“Who?” He tried to hide his embarrassment at not recognizing the name, since she obviously thought he should.
“You know, the star of The Bohemian Girl.”
“A moving picture?” Aunt Louisa’s frown displayed her disapproval.
“Of course.” Selene’s attitude made Booth feel like a dunce. He wondered how Hestia felt.
“I’m not permitted to view moving pictures, and my guess is that Booth doesn’t frequent them, either.” Hestia looked to Booth for confirmation.
Booth was glad Hestia didn’t mind speaking up to her cousin. A protest from him would have seemed rude. “Hestia’s right.”
“Then you are missing exciting stories.” Selene clasped her hands as though thinking of dreamy plots. “This one is about a nobleman’s daughter who is kidnapped by pirates.”
Hestia visualized her father wagging his finger at her, lecturing how motion pictures corrupted the youth of America. Judging from the poster displayed at Maiden’s theater for Blood and Sand, she could see why he came to that conclusion. “I doubt my papa approves of either pirates or kidnappers.”
“I can vouch for that.” Aunt Louisa’s tone indicated her agreement.
At the risk of incurring Selene’s poor opinion of him, Booth decided to side with Hestia. “My parents prefer that I not see moving pictures, either, Miss Selene.”
“Do you listen to everything your parents tell you? Maybe you are still a little boy after all,” Selene’s voice caressed the insult as she placed her hand on her slim hip. He noticed that her cream-colored dress looked to be sewn from an expensive shiny material, the type the girls he knew saved for evening wear rather than Sunday morning.
He cleared his throat. “My parents wouldn’t stop me if I wanted to go. But out of respect for them, I choose not to attend moving pictures.”
Selene’s stricken expression told him she didn’t understand such a posture. He couldn’t help but wonder about her home life. Maybe she didn’t have parents at all. Her quick recovery amazed him. “What’s with this ‘Miss Selene’ baloney? I’m just plain old Selene. Only our aged aunt needs such a title.”
“Excuse me, but I’m right here.” Aunt Louisa’s voice sounded sharp even as she jested.
Selene took her hand off her hip and crossed her arms. The teasing look disappeared, replaced with a wide-eyed schoolgirl expression. Booth had the feeling she’d become so caught up in her banter she’d forgotten about their audience. Perhaps such single-mindedness—letting people think the rest of the world evaporated as she flirted—was part of the charm she showed to her New York friends. He could see why such coyness could work.
Selene turned to her aunt and spoke in an entirely different tone. “I meant no harm, Auntie. You know how I often speak before thinking.”
“Often, indeed. Come here.” Miss Louisa surveyed her young niece. “Look at me.”
Selene stared at the floor before she obeyed with reticence.
Miss Louisa took Selene’s chin in her fingers and looked straight at her. “What is that on your face?”
Selene’s hand went up to her cheek. “Oh, just a little help from Paris.” Speaking in a rush, she looked at Hestia. “You’ll have to let me show you how to apply this rouge. You could use a little color.”
“You’ll show her no such thing,” Miss Louisa declared. “I have already told you I forbid such display. I am ashamed of you for being so disobedient. What would your father say?”
“He doesn’t mind if I wear a little paint. All us girls in New York wear it. At least those in my set. But what do you care today? I’m not going to church. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“I may be stuck in this bed, but that doesn’t mean I’ll abide misbehavior. I can put you right on the first train out of here, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am. But can’t you please reconsider? At least let me wear enough color to keep from looking as though I fell into a flour barrel.”
“You don’t look that pale.” Miss Louisa shook her forefinger at her wayward niece. “I told you that while you are a guest in my home, you are not to paint your face, and that’s my final word.”
“We can wait for Selene to remove her paint,” Booth offered, noting that according to the small clock on Miss Louisa’s night table, church wouldn’t commence for a half hour.
“No,” Miss Louisa answered Booth, “she won’t be going to church with you today.”
Considering how much church meant to his neighbor, such an edict shocked him. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask,” Booth ventured, making sure to keep his tone respectful, “but are you punishing her for wearing face paint?” If that was Miss Louisa’s idea, he disagreed. Church would be the ideal place for Selene.
“No, and of course I would never consider such a thing,” Miss Louisa told him. “Face paint or not, she won’t be going today or any day. In fact, Booth, Selene needs her rest. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention her presence in this house to anyone.”
Booth didn’t understand such secrecy, but he had no choice other than to comply. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t say a word.”
Chapter Six
Moments later, Selene watched out of Aunt Louisa’s bedroom window and listened as the sound of the Model T’s motor grew from loud to distant. Booth and Hestia had left before she could make an impact on Booth. But what did she care? Who wanted to stay in such a small town anyway, when there was so much excitement to be found in New York?
Curiosity—and hopes of distracting her aunt from the lecture sure to follow—spurred her to nosiness. “Auntie dear, I thought Booth had a good job at the mill.”
“He does have a good job. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Oh, the men I know back home buy a better motorcar than a Model T once they move up a peg or two on the ladder, that’s all.”
“If by ‘better’ you mean ‘more expensive,’ then that’s just a waste of money, in my book. Maybe you need to put on airs in New York, but we don’t take to that kind of thing here in Maiden.” Aunt Louisa lifted her shoulder in pride. “And speaking of airs, why did you disobey me by wearing face paint?”
She didn’t want to admit she wished for Booth to see her at her best, so she went for the second kernel of truth. “I’m so used to seeing myself wearing rouge and lip color that I think I look funny without it.”
“Then you should look in the mirror again. You look funnier with it, if you ask me. Like a clown. Now consider Hestia.”
Hestia. The angelic, pure-as-the-driven-snow Mrs. Grundy. Selene held back a grimace.
“Hestia is beautiful without a trace of face paint. You should follow her example.”
“Shouldn’t everyone, oh dear aunt of mine?” Selene bit out before remembering that her aunt wouldn’t appreciate sarcasm.
“Yes, any woman would do well to be like your cousin Hestia,” Aunt Louisa answered, as though Selene had posed a serious question. “Now, let me get something straight with you. If I see you with face paint one more time, I’ll have Hestia find out where you’ve got it hidden, and I’ll order her to burn it all up in the stove. You hear me, girl?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sarcasm evaporated, she resolved to hide her paint so well that not even Hestia could find it.
“Your father was too preoccupied with himself and too lenient with you. He always was on the self-centered side, and that’s one reason you’re in the fix you’re in now. I know your situation is not entirely your fault, which is why I agreed to take you. But while you’re here, you’ll find that I will not be lenient.”
Selene felt a cloak of darkness fall over her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now I suggest you retire to your room and rest. And before you fall asleep, think about why you should not be so disobedient.”
“Yes, ma’am.” For once, she didn’t mind obeying her aunt. She was in no mood to spend time in her company and looked forward to being alone.
“Maybe you can do some Bible reading while you’re at it,” A
unt Louisa suggested as Selene shut the door.
The thought of reading her Bible made her even more vexed. She was already depressed and didn’t want to read a book with even more rules telling her she couldn’t have any fun.
She sat at the vanity and gazed at her reflection, trying to fix her memory upon her current appearance. Once she used cold cream to remove her beautiful paint, she couldn’t apply it again without fear of reprimand or worse. She missed New York and her dear father already. So what if Father’s absences meant that she was alone with the maid and butler most of the time? Father loved her. That much she knew.
With a slow turn of her wrist, she opened the blue jar, a ritual normally reserved for the end of a long evening. Under other circumstances, the sweet smell of cold cream brought happy memories of a fun night filled with flirting and dancing. But not today. She dipped her cloth into the jar and rubbed her cheek. She wished she didn’t have to stay in this wretched town, where the only boy she saw swooned over her cousin. Well, Hestia was a plain Jane compared to her, and Selene could see that Booth regarded her with interest as she acted the coquette. Maybe he wasn’t immune to her charms after all. If she could convince him to seriously look her way before her secret got out, then she might stand a chance of some male companionship while she was still in Maiden. Otherwise, all she had to look forward to was a self-righteous aunt and an out-of-date cousin who seemed older than her years.
I can’t bear it. I just can’t.
She rubbed her face with the cream-covered facial cloth until the rouge surrendered, dissolving into a stain on the cotton. Peering into the mirror, she saw a pale face with short blond hair and brown roots growing longer each day. She needed a haircut if she planned to maintain her beautiful bob. Maybe Hestia would cut it for her since Aunt Louisa wouldn’t let her out of the house even for basic beauty maintenance.
Selene pouted at her reflection, but the expression wasn’t cute when her lips weren’t painted into an adorable Cupid’s bow. Who stared back at her from the mirror? She didn’t like this girl. Who’d want to be friends with such a frump? At least now she had her blond hair, but since Aunt Louisa demanded that she grow it out, she’d look like a sow sure enough. She wrinkled her nose.
Her thoughts went back to Ned and how he had said he loved her. In stolen moments, his arms wrapped around her had made her feel worshipped. But as soon as she informed him she wanted—in fact, needed—to marry, he’d run off faster than a rat deserting a sinking ship.
“And that’s what I am, too. A sinking ship.” Unwanted tears rolled down her cheeks. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about them smearing any rouge.
“You all right in there?” Aunt Louisa called.
“I’m fine, Auntie.”
“You got that face paint off?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Selene dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. No amount of effort restored her face, now a blotched red.
“Come in here and let me see you.”
“Don’t you trust me?” she called back.
“No, I don’t.”
Selene wanted to return the answer with a retort but thought better of it. She supposed that in her aunt’s eyes, Selene had betrayed her, so any trust they might have had between one another had evaporated. And she didn’t want to wait for her aunt to demand that Hestia inspect her.
Soon she proved by mere appearance before her aunt that she had wiped her face clean.
Aunt Louisa regarded Selene. “Good. You look much better now. Like a sweet, wholesome girl a man would actually want to take as a wife.”
Selene wasn’t sure enough to answer.
“So did that bromide I told Hestia to give you earlier work for your stomach?”
Selene hadn’t thought about her queasiness of late and realized she was feeling better. “Yes, ma’am.”
Aunt Louisa squinted. “You been crying?”
Not wanting to admit it, she didn’t answer but looked instead at her kid-leather slippers.
“Come here.”
With slow steps, Selene obeyed.
To her surprise, Aunt Louisa took Selene’s hand. “Now, now, you needn’t cry. As soon as the baby comes, you can go back to New York and no one will ever know.” She squeezed her hand and then let go.
“Really?” Selene wasn’t so sure. Her friends were wise to the ways of the world. She remembered how her friend Babs went to visit a distant relative last winter, right after she and her beau had broken off their secret engagement. Babs had come back sadder, not as willing to go out on the town and be as carefree as she once had been.
Hestia would never have to worry about any such disgrace. Sure, her fiancé had been a lout, but that wasn’t the same. Not by a long shot. She never thought she’d see the day she’d envy her old-fashioned cousin, but jealousy filled her being at that moment. If only she could change places with Hestia. She looked so out-of-date and conservative, but she had one thing Selene didn’t—the attention of a suitor, any suitor. She never thought she’d consider Booth Barrington a desirable suitor, he of the churchgoing ways and prudent demeanor. Sure, Selene believed in God and had accepted Jesus as her personal Savior one day long ago, back when she was a little girl. Before she lost her mother. She felt a tear threaten and sniffed it back.
Her thoughts wandered to Booth. Today when he had arrived to take Hestia to church, he looked good. Very good.
Lord, forgive me.
“I’m tired.” Apparently Aunt Louisa had spent her quotient of sympathy for Selene. “I’m taking a nap, Selene, and so should you. I’ll see you after Booth and Hestia get back from church.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Selene departed to her room and sat on the bed hugging herself. Why did she ask the Lord for anything? Ever since Mother died, He’d never been a friend of hers. If He had, He would have kept her from making such a mess of her life.
After sleeping a couple of hours, Selene had managed to recover by the time Booth dropped off Hestia after services. Eager for company, Selene slid out of the house and waited for them on the veranda’s swing, gliding back and forth. Booth had parked the Model T at his house and walked Hestia next door. Selene thought the unnecessary gesture was a way for them to spend a few more minutes together. She wished someone cared that much about her.
She swallowed when she realized how handsome they looked as they strode together up the walk. Hestia wore a warning expression. Selene wanted to be sure Hestia didn’t have time to scold her for being outside, so she didn’t wait to begin questioning the couple once they reached the veranda.
“I’m sorry we got off on a bad footing today, what with Aunt Louisa lecturing me about face paint,” she apologized to Booth in her sweetest voice. “Won’t you sit a spell?” She patted the empty seat beside her.
“I don’t have a lot of time before dinner, but I guess I can stay a few minutes.”
Selene smiled, though she tried to conceal her disappointment about the fact that he took a wicker rocker rather than the seat beside her. She consoled herself by the thought that she could see him better from this vantage point. She expected Hestia to go inside to prepare their meal but had no such luck. She lingered as though she needed to watch Booth. “So how was the service?”
Booth was quick to answer. “We had a good sermon today. All about how we should be careful about the company we keep, because people are looking at us as examples of Christ.”
“Oh.” Selene was glad she’d been absent. If the other old people in town were anything like her aunt and Miss Olive, she imagined the pastor pointing at her blond bob and calling her a harlot on the spot. “I don’t think people should be so judgmental. A person can make a mistake, you know.”
Booth seemed taken aback. “Sure. We all make mistakes.”
She imagined his mistakes might have involved minor practical jokes or misspoken words. He was too much of a gentleman to leave a distressed woman all alone. She put thoughts of Ned out of her mind. “Father wanted me to bring Aunt Louisa a few a
pples from New York. I think I managed to get them here without too much damage. So I’d like to make an apple pie for you. I’ll have a slice ready for you tomorrow afternoon when you stop by. Does that sound copacetic?”
“Yes, it does. How did you know that apple pie is one of my favorite desserts? Funny, I hadn’t imagined you to be the domestic type.” He glanced at Hestia.
Following his lead, Selene looked at her cousin and noticed her lips had tightened. At that moment, Hestia reminded her of Aunt Louisa.
“Didn’t you say Selene’s family has a cook, Hestia?” Booth asked.
“Of course we do, cousin dear,” Selene hastened to answer, looking back at Booth. “But I don’t mind cooking sometimes.”
“I’d think with you as exhausted as you are, you wouldn’t want to cook,” Hestia told Selene.
“I’m not that tired.” Selene bored her gaze into Booth. “Don’t pay any attention to Hestia. She’s all wet.”
Departing from the women a few moments later, Booth noticed that Hestia avoided making eye contact with anyone and hadn’t said a word lately. What was eating her? He didn’t dare hope she was upset to be leaving Maiden—and him. But Dr. Lattimore was scheduled to make a house call to Miss Louisa on Tuesday. Then he’d release his patient from bed if all went well. Booth almost wished the doctor would insist she stay in bed another month. Just as quickly, he put such a selfish thought out of his mind. He knew from the start that Hestia planned to leave. If only he had saved himself from disappointment by telling his heart.
He walked toward his house thinking about the two women. Hestia was the perfect companion at church, with her natural beauty and quick wit. She knew her Bible, as evidenced by the well-informed talks she’d had with him. Every once in a while, when they thought he wasn’t looking, he’d caught some of the bachelors in the congregation eyeing her. Surely they were envious that he’d seen Hestia before they had. Of course, it was much too soon for him to ask to be a serious suitor for Hestia, but the thought had crossed his mind.
Love Finds You in Maiden, North Carolina Page 7