Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1927
L ouisa
I wave to Clara and William as they leave for the ball, and though I am happy for my sister, I feel a pang of sadness that I am no closer to fulfilling my own dreams. Now, they feel even more unattainable. Ms. Thompson stands beside me, both of us watching the merriment of the hotel’s first New Year’s celebration with tired expressions.
The lobby has been transformed, with low-slung chairs gathered around small, round tables. The Christmas tree apparently came down yesterday afternoon, significantly expanding the available space in the lobby. Piano music filters through the room like a bird riding a breeze of wind. An extensive bar sits in the corner near the hotel’s front windows, with waiters coming and going from it in rapid succession.
Mrs. Oxley-Barnes, soon to be minus the “Barnes , ” steps from the lift and joins us at the edge of the fanfare. “Seems to be a quaint little party.” She peers directly into my eyes. “I’ll be having a drink, if anyone needs me.”
I am considering her words when Ms. Thompson nudges me forward. “Go on, Miss Wilson. The woman has invited you to join her. Don’t keep her waiting.”
I take the vacant seat next to the woman as a waiter I’ve never seen in the hotel stops at our table. “I’ll have a sidecar. Actually, better make that two. I feel I might be needing it tonight.” She looks at me. “What can I get you? I am sure it is the least I can do, considering your assistance with my soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“Just a glass of water, please.”
The waiter shifts his tray from one hand to the other. “We have punch without spirits if you would prefer something festive.”
“Thank you, punch would be lovely.”
“Have we met before?” Mrs. Oxley-Barnes scrutinizes me from across the table.
I extend my hand. “Louisa Wilson. Pleased to meet you, Mrs.—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand before offering mine a light squeeze. “Call me Rose. I’ve never liked the double last name, but my father insisted I maintain my family name to keep from getting lost in another man’s world. I think I’ll enjoy going back to ‘Oxley,’ despite father knowing best and all that.”
She studies my face. “You were the maid I met a few months ago. I remember thinking you were pretty then. I can see why he chose you.” Rose pauses as the waiter delivers our drinks, placing a steaming plate of Hu’s dim sum in the centre of our table. She takes a sip from her squat glass. “I assume he did choose you?”
“It seems so.” As soon as the words are out of my lips, I want to pull them back. “I didn’t realize he was married.”
She nods and takes another sip before popping a morsel of dim sum into her mouth. Her first glass is going down quickly.
“And,” I add in an effort to clarify, “I didn’t invite or accept his attention in that way.”
“You are certainly not the first. I just hope you are the last.” Another sip from her glass and I can see the bottom. “What did he lure you in with?”
I look at her, my jaw slack.
“He always has a play. Who was he pretending to be in Vancouver?”
“He told me he was a Hollywood director, and my dream of acting in motion pictures convinced me he was telling the truth.” I feel shame climbing my neck in a swath of red.
Rose’s laugh comes out like a bark, startling me. “A director? Well, that is a new one. I hate to break it to you, but Harold Barnes is nothing more than an accountant.”
She waves her empty glass in the waiter’s direction, and he signals his acknowledgement. Her second sidecar is on the way.
“He is an accountant for a film company, or at least he was.” Another dismissive wave of Rose’s hand tells me she is thoroughly done with the man. “Honey, he is the furthest thing from being in the know when it comes to filmmaking.”
I bob my head in understanding as the waiter places her second cocktail in front of her.
Leaning across the table, Rose lowers her voice, concern etched into the corners of her eyes. “Is the girl going to be okay? Did he hurt her?”
I meet her halfway across the table with my own quiet reply. “She is going to feel unwell for a while, but other than a bruised ego and a whopping headache, Gwen has assured us he didn’t have a chance to harm her.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Before tonight, she had never had a drop of alcohol. She said the drink tasted like punch.” I look at my own glass, eyeing it more warily now. “She gulped two down in quick succession, and she remembers she was sipping number three when she collapsed onto the chaise lounge and dropped the glass.” I shake my head, thinking about Gwen’s final comment before her parents appeared in Ms. Thompson’s office. “The drink spilling on the carpet was her biggest concern. I suppose she might be a keeper as a Hamilton maid, after all.”
Rose sits back, relief flooding out of her in a long exhale. “I am glad. I’m not sure what I would have done if he had caused her harm. I would have blamed myself for sure.” She tilts the glass to her lips.
I lean across the table and meet her eyes, determined for her to hear me. “He wins if we blame ourselves. We can’t let him win, Rose.”
Rose sits back in her chair, her fingers drawing imaginary lines up and down her glass. “It was you? With the message?”
The room is getting warm as more guests crowd inside, the evening nearing midnight. I decide the waiter is trustworthy and take a sip of my punch. The sweet concoction tickles my tongue.
“Yes, it was me.” I fiddle with the cocktail napkin my drink sits on. “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me. I was trying to be discreet.”
“Oh, you were very discreet, Louisa. It took me the better part of three hours to figure out what your message meant. When his telegram arrived, I put the pieces together.” Rose pushes her half-full drink to the side of the table. “After that, the decision was made.”
I nod solemnly, understanding that regardless of what needed to be done this evening, Mr. Barnes’ actions still cost Rose a marriage, and that can’t be easy.
After a few minutes of silence between us, Rose brushes her bereavement away, replacing it with a triumphant smile. “I did a little research myself, Louisa. I’ve read about your recent success on the stage. Seems you might have been an easy target for my good-for-nothing soon-to-be ex-husband. But there is something I want to share with you, woman to woman.
“I don’t want you to think I am successful because of my family name. My father instilled his work ethic in me. He encouraged all of his children to work hard and strive toward their goals. He is a fine example of embracing each day as a new opportunity.” She leans forward and laughs. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why Harold managed to cling to me for so long. I thought that one day I would make him into the husband I wanted him to be.
“I suppose we all have our blind spots. But I built my career with hard work, determination, and belief in myself and what I was doing.” She raises one eyebrow, and I do not miss the challenge laced within it. “You took a risk tonight. In calling out a man for his inappropriate actions. Many women wouldn’t have done so, and certainly not with such fanfare and flare.” She eyes my attire, the blue stole slung over an empty chair beside me, with an approving smile.
“It seems you also believe in yourself and what you stand for, Louisa. The question is, do you have it in you to keep believing? Hollywood may appear to be full of glitter and sunshine, but it isn’t for the faint of heart. What you experienced tonight, though devastating, is all too often common behaviour in the movie business. Are you up for that?”
I square my shoulders, feeling the thrum of assuredness as it courses through me. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Rose stands, eyeing me expectantly. “You have my number. Be sure to stay in touch. Get a few more credits under your belt, and then we’ll talk. We women need to stick together, after all.”
She extends her hand once more to me, and I rise and accept it. She waves the waiter over and tells him to charge the drinks to suite 815.
I try to hold my tongue, even going so far as to bite my bottom lip. But I take my last chance before she walks out of earshot, knowing that if my career is going to move forward, then I have to be the one to make it happen.
“Rose,” I call out to her, and she turns. “I’ll get those credits.”
A confident smile and an acknowledging nod tell me she’s looking forward to our next conversation.