“No. Yes. But that’s okay. When you do it, it’s charming. Fresh and natural.” It was true. She was enchanting.
Two waiters came to take their soup plates away, then brought the second course: stuffed artichokes. Erich was glad he knew what the food was this time and how to eat it. He hated the thought of making a fool of himself in front of all these people.
“Tell me about your work, Mr. Muller. Is it as exciting as everyone imagines it is?”
“Oh, you know. A fire here, a murder there. No big deal.”
“That’s not what I hear. Daddy says you’re out to destroy the mob one-handedly.”
Erich lifted one eyebrow. Daddy seemed to have something to say about everything.
“Does he? Well, he’s giving me more credit than I deserve. One man could never take on the mob and live to talk about it.”
“I expect you’re right.” She nodded. “I expect they’d find you floating in the East River one day. Are you working on anything interesting now?”
“I just got back from Oklahoma a couple of days ago. I went down there to interview some farmers. They weren’t in the mood to talk at first but before long they opened up and couldn’t stop talking.”
“I read about that in the newspaper. They call it the Dust Bowl. It sounds awful. All those poor people need help.”
Erich finished his last artichoke leaf and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He nodded, frowning. “Yeah. It’s a bad scene. They’ve been forced to leave their farms and move to the big cities in droves. But they can’t find work. The dust is so bad I still don’t feel I’ve washed it all off me yet. Kansas, Oklahoma - it’s awful.”
The waiter refilled their glasses and another waiter took their appetizer plates away.
“This is some party.” He glanced up and down the table, taking in the different, unfamiliar faces. “Somehow I missed meeting the Masons before we sat down. Do you know them?”
“Yes, I’ve known them all my life. She was my mother’s maid of honor and my godmother.”
“Well, that explains how you got invited. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Oh, that’s easy. This dinner party is for literary types and writers.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “You may not know who the Masons are, but they know who you are.”
“So which ones are they?”
“Oh, they never come to their own dinner parties. They’re on their yacht somewhere.”
That was a surprise. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” She smiled. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
After they finished the main course, and coffee and dessert were brought to the table, Erich turned to Jenny. “Do you think we’d offend our host and hostess if we went for a walk?”
She took his arm and they strolled down a path covered in small pebbles which which seemed to glow in the moonlight. The moist night air carried the scent of the boxwoods bordering the path. And he smelled lavender coming from somewhere. It was hard to believe they were in the heart of Manhattan.
“I ate too much,” Jenny said. “I’d better stick to salad tomorrow or I’ll get as big as a house.”
“Do you know what you make me think of? A sparrow.”
She punched his arm playfully. “I may look frail, but I’m strong.”
“Do you want to go back to the party?”
She looked sideways at him, blinking shyly. “No. Since you asked, what I’d really like would be to go someplace where you and I could talk and listen to music.”
“I know the perfect place.”
***
They were married on July 29, 1931 in the landscaped gardens of the Abbot mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. A cloudy morning gave way to a sun-filled afternoon, and a balmy, early autumn breeze filled the air with a perfumed fragrance from the rose garden. Jenny’s simple but elegant vanilla satin gown complimented her slender figure. She looked stunning.
Erich saw her walking toward him on the arm of her father and hoped he was doing the right thing. He tried to keep his mind off Laura but couldn’t. She intruded on his thoughts almost constantly, no matter what he did.
After two weeks honeymooning in the Bahamas, he carried Jenny over the threshold of his apartment in the Bronx, which had become their apartment.
Her pretty face made him smile. If he could just get the other one out of his heart they’d have a chance to be happy. But he was doomed, and he knew it. Who was he trying to kid? He was still in love with Laura. Jenny, sweet Jenny, deserved better. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck. He pulled her close and they kissed. She smelled soft and floral, like jasmine and roses.
Erich went back down to get the suitcases, leaving her to explore the apartment. When he returned, Jenny stood at the door of the kitchen holding a wooden spoon.
“I’ve got the headline for tomorrow’s paper: ‘Bride finds spoon but nothing to stir.’”
He winked at her. “We’ll go out to eat.”
She walked to the window and looked out, arms folded across her chest.
“This must be a real letdown for you,” he said. He came up from behind and put his arms around her. “We’ll look for a bigger place. I promise.”
“Good.” She turned in his arms and kissed him. “There are some houses for sale in Yonkers.”
“I can’t afford a house now. In another year or two we’ll be able to, but not now.”
“You can’t, but we can. My parents will help us.”
“We talked about that, remember? We decided we’d make it on our own. Dan knows a couple that are moving out of their apartment in the village next month. The rooms are big, not the usual closet size.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Chapter Fifty
On his way to work the following Monday morning, Erich was held up by a terrible accident on Boston Post Road. He was certain he’d be late. Dan had called him twice on Sunday, begging him to come in early. He figured that was the real reason he was going to be late. What did they call it? Karma? This wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned to start his first day back at the newsroom after a two week vacation. Dan had told him there were at least fifty messages waiting for him.
At last the police let cars pass through. When it was his turn he couldn’t help glancing at the two mangled cars and wondering if anyone had been killed. He got his answer when he saw someone pull a sheet over one of the bodies. He was grateful he hadn’t been able to see much.
Dan was waiting for him by his desk when he walked into the newsroom. “You’re late.”
Erich grimaced at the stack of messages piled on his desk. “It’s twenty to nine. I’m twenty minutes early.”
“I expected you here by eight. Sorry I missed the wedding.”
Erich laughed. “I’ll bet you’re glad you had to go to the editors’ conference.”
“Go ahead and rub it in.” Dan walked away, retracing his steps. “Oh, we may be sending you over to London for a while. Our bureau chief is retiring next year and we want you to take over.”
“I’m not moving to London.”
“Not for good. You’d be a temporary replacement.”
“I’ll have to talk to Jenny about it.”
Ten minutes later Dan came back to his desk, accompanied by a tall, thin woman about fifty years old. Erich was on the phone with one of his sources and didn’t pay much attention to them at first. The woman sat in a chair, waiting, and Dan watched Erich until he finished the call.
“Mrs. Flay came in to see you last week. She has something important to tell you. I asked her what it was and she wouldn’t say.”
She shook her head. “It’s important that I tell him,” Mary Flay said and pointed at Erich. Dan nodded and walked away.
Erich turned away from all the paper on his desk and gave Mary Flay his undivided attention. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Flay?”
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, please call me Mary. I suppose I could have told
the other gentleman what I have to say, but I really think this is information I should only share with you.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“When I was a young girl I knew a man who worked at our local paper. He made up half the things he wrote about. I found that out when he interviewed my cousin’s father. My uncle was a fireman and saved three people from a fire. The story he wrote said a lot of things that hadn’t been said in the interview. You don’t do that, do you?”
“Make things up? That’s called fiction and no, I don’t do that.”
He tried not to look impatient, but he wished she’d say what she came to say. He had to tackle the mountain of messages.
“Well, all right. The thing is, when I visited my sister in the spring, I read all the articles you wrote about the Austin kidnapping. You made it come alive for me.”
Austin kidnapping? That got his attention. He let the phone messages slide a bit lower on his list of priorities.
“I need to tell you about a young woman who lived at my boarding house in Vandalia, Ohio for a few months. But it’s not actually the woman I want to tell you about. It was the child. I didn’t even know she had a child until the last night she was there. I was cleaning the hallway outside her room when I heard him cry. You should have seen the look on her face when I confronted her.”
A copy editor placed a couple of articles on his desk and Erich nodded thanks at him. Mary opened her handbag and removed something that he recognized as being the dust jacket of Laura’s book, Shattered Vows, which had just been published. She laid the paper on his desk and pushed it toward him. He found himself staring at Laura and couldn’t look away. She grew more beautiful all the time.
“Have you read this? It’s wonderful.”
“No, I haven’t had a chance. Look, I’m sorry, Mary but could you please finish telling me about the little boy? I’ve been away, as you know, and I have a ton of work to catch up on.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I should have known you’d be busy. It’s just that I wanted to see you face to face and tell you what I think might be important. There’s not much to tell about the little boy, except for the eyes. When I saw this picture I knew what it was that grabbed my attention. The little boy had Laura Austin’s eyes. Not just the color and the shape, but also the same dreamy expression.”
Erich pulled a photograph out of one of his desk drawers and handed it to her. “Is this the child you saw?”
She stared hard at the photo, but shook her head. “I’m not sure. The hair was short and mousy brown, not blond and curly. But I can’t get those eyes out of my mind.”
“What did you say this woman’s name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Maggie Pierce. She looks a bit like the actress. You know. The one they call the ‘it’ girl.” Mary got up and took a couple of steps away from Erich’s desk. “Oh, and she has an English accent.”
***
Within two weeks of finding and killing Rudy, Virginia had closed up her brownstone, packed her bags and was on her way to London. She’d told Laura she was going to open a new club and hoped she believed her. It wasn’t really a lie. She did plan to open a new club there. She figured in that type of environment she might meet people who had information about Todd.
It took her eight days to find a suitable location in London. Then she left her new assistant in charge of renovations and began her search for Nancy Evans. She started with the telephone directory. Listings for Nancy Evans and N. A. Evans led to four people: the son of a woman who had died seven weeks earlier at ninety-seven, a vacuum cleaner salesman, a foul-mouthed mother of six, and an enormous middle-aged woman who spoke a lilting but almost incomprehensible combination of Jamaican and English. In other words, nothing.
For the next couple of months Virginia spent mornings canvassing playgrounds. At first she made herself as inconspicuous as possible, but one day one of the mothers asked her why she kept staring at the children. Since she didn’t have a suitable answer, she stopped going to playgrounds.
One afternoon in the middle of September she visited a nursery school in South Kensington. The bell rang and the children lined up. Virginia looked at all the blond-haired children carefully, but none of them were Todd. As she was about to leave, a mother dropped off her little boy.
“Do you have a minute?” Virginia asked.
“That’s about all I have.”
“How old is your son?”
“He’s almost three.”
“Do you know if any of the children in his class are named Evans?”
“No, no one by that name.”
It had been more than a year since Todd had been kidnapped. Virginia wasn’t any closer to finding him than she’d been on the first day. Her nephew was growing up in a strange country without his family, and it was all her fault.
***
Laura stared at the engraved invitation she held in her hand.
Miss Virginia Kingsley
cordially requests your attendance
at the opening of her new supper club,
KINGSLEY’S
Saturday September 17, 1931 at 8:00 PM
Formal attire required.
Virginia had added a little note that read, “I can’t wait to see you. I hope you and Rachel are both well.”
Could she possibly go? If she did, she’d have to leave Rachel. The baby would be barely four months old, and the thought of leaving her made Laura’s heart race. She had once left Todd, too. And had never seen him again. She knew Mrs. Nickerson would take good care of Rachel, but still …
For days she couldn’t decide what to do. One morning she found Mrs. Nickerson in the kitchen preparing Rachel’s bottle. She sat at the table, folded her arms in front of her and sighed.
“What’s the matter, Laura? You’ve had something on your mind for days. What is it?”
Laura handed her the invitation and watched Mrs. Nickerson’s expression as she read it. “What’s the problem? You’ll have a wonderful time. I’ve heard your aunt knows how to throw a great party.”
“Yes, she does, but I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“You know why. I can’t leave Rachel. The last time I left my baby …”
Mrs. Nickerson sat beside her and took her hand. “Laura, don’t do this to yourself. You’re a good mother. You’re a good mother to Rachel and you’re a good mother to Todd. And you will be again when he comes home.”
Laura gazed at Mrs. Nickerson and a little smile played at the corners of her lips. “Do you really believe he’s going to come home, Iris? I try to hang onto that, but sometimes it’s so hard. It’s been a long time.”
Mrs. Nickerson shook her head decisively. “I don’t believe he’s going to come home. I know he is.”
Laura took the nanny’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Now you go to your aunt’s party and have a wonderful time. That little angel asleep in the nursery will be safe, I promise you. I won’t let her out of my sight, and I won’t let anyone else near her, either.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Kingsley’s opened in London on September 17th, 1931. At a quarter to nine, a white Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb. Laura stepped out and made her way into the club.
Once inside, she slipped out of her full-length ermine mink coat and looked around. Two of Kingsley’s walls were painted white, and the other two were black. The dance floor was black and white marble and the tables and chairs alternated in black and white. The decorator had even gone so far as to ensure the black tables had white accessories and vice versa.
Every eye went to Laura. Her strapless red velvet evening gown was a sharp contrast to the stark decor of the club, and the lights shone on the curve of her golden chignon, sparking off the tasteful diamond earrings and matching pendant hanging around her slender neck.
All Laura saw was Erich. Their eyes met and in that second there was no one in the room but the two of them. She wanted more than anything to be alone with him, just to see h
im, talk to him, touch him. Then his beautiful young wife said something and he looked away from Laura. She’d known Erich had gotten married, but … Seeing them together made her feel ill with regret. She’d lost him forever, and it was her own fault for being so stupid, for refusing to see him for so long. What a fool she had been. A stubborn, stupid fool.
The band began to play “Night and Day” and Erich got up to dance with his wife. Laura couldn’t take her eyes off them. Every so often Erich glanced over at Laura, squeezing anguish through her heart. After three dances, the couple went back to their table and Virginia appeared, pouring champagne for herself and Laura.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Laura,” Virginia said. She followed Laura’s gaze and took a deep breath, then let the air out slowly. “Why don’t you go over and say something to him? It’s obvious he still has feelings for you.”
“Aunt Virginia, he’s a married man, and I know it’s my fault he married her. I’ve lost him, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Oh, yes there is. You could tell him about Rachel. Don’t you think that would make a difference to him?”
Laura studied her aunt. “I’m curious. What is he doing here?”
“He’s working in London and I—”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You did it again.” Laura shook her head. “You planned for the two of us to be here so we could reunite. Well, I’m telling you it isn’t going to work.”
Virginia grinned. “We’ll see about that. Speaking of which, did you bring any pictures of the baby?”
Laura nodded and handed her two photographs of five-month-old Rachel.
Virginia smiled fondly at the pictures. “She looks just like him, Laura. Especially her eyes. They’re so blue. You won’t be able to keep the secret from him much longer. As soon as he sees her, he’ll know. Everyone will know.”
Laura glanced over at Erich. “Rachel also has a lot of Todd’s sweetness.”
Willow Pond Page 21