I slapped a hotel guest.”
At the words, I stumble backwards. “You did what?”
Her tormented expression tells me I haven’t kept my reaction in check. I try again. “Start from the beginning. Please. I can’t believe you would simply slap anyone, let alone without cause. Tell me what happened, and we can figure this out.”
“I, he…” She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I tried to avoid him, but he is everywhere. In the lobby, in the hallway, and even when he’s not in his room, he suddenly appears.” Clara’s exasperation appears to be ruling her emotional state, causing her to ramble.
“Tried to avoid who?” I bite back my frustration at her unwillingness, or inability, to tell me plainly what is going on.
Her sheepish expression lets me know she is embarrassed to say the words out loud. “It’s Mr. Barnes.”
“What? Why in the world would you slap Mr. Barnes?” The accusation is out of my mouth before I can reel it in. No, this can’t be right. Scenarios race through my head, none of them seeming even remotely possible for the kind man who is set to help me advance my acting career.
Clara glares at me, her eyes backlit with fire. “I tried to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Softening my tone, I rub her arms, trying to coax her out. “I am sure this is all a misunderstanding. You’ll see.”
“I was standing up for myself.” Clara’s lips twist in contemplation before she drops her head into her hands and mumbles, “He wanted to kiss me, Lou.”
My head spins as I try to make sense of what she’s said. This can’t be.
An exasperated sigh whooshes from her lips. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ve certainly ruined my chances at winning the eighth-floor holiday bonus, once Ms. Thompson hears what I’ve done. I wanted so badly to show you…” Her shoulders drop an inch further than I thought them capable of. “To prove to myself, really, that I could manage without you. You always know what to do, and I just—I wanted you to know I could handle things so you could follow your dreams without worrying about me.” A distraught moan leaves her body. “I probably won’t even be gifted the turkey for Christmas dinner. Honestly, I’ll be lucky if I still have a job once Mr. Olson hears of it.” Clara’s head shakes vehemently back and forth.
Realizing that remaining in the back-of-house stairwell in tears is a sure way to escalate this situation, should someone stumble upon us, I stand a little straighter, intending to get my sister tucked out of sight. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I nudge her down the corridor toward the locker room. “We have no reason to believe you will lose your job over this.” Even I don’t believe my words, but until I can figure out what actually happened between Clara and Mr. Barnes, my sole goal is to keep Clara calm. I guide her toward the privacy of the locker room, offering soothing words as we move.
Once there, I step into the hallway to give her some much-needed space to wash her face and fix her hair. My mind runs rampant with the few insights Clara has provided. I’ve never seen her this distraught, and I can’t help but wonder if she has been mistaken.
Mr. Barnes has been nothing but helpful and courteous to me. Try as I might, I cannot imagine the man, who is my only hope of finding success in Hollywood, as someone my sister would have reason to strike. There must be something else at play here. I tap a finger to my bottom lip. I will simply have to figure out what it is.
Clara emerges from the locker room, still with red blotches across her tear-stained face. Her hair is pulled back in a severe and uncomfortable-looking bun. I wonder if she is punishing herself or simply trying to exert some control.
Ushering a certainty, which I definitely do not feel, into my words, I loop my arm through Clara’s and begin the short walk to the lunchroom. “We’ll have lunch first, and then we can sort things out. If we get there before the others, you’ll have a little more time to collect yourself.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I ignore her protest. “I will say that you found a break in your day and decided to join us for an earlier-than-usual lunch.”
Clara eyes me warily but says nothing.
“I believe Cookie’s soup is still being served. A bowl will do you good.”
I stop a few paces short of the lunchroom. “We need to see what happens. Let things settle a bit and then make a plan. If after lunch there is still no news of the…” I hesitate, trying to find the right word. “The incident from Ms. Thompson, then we will figure out what to do next.”
“But, what if…?” Clara’s voice pitches high with worry.
I shake my head. “We cannot know what is going to happen, so there is no point in worrying about it. Let’s take this one step at a time. I am sure we will find a solution.” I squeeze Clara’s arm, then tug her into the lunchroom, permeated with the scent of chicken soup.
My mind feels as though it is running in different directions. A solution must be found. Preferably one that will put Clara at ease while also securing my own future. It is a tall order and, given my sister’s current emotional state, one I must fill on my own.