Chapter 8
Some days, I still couldn’t believe my brother was gone.
As I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, I wondered if I would ever accept his passing, ever be able to see past the monolith of loss that divided my life into the before and after.
Julien’s scent had faded, but traces of his energy emanated from the dented pillow on his bed, the forgotten socks on his floor, the assortment of his toiletries, comb, and shaving blades scattered across his dresser top.
Dust coated its surface, and the window was grimy after months without cleaning it.
I couldn’t bring myself to sort through his things and give them away, to erase the final proof that my other half had once been here, vibrant and more alive than anyone I’d ever known.
I wondered, as I gazed at the photograph of us on his wall, if he walked in the space between death and afterlife or if there was no such thing as life beyond the grave.
And yet I felt his presence in every breath, every corner of my mind, every cell of my being.
Mist clouded my vision, and I quickly closed his door.
I crossed the hall to look in on my father.
He was dozing, but he’d left only a single bread crust and the last dredges of porridge in his bowl.
I was heartened by his returning appetite, though I still hadn’t fully regained my own.
As I crept into his room to retrieve the tray, my gaze fell upon the small porcelain dish on his dresser filled with four ticket stubs.
Curious, I read the small print. They were admittance to Barnum & Bailey’s Circus, “The Greatest Show on Earth.”
I was transported instantly to that day seven years before when Father, Julien, Henry, and I had spent the morning watching the circus parade.
Colorful chariots, camels, dozens of elephants and gilded cages filled with wild jungle animals and those from the safari, and streams of glittering performers had marched through our city down Pennsylvania Avenue past the White House and to the circus grounds on First Street.
At two o’clock, we’d attended the variety of shows beneath the ten-acre tent along with tens of thousands of men, women, and children.
It had been a perfect day. When the acrobats had entered the ring nearest us, we’d thundered with applause.
“Can you imagine swinging from a hoop that high above the ground?” I’d said.
Henry had bumped my shoulder. “I could see you doing that. You’re braver than you think you are.”
“You really think so?” I asked, surprised by his comment.
“You don’t remember the way you climbed the trellis up the side of my house without batting an eye? Or the tree behind your house?” He shook his head. “One day, you will surprise us all.”
I blushed with pleasure. I liked the way Henry saw me, the way he encouraged me to be myself without apology.
“She could definitely be an acrobat, but you couldn’t,” Julien said. “You’d be crying your eyes out at that height!”
Henry tossed a handful of hot corn at my brother, and we dissolved into laughter. Julien loved to tease Henry about his fear of heights, and Henry in turn teased him about snakes. He’d even made a fake snake once and hid it under Julien’s pillow.
After the flying trapeze, leopard tamers, and men diving through flaming hoops, we’d headed home where Father had regaled us with stories of the first circus he’d attended as a boy in Paris. We’d laughed at the mischief he’d made with his brothers and the boys from his neighborhood.
I returned the tickets to the porcelain dish, the comforting image of that perfect day fading as quickly as it had come.
In its stead, a persistent ache spread through my chest. I’d never thought of my life as perfect, but I’d give anything to go back in time, to savor every moment when we were all together and the world was right again.
To marvel at every instance I’d had with the four of us together, easy in our laughter, easy in the knowledge that we had each other and always would.
My eyes misted over for a second time that day, and I quickly shoved the thoughts away. As I reached for Father’s tray, he stirred in his bed and sat up.
“Where were you yesterday?” he said. “You’ve been gone a lot these days.”
He’d noticed? I assumed he wouldn’t, given that he so rarely left his bedroom. I scrambled for something to say, some lie I could offer to hide where I’d really been. I decided on some version of the truth.
“I’ve been conferring with potential clients.”
His graying brow raised in a question. “How so? Are you going door-to-door?”
A lie tumbled from my lips. “I was invited to dinner by one of Julien’s old friends, Sam Jacobs. Remember him, from Julien’s dinner party last summer? Sam introduced me to a few people while I was there, and I’ve been able to set up several appointments.”
He nodded. “Good. Keep me abreast of what’s happening.”
“Of course,” I said, smothering my relief that he’d bought the story. “Can I bring you anything else?”
“I’ll get the newspapers in a while. You don’t need to bring them up.”
Both glad to escape more questions and that he seemed to be moving about the house a bit more lately, I nodded. “I’ll be in the shop if you need me.”
I headed downstairs just as a sharp rap sounded at the boutique door. I opened it to find a stranger on my doorstep.
“Hello, are you Miss Beaumont?” he said.
I frowned, trying to place the man’s face. He had angular features, gaunt cheeks, and a dark suit that looked as if it had seen its better days. I was fairly certain I didn’t know him. “I am,” I answered cautiously.
“Might I come in?”
“Are you here to see our collection?” I pressed. He certainly didn’t look the sort who would spend much on jewelry, but then again, most people liked to celebrate special occasions in some way. Perhaps it was his wife’s birthday.
He pressed his lips together before speaking, and I decided I didn’t like the edge to his voice and the set of his shoulders or the permanent groove between his eyes from years of frowning. “I am not, but I’d like to speak with you. It’s important.”
“I’m not in the habit of entertaining strangers without an appointment, sir.”
“Of course. My apologies. My name is Bradford Jones. I work for Planters Bank and Trust.”
All the blood drained from my face. The very same collector who had called the house and sent the notices I’d shoved into a drawer in my desk. My face must have reflected my panic, because before I could think of how to respond, he rushed on.
“Your mortgage is seven months past due. Shall we discuss how you might begin to pay for it? I’m afraid ignoring our notices isn’t an option, Miss Beaumont. We’d hate to expel you from your home.”
“Oh, I…” My heart raced. We didn’t have the money, not quite yet.
And I hadn’t the slightest idea how I could come up with it any faster.
I’d spent far too many days at silly events lately, playing at being a socialite, hoping it would bring in new clients, but nothing had come of it yet, save cleaning Evalyn’s collection, and we hadn’t yet set a date for when I’d begin or the payment schedule.
What was more, I hadn’t heard a peep from our long list of previous clients to whom I’d sent handwritten invitations to drop by the boutique.
There were a few outstanding items I could finish that were already sold, and then there was my collection…
But I didn’t want to waste time on it when I wasn’t certain it would sell anyway.
I needed my father to return to work as soon as possible.
I needed to impress upon him how difficult things had become for us.
“If I might come inside, we could talk about a repayment schedule,” he pressed.
But rather than invite him inside, I slammed the door in his face, locked it, and raced through the boutique into the workshop to distance myself from the inevitable, persistent knock that came next at the front door.
Heart pounding, I squeezed my eyes closed.
Being the official jeweler for the McLeans would be helpful in a few weeks’ time, but it wasn’t enough, I knew. I’d have to woo Evalyn’s friends, too.
I listened to the gentleman’s pounding at the door for some time before he finally gave up, and I was able to breathe again.
As I returned to my worktable, mind racing, my eyes fell upon the Rosalee Smith commission.
It was nearly finished, and though she’d already paid for it in full, an idea shimmered in my mind.
She was a long-term customer who, like Evalyn, never seemed to have enough jewelry.
If I finished her earrings quickly, I could deliver them personally and perhaps talk her into purchasing another piece. I had to try at least.
I didn’t waste any time. I pulled on my smock and jeweler’s goggles and dove into my work, losing myself, losing sense of time and place, my mind emptying of all but the exquisite earrings in front of me.
For the first time in months, it felt like a refuge as every other thought dissolved but my attention on the weight of the pliers in my hands and the sparkle of the diamond. By noon, I’d finished the earrings.
When I arrived at the Smith residence and the butler showed me inside, Rosalee’s surprise registered on her pretty features.
“Hello, Miss Beaumont. How nice it is to see you.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve finished your earrings and thought I’d deliver them in person as a courtesy,” I said. “Thank you for your patience. It’s been…a difficult year.”
“Not at all,” she said with a kind smile. “I know you’ve been through a lot. You’ve grown very thin, my dear. I hope you’re eating.”
I avoided her eyes and the pity I was sure to see in them. “I—yes,” was all I could manage.
She seemed to understand and changed the subject. “Can I see the earrings?”
“Of course!” I said, relieved she’d let the topic drop. I gave her the velvet bag with a small jewelry box nestled inside it.
As she opened it, she smiled. “They’re so beautiful!
They’re prettier even than the sketch your father showed me.
Let’s have a look in the mirror, here at the end of the hallway.
” She removed the pearls she was wearing and replaced them with my father’s creation.
A sizable diamond rested in the middle of a nest of gold that looped around the stone. “Incredible.”
I nodded. “He is a master, isn’t he?”
“You made these, though, didn’t you?”
“My father started them, and I finished them. It was a team effort.” As Rosalee peered into the mirror, admiring the way they sparkled, I knew this was my chance. “There’s an exquisite necklace that pairs with the earrings. I don’t know if my father…or Julien showed it to you?”
“A matching necklace?” Her hand touched the hollow of her throat as if the necklace were already there. “No, he didn’t. Now I must see it.”
“It hasn’t been made yet, but it is in the works.
This is the design.” I held out the sketch I’d brought with me.
“You see, here’s the nest and a series of diamonds.
I’ve begun work on it and could likely finish it within two to three weeks should you be interested. I’m finally back at work in earnest.”
“You’re a temptress, Elisabeth!” she said with a smile. “My husband wouldn’t notice the new jewelry. He never does… Nor does he need to. I’d love to have the necklace, too.”
I nearly collapsed with relief. “Wonderful. Would you like to make a deposit or pay in full?”
“Why don’t I pay in full?” she said. “I know you’re good for the jewelry, and since it’s only going to take a few weeks, we’ll see each other again soon. Let me just get the banknotes for you.”
We were in a good position to fulfill this commission.
We had all the stones and the gold in stock, so the sum collected could immediately cover two of the seven outstanding months of the mortgage.
I could also pay several of the utility and supply bills.
It wouldn’t relieve us for long, but it was a start until I managed to find other clients.
At the very least, it would silence Bradford Jones for a while.
“Here we are,” Rosalee said as she returned. She’d placed the banknotes in an envelope. “I look forward to wearing the set to my in-laws’ gala this summer.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I’m thrilled to make this for you and will do my best to finish it quickly.”
She smiled. “I know you will.” As I turned to go, she stopped me. “Elisabeth, I’m so sorry about your brother, but I’m happy to see you on your feet again.”
A lump formed in my throat, and not trusting myself to speak, I forced a weak smile and headed for the door.