Chapter Forty-Seven #2
“She seemed all right.”
“You think Stan is still supporting her?”
“Must be, right? She’s still at the Audubon.”
I bite my lower lip. “Well, then…I guess she doesn’t need anything from me.” Will she ever speak to me, if she doesn’t need anything from me? My heart feels freshly bruised, and I let out a long, heavy breath. “I miss her,” I say. “In spite of it all, I do. I miss having a family.”
“You’ve got a family right here, Ev. One of the top families in America.”
I can feel my face drop at this remark, and Penny must notice because she changes tack. “I’m sure she misses you, too, Ev.” Penny puts her hand on mine, holding me in a searching gaze.
I shrug at this, pulling my eyes from my friend’s stare, not willing to let her look too deeply. “I suppose she’ll come calling once Stan finally stops paying the bills,” I answer.
“Do you ever speak to him?”
“To Stan?” I ask, hitching an eyebrow. Penny nods.
“Absolutely not,” I respond. I don’t even want to envision what Hal’s reaction would be if he were to hear Penny ask such a question.
“Well, she’s a prize fool,” Penny says, lightening her tone. “To miss out on all this. Why, you live in a palace! You’re married to a millionaire. This is the tiger’s stripes right here. It’s her loss.”
“You’re right,” I say, trying to match her cheery tone.
But Penny is still staring at me, and she narrows her eyes, as though not entirely satisfied with my response. After a pause, she says, “Ev, it is the tiger’s stripes, right? Happily ever after for America’s Cinderella and all that bunk I’m always reading in the papers about you?”
I can’t bear to meet my friend’s too-observant gaze, so instead I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her in for an embrace, burrowing my face into her hair so that she can’t see the pain in my expression. “Penny, it’s a regular old fairy tale.”
The next morning is cold but sunny, and Penny and I take breakfast together in my bed before we set out for a walk along Beechwood Boulevard, Miranda bounding happily between us.
“You must tell me everything, Penny,” I say, weaving my arm through hers. I’m like a starved person, I realize, desperate for news of Manhattan and her life and the Broadway gossip, all of which feel entirely foreign to me now.
But Penny doesn’t seem to think she has anything all that exciting to report.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ev. Broadway, well…
it’s not the same. I mean, sure, in some ways it is.
The bright lights, the new shows. The parties at night, the Stage-Door Johnnies.
But, well, it all feels less glittery now.
Maybe because I miss you. Maybe because I’m so old. ”
“Hardly old,” I say, smirking at her.
“Maybe not by your standards, but for a showgirl? You’re about to turn twenty-one; I’m about to turn twenty-five! I’ve got a couple more years, at most. I’m already the oldest gal in the chorus at Hearts of Gold. If I try out for another show, I’ll have to lie about my age.”
This makes my head spin. To think about how we were so young when we started that we had to lie about our ages for the opposite reason. “What would you like to do next?” I ask.
“Suppose I should settle down,” Penny says, staring at a colossal estate, with its wrought iron fence and stately old trees, as we walk past. “If I knew what was good for me, I’d have snagged myself a rich husband years ago, when I was still one of the shiny new things.”
It’s not like Penny to sound disheartened. “Well, have you got a sweetheart?”
“Not a serious one. You know how they are. Champagne Charlies, promising the world at midnight, offering much less come sunrise.”
I glance downward, nodding. Of course I know.
Why, Penny was one of the friends who first warned me to stay away from them.
I sigh, preparing to tell her that she’s the greatest catch on the island of Manhattan, and not to lose heart, but before I can say anything, she interrupts my thoughts: “There was one fellow, a year ago…. I thought…I hoped…Oh, but I can’t even stand to think of him.
” She heaves a sad exhale, her breath misting the cold air. “We can’t all be as lucky as you, Ev.”
I freeze mid-step. Struck, in that moment, by the fact that Penny is just as disillusioned with her life as I am with mine.
Which one of us feels more trapped? While I’ve envied Penny the freedom and excitement of her days and nights on Broadway, she looks at my life and believes I’ve landed myself the storybook ending.
Safety, security, a husband, and a grand home.
My friend is tired. She doesn’t know what comes next, and it’ll fall on her, alone, to figure it out.
She’s lonely, too. Broadway will never be her happy ending.
Does anyone truly get the happy ending? Didn’t I learn long ago that all fantasies crack at a certain point? I faced that truth as a sad and lonely little girl, and then I’ve learned it again, many times since. Happy endings can turn into tragic stories, in the blink of an eye.
I’m thinking through all of this, ready to get downright philosophical, but Penny interjects: “Speaking of sweethearts, I’d say you’ve got yourself yet another admirer, Ev.
” I’m confused by this, but she goes on.
“I swear that man has been behind us the entire time.” Penny tosses a look over her shoulder, whispering, “Who is he, some local gent who holds a candle for you, hoping to try his chances while Mr. Thorne is away?”
I turn in the direction she’s indicated and see a man about twenty paces behind us, in a dark greatcoat and a fedora that throws his face into shadow. When he sees us staring, he, too, ceases his steps and suddenly becomes preoccupied with the wrought iron fence at his side.
I frown; it’s true that the man appears familiar. I have seen him around town. But is he following me?
Never know who might be following, right? Hal’s odd words. He is so convinced that men are following him. Does he now have men trailing me?
Later, after I’ve sent the staff to bed and Penny has retreated to the guest room, I pad down the darkened hallway, and I knock on her door.
“Yes?” she says.
I step in, find her tucked under her covers, her hair pinned back, a lone candle lit on her bedside table. “Can I come in?”
“Why, it’s your house,” she quips. “I’m only here until you throw me out.”
I don’t return her smile. Instead, I plop down onto the bed, and I take her hands in mine. Unable to fight it an instant longer, I crumple. The tears come out, hot and urgent, and I close my eyes.
“Oh, Ev!” She pulls me into a hug, and I’m so weepy that I fall into her arms, all resolve and fortitude gone. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want you to go, Pen,” I manage to gasp out.
She hugs me tighter, patting my back.
“I wish you could stay.”
“Trust me, I’d stay if I could.”
But we both know she can’t. Hal will be home, with Mother, tomorrow. And Penny’s break from work has reached its end. We each have to return to reality. Though it seems that neither of us is ready to do so.