by Lori Zaremba
Still smiling, she stopped at a street vendor and purchased exotic tea leaves for herself and a half of pound of licorice for Connie. Thinking of Connie, she rooted through her purse for her cloche. Connie would worry about the attention her bright head of hair might draw on such a sunny day. It was kind of silly that men seemed to be mesmerized by the color. Some were even inclined to believe she may be loose with her favors because of the seductive hue. Not looking for any unwanted attention, she pulled the hat down over her brow and continued on her way. She stopped in Murphy’s Dry Goods for a bottle of Listerine at Connie’s request, as she used it to kill germs on everyone and everything.
She let out a long sigh. What would she do without Connie? She was the closest thing to a mother Vanessa had ever known. Vanessa’s birth mother, Violet, passed when she was only seven years old, and most of those seven years her mother had spent alone in her dark bedroom. Vanessa got to visit her once a year on her birthday, and those visits were even more peculiar, as the frail woman spoke nonsense about subjects of which Vanessa had no clue. The rumors had it that she was crazy and had damaged her brain on the many tonics and opium used to lessen her pain. No one knew what part of her was hurting. When Vanessa asked her father, his eyes filled with tears, and he told her not to speak of it.
Connie went out of her way to dote on Vanessa as a child, more so than her twin brother Theodore, as he had all the attention from his father. Theodore was educated at the most excellent boarding schools available in the United States before heading abroad once he was a teenager.
Vanessa attended a local girls’ charm school where she learned to read, write, and acquire manners and social skills. Connie taught her to speak fluent French, and tutors were hired to advance her education. Connie made sure Vanessa never fell behind, because as a creative child her head was sometimes way up in the clouds. When the twins turned eighteen, Theodore went off to attend college at Yale. Vanessa’s father Harold decided it was time for Vanessa to marry.
Harold had arranged for Vanessa to meet Carlson Holland. Her father deemed him an excellent suitor. Vanessa gave no complaints, as Carlson was the most handsome man she had ever known. His hair was golden and slicked back from his perfectly sculpted face. His eyes were the color of the cerulean blue sky, and he had a smile that could stop a train. Tall with a slim build, he wore clothes perfectly tailored to his physique.
Vanessa was sold even before he plied her with smooth compliments and lavish gifts.
Carlson’s family owned acres and acres of pine forest upstate and in Wisconsin, making them one of the largest lumber supply companies in the United States. Carlson probably never saw a tall pine in his life, but he was a genius at growing the bottom line.
When Carlson asked her to marry him sixteen months later, the young, love-struck Vanessa immediately said yes. Vanessa’s father announced that as an additional wedding present, he was going to gift the couple his mother’s home on the Chicago north side. He had built the house for her years earlier, but as her heart condition worsened, she only resided in the home for a year before she passed away. Both Vanessa and Carlson were pleased with the gift. They would have a lovely place to stay in the city when they were not enjoying the luxury of the family mansion.
Wedding plans began, food and flowers were ordered, and even cases of champagne secretly delivered, which was quite an accomplishment in the midst of Prohibition. Vanessa’s father was very well connected and obviously knew whose palm to grease.
Vanessa was at her final fitting for her wedding dress, designed and created by her best friend, Raul Dupree. Raul was an up-and-coming designer, having worked at one of the most famous fashion houses in Paris. He and Vanessa became fast friends when they met four years ago when he designed her dress for the Glacier Ball, and she helped him with his French lessons. Raul was five years her senior, but her maturity and his youthful exuberance shortened the age gap between them. She liked that she could speak with Raul about almost anything.
Raul looked up at her from the hem of her dress. “So, ma chérie, have you shared a kiss with your husband to be?”
“Raul! Why do you ask?”
“I’m curious, that’s why. Has Carlson kissed you?”
“Of course he has,” Vanessa lied with a blush. “We shared a very passionate kiss last night.”
Feeling insecure and a little sick to her stomach, Vanessa accepted the glass of wine Raul pressed into her palm. She had been wondering the same thing herself. Vanessa tried many times to kiss Carlson, but he would always give her a peck on her cheek. When she would press her body against his, he would pull away. He would smile and tell her to be patient.
Walking to the window, she choked down a sip, hoping it would steady her. Raul followed her and placed gentle hands on her shoulders.
“Do you think this marriage is a mistake, Raul?”
He wrapped her in his arms. “I don’t want you to be disappointed by what he cannot give you, sweetheart.”
Turning, she pulled away from him and looked up, bewildered. “What are you trying to say?”
“That I don’t want you to blame yourself.” He captured her hands in his.
“Raul? Blame…for what?” Agitated, she pulled her hands from his and placed them on her hips.
Raul shook his head and picked up his wine and tossed his head with a roguish flair. “I just always thought I would be the one to marry Carlson.”
“Ha! You’re jealous.” She relaxed and let out a small giggle.
Vanessa now grimaced at her stupidity and wondered how she could have been so oblivious. Not quite ready to go home yet, she dropped down onto a vacant bench in the park, lifting her face to the Chicago sky and letting the sunlight wash over her. Thinking about the blurred days that led up to her wedding, she pulled a box of Lucky Strikes from her bag and carefully lit the tip in the quick breeze. The ceremony, the reception, the toast, the cake, and the photos were a success. She had a beautiful photo album to prove it. The wedding night was, for lack of a better word, awkward. She drew in the essence of the cigarette and held the smoke in her mouth for a few moments before she let it, like her memories, drift out on the frigid lake air.
Vanessa realized that night hers would be un-mariage de convenance. She thought of all the novels she had read where the marriages were arranged, the husbands had mistresses, and the wives either took lovers or remained barren and alone. At first, she hoped Carlson had a fixable problem and a physician could help. Later, she realized he just had an extreme dislike of the female anatomy.
There would be no mistresses tucked away out of her sight—female, at least. The months that followed their wedding were spent in separate bedrooms, sometimes in entirely different locations. However, they maintained the public image of a loving and happy couple. Carlson made it easy, as he was so kind and gentle, and it was always a pleasure to spend time together.
Carlson’s family started pressing the issue of an heir. Wondering how in the hell they would perform that miracle, Vanessa was summoned to meet her husband in his downtown office. Carlson gently ordered her to find a fair-headed lover of good breeding and a tight lip to produce an heir. Carlson promised to love and care for the child as his own. Vanessa was shocked, hurt, and embarrassed. How could he ask her to do such a thing? She knew in her heart of hearts that Carlson could not give her what she needed. Vanessa knew it was neither of their faults that Carlson preferred men, but there had to be another way. Her husband wept on her shoulder that day. He wanted the very things every man wanted—a happy home and a family to love. Carlson did not have the capacity to achieve it in the usual way.
He confessed that he loved her like the little sister he never had, enjoying her wit and intelligence, as well as her beautiful heart. He would never hold her back from what made her happiest. She sat there in shocked silence, tears running untouched down her cheeks. Her initial shock was softening and then turning to curiosity.
For as long as she could remember, she had alw
ays dreamed of having children of her own, of being the mother hers never could be. Her mind worked overtime until she finally concluded she was going to have a baby.
She knew this mission would require careful planning and much discretion. She also realized it would involve coupling with a stranger to achieve the goal, and she almost fainted from the impropriety.
Then she thought the hell with it. Women had been mating with strangers since the beginning of time. She could do this deed. How hard could it be? All she needed to do was find a blond, blue-eyed stranger willing to mate with her.
She quickly enlisted the help of Raul to aid her in her search for the birth father.
“What?” was Raul’s response. “You want me to help you with what?”
After several hours of pleading her case, Vanessa was finally able to convince Raul to teach her the art of seduction and the best way to make a baby. During the weeks that followed, she learned how to saunter, flirt, and strike a pose. Then she learned how to pout, smile, and toss her head. Apparently, everything she did in the presence of male company up to this point was wrong. With the help of Raul, she became a temptress, a seductress, a siren.
For the first time in her young life, she began to know the power of being a woman. It was now time to find her prey. The duo decided they would accomplish the task in New York City, as it may be a bit difficult to pull off the plot amidst the savvy Chicago society. They mapped out their itinerary and made the necessary arrangements to implement their course of action.
Chapter 8
It was a crisp September morning when Vanessa, Raul, and Connie boarded the train to New York City.
They planned to stay over eight weeks in New York, if needed, as Vanessa also received baby-making advice from Madame Lola, a reproductive specialist and Vaudeville entertainer who had a dusty little office in the alley behind Maxwell Street. Working with Vanessa for the past couple of months, she concluded that Vanessa’s most fertile time of the month would be approximately two to four days after she arrived in New York, and then twenty-eight to thirty days later. Vanessa reckoned there would be no coupling on the first leg of her journey, as she and Connie would be staying with Vanessa’s cousin, Sheila, and her husband, Frederick Hoffman, in Manhattan. Then she would spend the remainder of her stay in a luxurious suite at the Biltmore for as long as it required to achieve her goal. Vanessa also rented a private room for Connie, while Raul would stay with a pal in the garment district. She hoped she would find the perfect man by the time of her next ovulation so she would be home before the first snowfall.
Vanessa did not confide in Connie the real reason she was making this journey. However, she sincerely doubted Connie had believed her story of wanting to visit Sheila and Frederick or their three obnoxious children. Connie had reluctantly agreed to make the journey, but she became more agreeable once she learned they would be going to the opera. Connie had a soft spot for the arts, as her sister, Camille, was a classically trained vocalist who had performed with the likes of the Metropolitan Opera before settling into family life in New Orleans.
The trio boarded the train at the La Salle Street Station and made themselves comfortable for the sixteen-hour uninterrupted trip on the new Streamlined 20th Century Limited from Chicago to New York.
They arrived at the Hoffman mansion the next afternoon. Vanessa was quite surprised by the luxury it offered. Her father had told her Frederick was a small-time businessman with a single dry goods store in Queens. She thought he must be mistaken, as Hoffman Supply Company, Inc. apparently was a much grander operation.
Sheila, her cousin, greeted them in the foyer after the butler let them in. Sheila was six years Vanessa’s senior, and the years had been kind to her. Pleasantly plump, her strawberry blonde curls played around the smooth milk and honey skin on her neck and décolletage. Her eyes were the color of warm cognac, and the plum-colored shift she wore emphasized her ample bosom and full hips. She pulled Vanessa into a warm embrace and reached out to pull Connie in as well.
“Connie, you old bird…I’ve missed you!” She placed her arm around Connie’s tiny shoulders and took Vanessa’s hand and led them through the foyer to a parlor off the hall. She turned to the butler. “Joseph, tell Mrs. Yates to bring tea, and take our guests’ luggage to their rooms, please.”
“Yes, madam,” he replied before exiting the room.
Vanessa took in her surroundings, making a mental note that she would like to decorate the parlor in her own home in a similar fashion. The room was done in pale green and cream. Sumptuous silk hung on the walls, and crystal twinkled and winked from the elaborate sconces on the wall and from table lamps illuminating the rich wood of the furniture. She liked that there were several gathering places where guests could speak intimately, sitting comfortably on chairs and settees done in cream damask. A large fireplace took up a good portion of an outer wall, and above it hung a painted portrait of the family. Vanessa walked over to admire the painting. “Your family is quite lovely, Sheila.”
She noted the children, twin boys of generous girth and a girl with a shiny head of red curls very much like Vanessa’s own.
“How old is your youngest now?” She turned and accepted a cup of tea Sheila had poured from the tray that Mrs. Yates had set on a small table in the corner.
“Violet is three this past July. The boys will be six this February.” She sighed, gazing lovingly up at the portrait. “The boys are with my in-laws in Philadelphia for the rest of the week, and I miss them so much.” Her face reddened as she spoke, but somehow Vanessa didn’t quite believe her.
“Boys can sure be a handful, I know,” Connie said before blowing gently on her hot tea. She and Vanessa exchanged a knowing glance, as between the two of them they tried to sum up the amount of trouble Theodore got himself into from the time he could walk.
“Where is that sweet child Violet?” Connie asked.
“Oh, she’s here. She is such an angel!” She beamed. “She’s down for her afternoon nap.” Sheila offered a plate of tea sandwiches. “You ladies must be famished. Please sit and eat.”
They did, or Sheila did, as she seemed to polish off a tray of cookies in addition to the various tea sandwiches she consumed. They chatted about events since they last saw each other, and when Connie’s eyes started to droop from the overnight journey, Sheila showed them to their rooms so they could rest.
“Freddie likes dinner at six p.m. sharp, so please join us in the dining room then.”
She ushered Connie into a lovely room with a four-poster bed and a great view of the park.
“It will be just the four of us for dinner this evening, but tomorrow evening I have put together a small gathering of some lovely people I would like to introduce you to. I hope you don’t mind?” Her eyes met with Vanessa’s.
“Of course not. It sounds wonderful.”
Sheila gathered her close. “I’m so glad you came. My friends will be so impressed with your beauty and grace.” With that, she nudged Vanessa into her room across the hall.
Vanessa, feeling weary herself, looked appreciably at the huge bed dressed in silk and lace that stood in the center of a very grand room. Promising Sheila she would get some rest, she stripped down to her pale pink camisole and cami-bloomers and slipped between the silk sheets. She felt she was drifting on a cloud and quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She awoke sometime later to a rustling. She opened her eyes to see Connie hanging her dresses in the wardrobe at the far end of the room. She stretched lazily.
“Good, you’re awake. I was going to draw a bath for you so we can wash your hair.”
Vanessa sat up eagerly. The one thing she could not stand was dirty hair, and she felt it needed a good cleaning after the journey from Chicago. She slipped out of bed and was delighted there was a bathtub hidden behind a silk screen that Connie was filling with sudsy water. Past the tub was a door to a water closet, and next to that was a full-length mirror. Vanessa caught her reflection and almost l
aughed out loud at the state of her wayward curls. She just about dove into the bath to submerge her head and enjoyed the perfumed warmth of the water.
While Vanessa soaked in the tub, Connie, with the help of a maid, lit a fire in the large fireplace that adorned the opposite wall. They would need the heat to dry Vanessa’s long, thick tresses.
While Vanessa sat in front of the cheerful flames, she asked Connie if she needed to go and get ready for dinner herself. That was when Connie informed her the Hoffmans were having additional guests for dinner, so that meant the companion would have to either eat dinner with the staff in the kitchen or have a tray brought to her room. As a woman of color, Vanessa knew Connie was quite used to this expectation.
Vanessa headed down the grand stairway at precisely five minutes to six. Just as she started to descend, the butler, Joseph, opened the door to allow two gentlemen to enter the foyer below. As the butler took their overcoats and bowlers, both men looked, appreciation evident in their stares.
Vanessa halted for a moment, remembering Raul’s instructions, standing a little straighter and curling her lips into a thoughtful smile. She continued her way down the long staircase. Enjoying the male attention, she knew she had chosen the right dress for dinner. Cream silk with a square-cut neckline and sleeveless, it showed off a good bit of her flawless skin. The waistline plunged to her narrow hips and wrapped around with a back-hip sash that featured an intricate bead design. The fabric then dropped to the angled hem below her left knee and near the floor on the other side. She wore matching cream beaded silk heels, and she accessorized the dress with layers of her favorite pearls that hung to her waist, a recent gift from Carlson. She styled her fiery tresses in a long braid over her shoulder and artfully added a headband that Raul had created from the same beading as the dress. The whole effect was very Grecian, she decided, and apparently very mesmerizing to the male species, as both men seemed to be rendered speechless.