Chapter One #2
Grace squeezed her back. She held the entry ticket carefully in her hand, as delicately as a living thing. Then she pinned back her hair and hurried to follow her cousins down the hand-carved staircase.
“What’s this?” Aunt Clove asked coldly. She rose with barely disguised irritation when Grace appeared in the soaring foyer.
Aunt Clove’s satin train was wrapped around her feet, swirling behind her on the marble floor, as she tied on her formal feathered hat.
“Lillie, I thought you were saving that dress for the president’s dinner, not so that Grace could wear it for an evening in at home. ”
“Ollie found her a ticket for tonight,” Lillie said. “Isn’t it wonderful, Mother?” She swept around Aunt Clove, beaming. She looked even more beautiful when she beamed. “I of course lent her a dress and told her she could come with us in the carriage.”
“Wonderful,” Uncle Reginald said, and he winked at Grace behind Aunt Clove’s glower. He was dressed in tails and drinking a martini.
Grace squeezed between Oliver and Lillie, poring over the opening day’s program as the carriage wove through the crowded streets.
She traced the labyrinth of canals that fed into the Grand Basin, the various palaces, the colonnade of states and nations, the train lines, the stretch of Pike that was dotted with restaurants and rides.
The air was scented with fire, sugar, and smoke, and an evening parade appeared to be ending, with the First Missouri Infantry taking care to control the crowds.
Lillie squeezed Grace’s hand. She wore a slate gray dress, the stormy color of the sea. It had cream tulle pulling it off her shoulders and pink roses sewn in bunches along the hem, all tied together with her satin cream gloves.
“I’m told that President Roosevelt is here for the Opening Ceremonies,” Aunt Clove remarked. She craned her neck to look out the window, something that gave Grace great pleasure. She had never seen her aunt crane at anything before.
“And tonight’s event is in a special area set apart from the riffraff,” her aunt continued, watching a woman dressed in an enormous floral hat and carrying what appeared to be a peacock under one arm. “Thank God,” she muttered.
Oliver poked Grace in the ribs, daring her to laugh.
She dug her nail into Oliver’s hand, and he bit back a yelp.
“We’ll enter tonight’s dinner by gondola,” Aunt Clove said. Her hat had feathers on it that threatened to tickle Uncle Reginald, who gently batted them away. “We’re expected to meet the Haddings there.”
“Oh, look!” Lillie said, examining the program. “A performance with Harriet Forbes! We loved her in A Doll’s House!”
Oliver stilled beside her, and Grace was studiously careful to avoid his eyes.
“Oh, Lillie, of all the things to be excited about. An actress,” Aunt Clove said, as though it were something contagious.
Grace was the only one in the family who knew Oliver had been secretly courting Harriet Forbes for the last four months.
She swallowed. The three of them—Oliver, Lillie, and Grace—each had secrets, she knew.
Confidences that Lillie and Oliver had given to her but were keeping from each other, and she suddenly felt all of the secrets she was holding pressing against her ribs.
She would never use the things she knew against her beloved cousins—no, they were closer than brother and sister to her, and sometimes she felt like the glue that held them together.
She was never happier than when she was between them, Oliver handsome in his silk topper with his cut jaw and boyish smile, and Lillie stunning in her Doucet gown and lilac spray earrings.
They lived in a glittering world where they loved everyone and were beloved in return, and sometimes Grace felt like she actually belonged. They shared the same ancestors and lent her power where she had none.
Meanwhile, the darker part of her whispered that secrets were likely the only form of power she’d ever have.
The Missouri Infantry kept the streaming crowds at bay along the tree-lined cobblestone road long enough for them to disembark at the entry gate. Their tickets were examined, and just before they entered the fairgrounds for the first time, Grace’s aunt pulled her aside.
“Grace,” she said, with barely veiled fury. “You’re far from a child anymore.” She leaned forward, her words pressed to Grace’s throat like a knife. “This is the last time your presence will be permitted to taint my children’s company.”
Grace turned to hide the slight from her cousins, as she always did.
“Thank you for your gracious welcome, as always, Aunt Clove,” she said bitingly.
Her aunt blanched at the menacing undertone that for the first time ever, Grace had allowed into her voice. Usually, she held it behind the dams along with all of the other burning things she thought but could not say.
But this was her last week with her cousins.
It had already been decided, even before her aunt said anything.
She had returned from that party in Chicago knowing that she couldn’t make herself fit.
It was time to go back to Kansas City and make a life there.
One that Lillie and Oliver couldn’t fit into either.
They had outgrown one another, and they couldn’t pretend otherwise anymore.
She would tell them at some point that this week was the end.
And though the thought nearly broke her, she couldn’t ask for a more memorable way to tell them goodbye.
The poster of the woman in the tangerine dress gestured them forward, into the Ivory City.
A spray of golden fireworks exploded above their heads, falling toward the cupola of the Palace of Electricity.
Lillie grabbed Grace’s hand and squealed, pulling her inside.
The World’s Fair was beginning.
Grace had observed the Ivory City being built from afar, watching the construction from one of the ten bedrooms on the second floor of the Carter mansion.
She’d seen the carved ivory columns, the soaring domes of the Palaces, the strips of manicured grass flanking the pavilions and stone bridges reminiscent of Venetian canals.
She’d watched the rising silhouette of the enormous Ferris wheel that had claimed the lives of twelve men during its construction.
But nothing had prepared her for being within the city herself.
Paved walkways bordered the lush emerald grass of the music pavilion, sculpted by viburnum bushes that burst with fragrant white blossoms as big as snowballs. Flags representing more than thirty countries unfurled to welcome them in a colorful promenade along the great entrance.
“I can’t believe it,” Lillie breathed. The breeze ruffled the curled ends of her hair.
A sparkling pond named the Grand Basin lay at the end of the pavilion, spattered with boats, gondolas, and arcing fountains.
And beyond it rose Festival Hall, an immense, round dome that was set up on the hill like an elaborately decorated wedding cake.
It was the most stunning building Grace had ever seen, intricately carved and lined with stately columns.
Water poured out from a fountain set at its front like an open mouth, cascading into stacked levels of fourteen waterfalls.
Grand sets of wide, magnificent steps rimmed either side of these flowing cascades like an embrace, and fountains gracefully arced into the Grand Basin while being lit from below.
Even Aunt Clove, for once, seemed unable to find fault.
Laughter and accented voices drenched the air as tens of thousands of people crowded by in their hats and finery.
Concession tents sold puffed rice, crystal clear water, and scoops of vanilla ice cream in fluted glass dishes.
As they passed the sunken gardens, electric lamps began switching on in their posts, and the night air became perfumed with sugar and roasted nuts, honeysuckle, and primrose blossoms. They strolled alongside bursts of pink and yellow spring tulips, smelling fragrant hyacinth, redbuds, and lilacs.
Elation was something Grace could almost taste in the air.
She couldn’t believe she was there, alive in this moment, in a place so immersive and magnificent.
She didn’t know how she would ever return to real life.
“My darling, my dearest, my delight,” Oliver said to Grace just before they passed a hundred-foot column honoring the Louisiana Purchase at the head of the Basin. He linked elbows with her, every bit the dapper gentleman, tipping his top hat at every acquaintance they passed.
“I know that tone,” she said drolly. Over the years, they’d grown quite proficient at holding private conversations and sharing morsels of secrets while they casually walked just out of earshot of his parents. “What do you want?”
Oliver shot a nervous glance in Lillie’s direction to make sure she wasn’t listening. “Just a small favor,” he said.
“And here I thought you’d brought me along, once again, for my scintillating company and sparkling conversation,” she said.
“I always bring you along for that,” he said. “And for your loyalty, benevolence, and discretion.”
His eyes searched hers, pleading.
“Just tell me what it is,” she said, cutting him a look. “You already know I’m going to say yes.”
“In a few minutes we’ll enter the Under and Over the Sea attraction,” he said. “Gondolas will take us through a winding maze of canals before dropping us off at the private dinner. And I’m wondering if you’ll share a boat with me.”
“Of course,” she said. “I thought you were going to ask me something hard.”
“Well…” He gave her a slightly devious grin. “I’m hoping you’ll be willing to swap boats with Harriet in the middle.”
“Ah. I see,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Then whom will I be sitting with? Will I be engaging in hand-to-hand combat with some notorious axe murderer on the way to dinner?”
“No, although if you were, I do hope you know my money would entirely be on you.”
“No need for flattery, Oliver, I’ve already said yes.”
“The only other person who knows about my feelings for Harriet is my closest friend, and he’s already agreed to help. So no pressure,” he said, batting his long eyelashes, “but ensuring my forever happiness is at this point all up to you.”
She relaxed. She knew Oliver’s best friend. A preppy, foppish young man named Evan Waxwell who rather inordinately loved croquet. Fine. It would be slightly painful, and perhaps scandalous if they were caught, but they could talk about mallets and wickets or whatever he wanted.
“Of course,” she said. She wanted to say, I would do anything for you. Especially this week—the last time she could help him, even though he didn’t know it yet. Instead she said, “If your mother finds out, she’s going to throw me out of the boat and drown me in the lagoon.”
“Don’t be silly. She has standards,” Oliver said. “That’s a Paul Poiret she’s wearing.”
Grace snorted.
She followed Oliver into the immense opening of the Under and Over the Sea ride, where they were ushered in by guards who unlatched a red velvet rope for them.
The building had intricately sculpted towers that rose almost two hundred feet above their heads.
Inside was a soaring foyer, its heavenly ceiling scattered with delicately painted domes.
It was quiet and cool after the vibrant crush of humanity in the fairgrounds.
Inside, waiters offered them drinks that looked like small vases made of frosted glass and topped with violets.
Grace drank hers from a striped straw. It tasted like nothing she’d ever had before, sparkling and floral.
“To us!” Lillie said, toasting Grace and Oliver. As soon as they’d raised their glasses, Lillie’s eyes fell on someone in the crowd.
“Frannie!” she cried. She moved forward to give Frannie a kiss on the cheek and then pulled her back toward them. “You know Ollie, of course. And this is my beloved cousin, Grace,” Lillie said. “Grace, this is Frannie Allred.”
Frannie was dressed in a forest-green dress that set off her small waist and dark red hair. She gave Grace a smile that never reached her eyes.
“Oh yes, we’ve met,” she said, as if they were old friends. “How do you do, Grace?”
Grace smiled wanly.
“We must ride together on the gondola,” Frannie said, taking Lillie’s arm and turning her away. “I have so much to tell you.”
“I can’t wait! And Grace must come, too.”
“Oh, there’s only room for two,” Frannie said, her voice somehow both syrupy and sad.
Lillie frowned. “Well—”
“I’ll ride with Grace,” Oliver quickly volunteered.
“Yes. It’s fine. I’ll go with Oliver,” Grace said. She gave Lillie an encouraging nod. Then she returned Frannie’s disingenuous smile with a dazzling one of her own.
They were shown to a wide marble staircase leading down into a darkened pavilion, which was cavernous and lit inside to look like the night sky. Boats with gondoliers were lined up, lilting on the dark waves.
They waited with a handful of other guests in their finery while Aunt Clove and Uncle Reginald climbed into the first boat.
Then Lillie shot Grace an apologetic look and climbed into the second boat with Frannie.
“This is a clever little trick,” Grace said to Oliver as he helped her into the third.
They pushed off from the pavilion and began to glide across the inky waves.
A lantern hung from the back of their boat.
The starry lights reflected in the dark, swirling tidepools left by the stroke of the oar.
From somewhere in the distance, she could hear the deep pounding of drums. They echoed her own heartbeat.
Oliver spoke quietly to the gondolier, who gently pulled over beneath the first bridge in the underground lagoon, where another boat was waiting in the shadows.
“Thanks, mate,” Oliver said, handing him a hefty wad of bills.
“Hi, Harriet,” Grace said, looking into the shadows beneath the bridge. She smiled with genuine delight as Harriet stepped into the boat.
“Thanks for this, Grace,” Harriet said.
“My pleasure. I’m forever in service to clandestine young love,” Grace said. Oliver helped her balance as she prepared to board the second boat.
She looked at the gondolier as she stepped across, beginning to greet her partner in crime, Evan. He reached up to steady her and keep her from falling.
But it wasn’t Evan who was taking her by the hand.
No, Grace thought, freezing. No, no, no.
It was Theodore Parker.