Chapter 2 Cynthia
Cynthia
The room she shared with three other girls had been mostly cleared out.
Sharon and Carol had each left earlier in the week for a European vacation and a shopping trip to New York City, respectively.
Only Pauline’s bed remained, spread with linens, and her desk, covered with papers, a box of dusting powder, and several half-wilted bouquets from her many admirers.
Pauline lay stretched out on her unmade bed, her eyes turned towards the ceiling.
She rolled over and propped her face in her hand as Cynthia stepped into the room.
“You look like someone just ran over your dog,” she said, swinging her feet towards the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Does that mean you didn’t get the job?”
If only that were the sole problem. She hadn’t wanted to mention the full extent of her financial troubles to anyone until she was sure how dire they might prove to be.
Even though she considered Pauline to be her closest friend at Barlow, she had not yet revealed the precarious nature of her situation.
But after the meeting with Professor Avery, she craved Pauline’s support.
Cynthia crossed the room and opened a drawer in her desk.
She pulled a sheet of official Barlow letterhead from underneath a pile of notebooks and extended it to her friend.
Pauline took it with the same enthusiasm Cynthia’s mother showed for occupied mousetraps.
Cynthia watched as Pauline’s eyes moved back and forth over the brief lines of text.
“Although we have decided to offer our financial support to another deserving student, we wish you well with all of your future endeavors,” she read aloud as she reached the end.
“If they really cared one whit about my future, they would have extended my scholarship,” Cynthia said. She tried to keep the bitter note from her voice but needn’t have worried. Pauline was on her feet, pacing the floor, her manicured hands on her slim hips.
“So, you don’t have a scholarship and you didn’t get the researcher job. Now what?” Pauline asked.
“I don’t know yet. I asked Professor Avery about any other opportunities, but he said they’ve all been filled by male students.”
“But I thought Professor Avery valued your work on that article. How could he not find a spot for you?” Pauline asked.
“Apparently, the problem is my gender, not my ability.”
Pauline’s eyes widened. “What about your parents? Won’t they help if you ask?”
As much as Cynthia valued her friendship with Pauline, it could be painful to be reminded of how different their situations truly were.
If her friend weren’t so good-natured, it would have been easy to resent her for her lack of understanding about how the world worked for so many.
Pauline’s mother had descended from a Maine lumber baron, and as far as Cynthia could tell, penny-pinching was not within living memory of any of her close relations.
“My parents don’t have the means to assist me. Asking them would just make them feel bad, and it still wouldn’t be of any use.”
“How about if I ask my parents for the money? I know they have it.” Pauline waved a slim hand in the air as if able to brush away the problem with the flick of her wrist. If only it were that easy.
Even if Pauline’s parents were so eager to part with large sums of money, her own would die of shame if she was to even consider accepting any kind of a handout.
It was simply not the way things were done.
Convincing them to allow her to attend college, especially one with a reputation for exclusivity, had been difficult enough.
If they were to suspect she had become high-and-mighty and forgotten herself as a result of it, they would order her home even if she could find a way to pay for the rest of her education.
“I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t possibly ask your parents for money.”
“How would that be any different from asking for a scholarship?” Pauline said.
“It isn’t the same at all. I didn’t ask for a scholarship; I applied for one. There was a lengthy process that wasn’t based on personal connections.”
Pauline shook her head, sending her glossy blond hair spilling about her shoulders. “Mother says that everything is about personal connections. If you won’t allow me to ask them for help, what are you going to do?”
“Even though my parents are going to pitch a fit at the idea of me working, I suppose I shall have to take a job as soon as I can find one and hope that I can earn enough over the summer to pay for at least the next semester.”
“You know, Mount Vernon is a tourist town. I am sure there must be all sorts of jobs available in a place like that. You could still come for the summer like we planned and use some of your time to look for a job. That way your parents won’t even need to know what you’re up to.”
Pauline had a point. Maine had been a tourist destination for decades, and places on the coast or at the lakes were among the most popular.
There was a better chance of her finding something in a resort town than there was back home in South Berwick, where the mills were closing down and outsiders rarely ventured unless they had lost their way.
And if she was honest, she was not looking forward to heading home in the least. Her breaks from college had become increasingly tedious.
Both of her parents had strong opinions about how a woman her age should behave and made sure to remind her at every opportunity.
Her father would not approve of her taking a job to earn tuition money any more than he did of her mother working after he’d returned from overseas.
She doubted either of her parents would allow her to work at anything other than babysitting, and even if she worked round the clock all summer, there was no way she could earn enough from that.
While her parents were more than willing to inform her and her brother that they did not have much money left over for extras, they had no intention of allowing the outside world to share that knowledge.
They lived in dread of the neighbors knowing their business.
If she found a job in Mount Vernon, she could simply tell her parents she had been invited to extend her stay for the entire summer with Pauline’s family.
It would be the perfect solution to her problem, even if she hated the idea of lying to her parents.
Besides, she enjoyed spending time with Pauline.
And, she had to admit, she was more than curious about her friend’s life away from Barlow.
The things she shared about her family and their lifestyle were entirely different from what Cynthia had experienced.
An even darker thought crossed her mind: If she couldn’t earn enough money to return to school in the fall, it was likely the last time she would get to spend with her friend.
She doubted their paths would overlap in the future if she was forced to drop out.
“Are you sure you won’t feel used if I go with you just so I can look for a job?”
“Of course not.” Pauline held up a finger. “But I have no intention of letting you spend all of your time working. There are at least as many eligible young men from good families as there are jobs to be had.”
“If I manage to find a job, I’m not sure I’ll have much time left over for dates.”
Cynthia’s lack of a social life had been a sore trial to Pauline ever since they met. She had done her darnedest to fix her up time and time again, but to no avail. Cynthia had come to college for more than an “MRS degree,” regardless of how hard her friend tried to pair her off.
“Those are my terms. If you want my help in finding a job, you have to accept it for finding a boyfriend as well. And think of how pleased your mother will be if you wind up getting engaged before the summer is up.”
Pauline had a point. Her mother had asked about potential suitors in each and every one of her letters.
She prodded her mercilessly during school breaks as to why she had not attracted a boyfriend, given how many young men were enrolled.
It was all very tedious. Cynthia wasn’t opposed to falling in love, but she was not at all interested in following in her mother’s footsteps.
Still, it would be nice to send letters home that put her mother’s mind a bit more at ease, at least as far as her efforts were concerned. There was no reason not to acquiesce.
“It’s a deal.”
“There’s just one other thing.” A flicker of discomfort crossed Pauline’s face. “I think it would be best if you don’t mention to my parents that you are looking for a job. They won’t approve of it any more than yours will.”
Cynthia’s stomach squeezed. Maybe she ought not accompany Pauline to Mount Vernon after all.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to visit? I have to find a job.”
“Of course you should still come. My parents won’t have any idea about what you are up to so long as you don’t come right out and tell them.”
The idea of deceiving her hosts didn’t match with Cynthia’s notion of what being a good guest entailed. Her stomach pulled into a tight knot.
“I feel uncomfortable doing something behind your parents’ backs.”
“It isn’t your fault that they’re snobs. Besides, you don’t plan to mention your job search to yours, either, do you?”
That settled it. “How soon do we leave?”