Chapter 27 #2
“I’ve been largely doing restoration work since Father died. I’ve left you to manage the shop as best you could, while I tried
to make it profitable. I’ve been so concerned that you two would have a comfortable future that I have neglected your present.”
They both began to protest.
“And mine.” She clasped both hands in her lap. “You should be out enjoying life with people your own ages. Not stuck behind the counter of a musty old shop while life passes you by.” She held up one finger, delaying their reaction.
“I am closing down the restoration business. Mr. Kirsch will buy the rare-books stock. I will be closing up that branch of
the store completely. What we do about the rest of the shop, we’ll have to decide together.
“I’ve been offered my old position at the Met. I’d like to take it . . . while my eyesight lasts.”
“Then . . . then you should,” Daphne said bravely. She looked to Celia for confirmation. Celia blinked and quickly nodded.
“You should never have left. We could have managed.”
“I know, my dears, you are bright, industrious young women, but you need your own lives. We’ve been living for the past, for
what was expected. I won’t be deserting you. My salary will be adequate to support us if we continue to live here. And if
we live frugally.”
Celia’s hopes plummeted.
“But this is really about what you two want.”
Neither said a word.
“Daphne? You can spend more time with your friends, meeting new people.
“Celia? You can do more work for women’s health.
“You’ll both have to work or marry at some point, because I don’t know how long I’ll be able to work. I hope I haven’t let
you down.”
“No!” they both exclaimed.
“I don’t mind the bookshop,” Daphne said.
Celia looked down at her hands as her chances of college fled. “Sure. Me either.”
Olivia leaned forward, caught Celia’s downcast eyes with her own.
“Celia, I hear resignation where I should hear resolve. I know you have dreams, just like I did, and I still do. But we’ve all been so determined to do our duty, whatever we thought it was, not to let the others down, that we haven’t been honest with each other, or ourselves.
We’ve been living for the past. It’s time to look forward. All three of us.”
But could they really? Celia wondered.
“Celia?” Olivia prodded. “What were those classes written on the vitamin page?”
Celia couldn’t answer. She was grateful to her sisters, to the shop; it had started her off on the path to Margaret Sanger.
But she did want more. Maybe she was being selfish, but there it was. “I want to go to college. Not just a few classes, but
for real. I want to be a sociologist.”
Daphne stared; Olivia’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, I had no idea.”
“Just down at NYU. Mrs. Renfroe at the settlement house has connections. She thinks she can get me a grant to study. She gave
me names of professors to speak to.
“I can help out at the shop on weekends and nights, if you need me. But I want to make more of a difference than just sneaking
around printing other people’s information. We need to organize to have any influence, to make any real changes in the way
people live. I need tools that I can’t get from reading used textbooks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Olivia. “If there was ever a time for honesty, it’s now. I’ve learned that the hard way. But it isn’t
fair for both of us to expect Daphne to run the store by herself. I know you have other hopes for the future, Daphne, so now
is the time to say you don’t want the responsibility.”
“Well, actually, Yannis and I have been talking. Did you know he’s writing a novel?”
Celia closed her eyes so she wouldn’t roll them. Olivia merely said, “Indeed?”
“I’d like to run the shop but not just as a used-book store. A place that people—women, nannies, and shopgirls—would feel
comfortable visiting and, well, make it more modern, offer note cards and stationery. Mrs. Teller can design those, but she
might also be interested in helping out in the shop. Mr. Teller thinks it will be a good way for her to meet more people.
And she likes romance novels, too.”
Olivia and Celia both rolled their eyes.
“If you think I could do it.”
“Of course we do,” Olivia said. “And if you need help, we’ll still be upstairs—for a while, anyway. And you can ask, plus
you have a whole row of booksellers who will be glad to see you succeed.”
“Absolutely,” Celia agreed. As far as she was concerned, Daphne could sell all the happy endings she wanted. Celia would even
help on weekends and evenings.
It was two days before they saw Max Lienhardt or Joshua Starling again. They came into the shop together, midmorning.
Celia went to meet them. Joshua tipped his hat in greeting, but Max just looked at the ceiling, as if he could communicate
with the third floor by thought.
“I see things have gotten back to normal,” Joshua said. He looked more dapper than usual, and Celia knew with a little pang
of disappointment that he was leaving.
“We’ve come for the instigator of all these machinations.”
“Me?” Celia asked.
Joshua laughed. “Not this time. Could you ring upstairs and say we’re here to pick up the papyri?”
Daphne hurried over to the telephone.
“You don’t have an escort,” Celia said. “Should I see if Officer O’Halloran or Officer Sullivan is about?”
“No need. I brought my bodyguard.” Joshua flicked his thumb toward Max.
“Funny,” said Max, not bothering to look their way. “I could have broken my hand. Do you know how far that would have set
back my work?”
Joshua smiled at Celia. “We have a car waiting.”
“Oh.” Of course he would.
They all went upstairs to witness the removal of the work of the most famous female poetess in the history of the world. It
was bittersweet, even though soon Max and Olivia would be at work on those same poetry fragments, together at the Met.
They all accompanied the poems downstairs and to the curb.
Joshua stopped by the door. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Celia.”
“I doubt that,” she said, and was hit with another little pang. She must not be good at goodbyes. “I guess we won’t be seeing
you again.”
“Oh, I’ll be back.”
Her heart flipped. “Not to arrest me.”
“Perish the thought.” The twinkle was back in his eye. “Just for the pleasure of your company.”