Chapter Seven #2
“Surely you’ve seen the papers?” he said ruefully. “Bloody gossip Sam Whitcomb pretending to be a journalist.”
“We don’t have to speak of it, if it’s upsetting,” she said.
“I think it was a mechanical malfunction. Maybe a cracked cylinder in the engine caused oil to leak and ignite. Maybe the engine was overheated. But it’s possible it was sabotage. The police and my mechanic are looking into it. But with what’s left of the machine, I’m not sure we’ll ever know.”
At that moment, they both spotted Lillie.
She looked angelic, a vision in a silk and chiffon dress that glittered from shoulder to hem with iridescent beads.
It was a shade between golden pink and peach, with a hint of shoulder peeking through the sleeve and gathers of delicate silk flowers stitched into the bodice.
Grace felt the moment that Earnest noticed her cousin, and she should have known it was coming.
As Grace stepped forward, she smelled something dark, pungent, and earthy.
Something beautiful with a dangerous undertone. Something almost suffocating.
Aunt Clove stepped into her path, blocking her way. She wore a ball gown the color of green bottle glass with an elegant train and a furious look on her face.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Aunt Clove hissed.
“That’s no longer any of your concern,” Grace said. “As you made so very clear last night.”
Grace pushed past her.
“Would you be so good as to fetch me a drink, Mr. Allred?” she said to Earnest.
“What will it be?” Earnest said, though he seemed almost distracted. “The Dubonnet your cousin likes so well these days? A champagne?”
“A Dr Pepper, please,” she said.
She crooked her head at Oliver. Without a word, he led her out onto the dance floor, looking jovial. They fell into their old steps, just as they had done when she was ten years old.
“I’m glad you’re here, cousin,” he said.
“Me too,” she said. She glanced away. This was her moment alone with Oliver, apart from Harriet, and yet she was not at all looking forward to what she needed to say.
There was something off-kilter about tonight. The flickering of lights casting shadows, the fragrant white flowers floating in bowls. The dark glass floor was disorienting, a pit of darkness that could swallow them.
“You look like you ate something sour,” he said.
“That’s because I’m gathering my courage to say something unpleasant,” she said.
“Surely it can wait, then,” Oliver said, glancing over his shoulder. “It seems untoward to bring anything like that into such a beautiful evening.”
“I’m afraid not,” she said. She remembered the first time he dipped her, pretending to drop her, and how sorry he’d been when she’d grown teary. He had hugged her tight to his young, bony body. Reassured her that of course, he would never let her fall.
Now they waltzed around the black floor, the lights reflecting in it like stars floating atop a sea of ink.
“I saw Harriet this morning, when I was waiting for you,” she said. “She went into the Tunnels and met with someone.”
Oliver’s steps faltered just slightly. Anyone watching wouldn’t have even noticed before he slipped right back into the rhythm.
“You’re sure it was her?” he asked. His jaw tightened. “You might have been mistaken.”
“I’m certain. I followed her to be sure. I wouldn’t mention it otherwise.”
Oliver sighed heavily, his eyes looking heavenward. Then he scanned the ballroom, thinking.
“Did she… purchase anything?” he asked.
Grace gave a helpless shrug. “I couldn’t tell. All I saw was her speaking to someone.”
“So you have no real proof of anything?” he asked. His voice had a sharp undercurrent of hope.
She shook her head. It was all circumstantial, and yet none of it looked good.
“There’s something else—” she said, ignoring Aunt Clove’s glare.
She braced herself as Oliver spun her, determined to be out with all of it.
“The night of Earnest’s crash, when you went to the hospital with Lillie, I saw a man approach Harriet.
He seemed… angry about someone who owed him money, and she needed to pass along a message. ”
“Did you ask her about it?” he asked.
“I did. She claimed not to know him.”
Oliver dipped her. “Then perhaps we should take Harriet at her word,” he whispered in her ear.
Grace sighed as he righted her. Her head was beginning to pound a little. “You know that I, out of anyone, wishes it weren’t true,” she said, feeling a little dizzy. “I just wanted you to know. Whatever you decide, whatever you do, I’ll support you.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re my blood.”
He sighed. “I appreciate that you always tell me the truth. Even when I don’t want to hear it.”
Grace nodded. “What will you do now?”
“First I’m going to order a stiff drink, and then I’ll talk to Harriet tonight. Hopefully it’s all just a misunderstanding.”
“Yes,” Grace said faintly. “If anyone can get to the bottom of it, it’s you.”
He gave her a half smile as he walked away, and she wondered why the unburdening of truth had left her feeling worse than ever.
The room was filling with more guests and with it, the temperature was climbing.
Someone in uniform opened the oversized windows out onto the balcony, so that a blessed breeze came through.
And then a beautiful woman passed by Grace, dressed in a vibrant peacock blue.
At the last moment, Grace recognized her.
“Miss Adams,” she said, stopping her. “I saw you the other night at the Luchow-Faust. You charmed us with a beautiful performance.”
“Yes, I recognize you,” Ethel said, pausing. “You were sitting with Harriet Forbes, weren’t you? I’m Ethel.”
“I’m Grace.”
“I apologize in advance, but I can never hold on to names.”
“And I can’t carry a tune, so we can make up for one another’s faults.”
Ethel’s eyes moved toward someone in the corner, and Grace recognized the talent manager from the other night. The one Sam Whitcomb said had come to the World’s Fair to make someone a star.
The man took a slow sip of his drink, his sharp gaze raking the room. Ethel looked enamored, but Grace couldn’t help but feel there was something predatory about him.
“Will she be here tonight, then?” Ethel asked delicately. “Harriet?”
“I’m not sure,” Grace said. It was a question she wondered herself.
She hated to take Aunt Clove’s side in anything, and she hoped that Oliver was right—that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of it.
But part of her worried, as she saw Oliver fail to meet her eyes, that she would take the bullet for delivering the message and burn one of the last bridges she had with the Carter family.
The music died, and at that moment, Harriet appeared at the top of the stairs.
“There she is,” Grace said quietly. Ethel turned to look.
Aunt Clove’s eyes almost bugged out of her head as Harriet entered the ballroom. If Grace thought her Aunt Clove despised her, it was nothing compared to the way she looked at Harriet.
And she wasn’t the only one. It seemed that Harriet had inspired a range of reactions with her entrance.
Ethel’s smile tightened, like a piece of porcelain that was about to crack. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to Grace, and made her way a little more urgently toward the talent manager.
Copper had been in a lively conversation, listening to Frannie talk, but he too was distracted by Harriet’s entrance. Frannie saw the way his eyes took her in.
She flushed with a sudden anger. Then, with a flick of her fan, she abruptly stalked away.
Harriet looked radiant, Grace couldn’t deny it.
She was wearing a burgundy evening dress set off by white satin gloves.
Her hair was pulled into an intricate updo, and her ears glittered with chandelier earrings.
Theodore Parker went to greet her, and, whether it was for show or because he couldn’t help it, he looked truly happy to see her.
As repayment, Aunt Clove shot Grace a look as though she should not even think about approaching Lillie.
She whispered something in her husband’s ear, and he brought Lillie out on the dance floor, ensuring that Grace couldn’t speak to her.
But this was a battle Aunt Clove would not win. Talking to Lillie was the most important thing to Grace that night, because tomorrow she was going home.
“A Dr Pepper,” Earnest said, offering her the drink in an ornate crystal goblet.
As she took it from him, Grace spilled a few droplets on her glove and hurriedly blotted it with her handkerchief. She knew she’d think of this week whenever she saw the stain.
“Looks like you’ll be needing this back,” Earnest said. With a theatrical flourish he returned her handkerchief, freshly white, without a drop of blood on it.
“So clumsy,” she said, shaking her head at herself.
“Nonsense.”
Her heart fluttered a little as he took her by the waist and led her past towers of flickering candles and lush vines of white flowers draped over chairs. And yet she couldn’t help but notice the way Earnest stole another look at Lillie. Grace swallowed.
“I have an idea,” she said, trying to smile. “Why don’t you ask Lillie to dance? And since my aunt won’t let me get near her, could you possibly deliver a message for me?”
“It would be a pleasure,” he said enthusiastically. He gestured for Copper to take his place at Grace’s side, then made his way toward Lillie.
Grace could almost feel the heat of Frannie’s fury when Copper took Grace’s hand.
“Who’s that bloke with the camera over there?” Copper asked as they began a waltz.
Sam Whitcomb was turning the crank of a wooden cinematograph, filming the ballroom, much to the chagrin of the upper class. Aunt Clove looked disgusted.
“Oh. He publishes that gossip rag,” Grace said. “The Fair’s Fare.”
Copper’s eyes widened. “How vulgar. I’m surprised they let him in here.”
“You sound like my Aunt Clove.”