My fingers worried the ball of paper in my pocket as I felt how easily the force of his personality could bring me again to tears. To resist him, I summoned the strength of Shakespeare’s Portia. It was in this role that I faced him as dispassionately as I had once argued to spare a man’s life. “I’m afraid it’s impossible, Harrison. I can’t spend money we don’t have.”
He waved his arm around the office. “You’ve had no trouble spending freely at the stationery store, I see. Richard always made the production the priority, not redecorating the office. Besides, I’ve already placed the orders. The Playhouse is obliged to pay.”
I took a step back and bumped into Albert. I wanted to look at him to gauge his reaction, but I didn’t dare take my eyes away from Harrison. “You placed the orders, not me. There’s just not enough money. Unless you plan to pay them from your own pocket, you’ve got no choice but to cancel them. Now, the stagehands tell me if they add wheels to the bed they can move it more quickly. I’ll have the flowers replaced every Friday for the run of the play, but not for every performance. And while a fine lady might dress for dinner, if Jessica changes her costume the audience might get confused and think it’s another day, not the same evening.”
“So you’re a dramaturge now, too?”
“Perhaps you need one.”
Harrison looked as if he’d forgotten his lines. His forehead wrinkled in thought. “Helen.” He placed his hand heavily on my upper arm. “It’s admirable what you’re doing, truly it is. Allowing Richard this time to recuperate is a great service to us all. But I think you misunderstand your role. By taking his place, you should be guided by what he would have done. You know he always supported my artistic vision. He chose me to direct because he believes in my work. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.” His hand slid up to my shoulder as he tightened his grip. “But it’s only because I’m so passionate about my work, Helen.”
It was embarrassing to be manhandled like this in front of Albert. I considered acquiescing to Harrison’s demands just to bring the scene to a close, but then I felt Albert’s palm on the small of my back, a light touch that reminded me I wasn’t alone. In his gentle way, Albert gave me the strength I needed to shrug Harrison’s hand off my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. What good would it do you, or the Playhouse, to pass off bad checks?”
“But, Helen, we open in a week. If we don’t start rehearsing with the dog tonight there won’t be time to bring it into the show.”
“No dog, then. Perhaps your society lady prefers cats? I can get one of those off the street for free.”
“Helen, be serious.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, no dog. But Jessica can’t get into character without the evening dress.”
“You cast her, Harrison. If she can’t carry the part without it, you’ll have to buy the dress yourself.” Or look in your closet, I thought, certain some woman must have once left a perfectly good dress behind.
He sighed. I could see he was realizing he wouldn’t get his way and was becoming bored by our conversation. “Will you stay for rehearsals tonight at least?”
“Perhaps.” I turned to face Albert, his hand sliding around my waist. “Would you like to watch the rehearsal with me?”
“I’m sorry, Helen, I can’t tonight. I have that meeting with Mr. Stern from the orphanage.”
“Are you going to see the elusive plans at last?”
“Exactly.” Albert addressed his next remark more to Harrison than to me. “I’m free Friday night. I could watch the rehearsal with you then.”
“Good.” I turned back at Harrison. “Tomorrow night, okay?”
I’d never seen him so deflated. “Thanks, Helen. There are a few moments I just can’t seem to get right.” He looked at me as if finally seeing me clearly. “I’d appreciate your thoughts. You always had such good instincts.”
I couldn’t help being flattered by his compliment. “Of course. Tomorrow night, then. You’d better get cleaned up before the cast arrives.”
Harrison looked around as if getting his bearings. Without so much as a good-bye, he headed for the dressing rooms.
“So that’s the famous Joseph Harrison,” Albert said. “I’ve heard he was temperamental. You’re a brave woman to stand up to him like that. I don’t expect many do.”
“No, they don’t. I should know.” I was afraid for a moment I’d said too much, but Albert didn’t seem to notice.
“Next time you need a dog, I’ll ask the Colonel to lend you one of his Saint Bernards.”
I laughed at the notion. “I doubt that’s what Harrison had in mind for a society lady’s pet. Thanks for saying you’ll come tomorrow, Albert. Are you sure you don’t have other plans?”
“Maybe later on, but I couldn’t very well let you face him alone.” He checked his wristwatch. “I better get going or I’ll be late for Mr. Stern.”
“Give me a second, I’ll walk out with you.” I got my pocketbook and locked the office behind me. At the corner, I turned up my cheek for Albert’s kiss as we parted ways. I watched him walk toward Ninth Avenue to catch the El while I stayed to wait for the streetcar, the shape of his back already dear to me.
Chapter 16
Helen’s argument with Joseph Harrison kept me at the Playhouse longer than I intended, but I couldn’t very well leave her alone with the man. When I placed my hand on her back, I felt not only the strength of her spine but also the tremor of her nerves. It didn’t come naturally to her, it seemed, that show of strength, but I admired how well she pulled it off.
Hustling uptown from the Playhouse, I was sorry I’d let my attraction to Felix Stern sway me into agreeing to see the plans for the new orphanage. When we’d gone up to Westchester to visit the land where they intended to build it, Felix had draped his arm over my shoulder, and for a thrilling moment I thought he was making a pass. Instead, he’d waved his other hand like a conjurer. “Can’t you picture it, Mr. Kramer? All those children growing up in the fresh air, away from the city. I’ve dedicated myself to giving them that future.” I told him I couldn’t see anything without drawings. That’s when he said he’d bring them home to show me. I could have turned him down, but the Colonel was trusting me to evaluate the orphanage’s proposal and I wanted to be thorough. Unless they were much further along than the undeveloped land suggested, though, I doubted if, after tonight, I’d ever see Felix Stern again.
I arrived at his address, an imposing brownstone on the Upper West Side a block off Central Park. I thought at first it must be his family’s residence, but climbing the stoop I saw a neat row of five bells, each beside a tidy name card, and realized the brownstone had been converted into apartments. I rang and waited for the door catch to click, but Felix, who’d been lurking in the vestibule, swung it open.
“Mr. Kramer, there you are. I was worried you’d forgotten all about me. Please come in.” The brownstone was a beautiful home, the hallway richly trimmed in chestnut with glowing sconces along the papered walls. French doors opened into a large parlor that served as a common lounge for the tenants. A couple of men were relaxing on an old-fashioned settee, jackets open and drinks in hand, while a third was seated at an upright Steinway, playing a pretty tune. They waved at us and I hoped we’d join them, but Felix pulled me away. As he led me up a handsome staircase with a carved newel post and a plush runner, he explained there were two apartments on the second floor, two on the third, and one in the attic—all men.
“That’s my landlady’s rule as well. My rooming house isn’t nearly as nice as this, though.”
“Where’s that?” he asked.
“On Washington Square Park.”
“It’s too Bohemian down there for me.” Felix ushered me into his apartment. I found myself standing on a Persian carpet in a generous room with a pair of tall windows that shimmered in the sunset. A chandelier dangled from the high ceiling, and a gilt-framed mirror was mounted above the marble mantel. I remembered how impressed King had been a
t my shabby little lodging. What would he have said about this? I wondered. I turned my head to hide the blush that warmed my cheeks at the thought of him. Through a half-opened door I caught a glimpse of white tile.
“You have your own bathroom?”
“Don’t you?”
“No, I share one with the other rooms on my floor.”
“We each have our own, and there’s even a kitchenette.” He showed me an alcove overlooking the garden that had been outfitted with a sink and an icebox and a gas ring.
“I wouldn’t know how to cook for myself,” I said.
“Neither do I, unless warming up chop suey counts as cooking. I had to buy an electric percolator just to make coffee. I thought you might be hungry after work, though, so I brought some things in.” On a side table in the living room was a platter from the delicatessen: bread, smoked fish, pickles, and a dish of something that looked like liverwurst with hard-boiled eggs mixed into it. I asked him what it was. “Chopped chicken liver. Do you know it? It might be an acquired taste.” He handed me a plate. “Please, help yourself. I have a bottle of Knickerbocker in the icebox for you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t care for beer. Silly, isn’t it? The Colonel hasn’t seemed to notice yet. Do you have any wine?”
He smacked his palm to his forehead, hard enough to leave a fleeting mark. “I should have thought of wine. Give me a minute.”
I told him it didn’t matter, but he dashed out of the apartment. I chose a few pickles and some bread to go along with the chopped liver and sat on a Victorian sofa upholstered in velvet. The furnishings must have come with the place, I thought, balancing the plate on my knee.
Felix reappeared, panting, his fist wrapped around the neck of an open bottle of white wine, a gift from one of his neighbors. He found a glass and brought it to me, brimming. I sipped from the rim to keep it from spilling over. His eagerness to please would have been endearing if this were a date, but I figured he was just trying to impress me as Colonel Ruppert’s secretary. I swallowed the wine, which was pleasantly sweet, and nodded toward an easel set up across the room. “Are those the plans you were telling me about?”
“Yes, they are. It was stupid of me to drag you out to Westchester before you knew what we were planning. Let me show you.” There was a drape over the drawings and Felix fiddled with it nervously, like a child who has demanded that all the adults in a room pay attention to him and then gets shy under their collective scrutiny.
“Go ahead,” I prodded. With a theatrical flourish, he revealed the first drawing. It was a watercolor showing the empty field I had seen but now dotted with cottages, all identical and shaded by imaginary trees that would need decades to reach the height of the artist’s imagination. Felix explained that groups of children would live in the cottages, each staffed with a counselor and equipped with its own kitchen.
“It’s a very nice rendering.” I smeared a slice of pumpernickel with chopped liver. It was tasty, especially with a bite of pickle.
He showed the next drawing, another watercolor of the property but from a different angle, depicting a playground and a garden and even a baseball diamond. After he talked about the possibilities for outdoor exercise the new land would afford, I nodded and he showed a third drawing. Again a watercolor, though now closer to one of the cottages, showing children helping to hang laundry and shake out dusty rugs.
“Our aftercare program has been finding that the children who come out of the Home have a difficult time adjusting to life on a smaller scale. You remember the size of our kitchen, and those ovens? It wouldn’t be safe to let children in there. But the result is they grow up never having prepared a meal or washed their own clothes. As a boy, I loved sitting at the kitchen table while my mother baked. On Friday mornings, I’d help her braid the challah bread.” Felix looked wistfully at the rendering, as if he were watching the children go about their day. “There’s so much they miss, growing up without a family. In the cottages, they’ll have the chance to learn all these things.”
“They’re very nicely drawn, Mr. Stern. I’m able to picture it now, your vision for the property. You can show me the elevations next.”
He looked at me blankly. “But these are all the plans we have.”
Though Felix’s devotion to the project was touching—I felt it myself, as he spoke—my suspicions about the property were now confirmed. Even if the trustees raised the money and began to build, years would pass while the Colonel waited for a thousand children to be resettled into cottages that existed now merely as paint on paper. It was a shame. In many ways, the Orphaned Hebrews Home was the perfect location for a stadium for the Yankees, but I’d have to tell the Colonel the situation was impossible.
I set aside the plate, brushing crumbs from my hands as I stood. “Mr. Stern, I’m afraid an artist’s rendering is not the same as an engineering plan or an architectural elevation. These may be good for fund-raising, but you must know you can’t develop a site or estimate construction costs based on a pretty picture. Thank you so much for the supper.”
I held out my hand, but he refused to take it. “You can’t leave yet,” he stammered. “I can give you more details. I have notes.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference, I’m afraid. Based on what I’ve seen, your offer of the property is entirely premature.” I’d spoken gently, but I might as well have slapped him, the way Felix’s face darkened. Suddenly his arm jutted out and he knocked the easel over. I jumped back. “Watch out, you’ll ruin the drawings.”
But the easel was the least of it. For a moment he stood there, trembling like a fever victim. Then he strode to the wall and slammed his forehead against the plaster. This was more than a burst of emotion. Felix seemed motivated by an inner torment that went beyond the passions of his race. Though I couldn’t imagine the Colonel doing business with such a man, I felt responsible for his distress and didn’t want to leave him like that. My heart was in my throat as I went over to him. I put one hand on his shoulder. The other I placed on the back of his neck, which was hot as an empty kettle left on a lit gas ring. It burned my hand to touch it. “Stop that now. Come away from the wall.”
I led him to the sofa where he sat, head back and eyes closed. I saw then the lump that was swelling on his forehead. “Stay there.” I went to the kitchenette and picked at the block of ice until I had a pile of chips. Wrapping them in a dish towel, I knelt beside the sofa, pressing the makeshift ice pack to his brow. “Please don’t be upset, Mr. Stern. Your proposal does have some strong merits, and the Colonel is very interested in your property. You’re just too early in the planning stages for him to commit to anything. Maybe next year, after you’ve raised the money and started excavating the new site, we could meet again.”
“I can’t wait another year.”
I shifted the ice pack to his neck to cool his blood. “A deal of this scale takes time. A year isn’t so long in the scheme of things.”
“Not for that.” He reached up and covered my hand with his. His dark eyes opened and stared into mine. A second passed—I heard my wristwatch tick—then another, and another. Still he held my gaze. It really was extraordinary, how long his lashes were. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know what had shifted between us, but he said it anyway. “I can’t wait a year to see you again.”
The lump on his forehead was beginning to bruise. I leaned over and blew on it. “You could have told me, Felix. You didn’t have to hurt yourself.”
“But what if I was wrong about you? I’d have ruined our chances with Colonel Ruppert.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up the tube of his throat. “I was afraid you’d be disgusted.”
So that’s how it was with Felix Stern; no wonder I hadn’t cottoned on to his restrained attentions. “Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s disgusting, isn’t it, what we are?”
It was true most people thought of us that way, if they thought of us at all. It’s how I’d felt about myself, too, after
what that boy at boarding school made me do. But it was meeting other men like us, I told Felix, that made me see we were born this way. He agreed that yes, nature makes her mistakes: dwarfs and midgets, pinheaded children, women with beards, men without legs. When you go to see them at Coney Island, you don’t blame the freaks for being the way they were, he said, but still you wanted to look away. But it wasn’t like that with us, I argued. Sure, there were some pansies so feminine there was no hiding it, even some who could pass themselves off as women. For most of us, though, the imbalance was internal. Inversion, the doctors called it. It was only because society reviled us, persecuted us, sent us to prison, that we learned to be ashamed of an abnormality over which we had no control.
“You should come down to Greenwich Village with me sometime and meet my friends. Paul is such a beauty, it’s as much a part of him as his talent as a dancer. And Jack—he does a wonderful act as Jacqueline—he says he wouldn’t give it up even if he could.”
Felix shuddered. “Those painted pansies turn my stomach. You don’t do anything like that, do you, Albert?”
His question made me think of the Colonel replacing my red bow tie. Maybe he had known what it said about me. If so, he didn’t seem to care—as long as it didn’t show. “I only do it a little, when I go out. It’s not as if I pluck my eyebrows.”
We conversed through the night, his leg draped over mine as we reclined on the sofa, shoes kicked off and collars unbuttoned. He told me he’d applied to Princeton, too, but said they’d reached their quota of Jews for that year. He’d ended up living at home and attending Columbia. That got us talking about our families. For me, the distance between Pittsburgh and New York was a necessary buffer between the life I lived and the one my mother imagined for me. Felix, on the other hand, spent every weekend with his family: Sabbath dinner at his mother’s table, Friday nights sleeping in his childhood bed, Saturday mornings walking to the synagogue. After services, his mother would introduce him to yet another young woman, baffled that her handsome son had not yet married and given her the grandchildren she craved. He said the pressure after college had become too much and he’d suffered a nervous breakdown. When he recovered, he finally moved out on his own.
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