Jada looked up and saw Suzanne. She stopped pacing and walked between the rows of curtains to Suzanne’s side.
“This arrived for you,” she said, holding out an envelope. “It’s from home.”
The telegram seemed to glow in Jada’s hands. Despite their wealth, Suzanne’s mother rarely sent telegrams. She preferred to take her time and write correspondence instead. She looked at Jada, unable to read her expression. What was so urgent that it warranted a telegram? All the jubilation melted from her as she realized the bigger question.
“How did she know where to find us?” Suzanne asked. The thin envelope felt heavy with implications to Suzanne. After not having any contact with her family since they left, something big must have happened to cause her to reach out. Was Father ill?
Jada shifted her feet. “I write to her. She deserves to know how we are doing.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Please don’t be mad.”
Before either woman could respond, Lillian demanded loudly, “A telegram? Who sent you a telegram?”
“Probably Mr. Masterson,” Laura offered before grabbing her towel and heading back to the dressing room. She called over her shoulder, “He’s known for romancing the ladies.”
When Suzanne didn’t respond, Lillian snatched the paper from Jada’s hand and tore it open. Jada made a move to get it back, but Lillian stepped away.
She read, “Suzanne, darling. Stop. Please come home. Stop. Elton dead. Stop.”
All the color drained from Lillian’s face. She glanced around at the crowd that was quickly forming around them. Her face went first pale and then flushed red.
“That was cruel,” Ruby admonished her.
Lillian looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” she croaked.
“Give me that,” Jada said, removing the paper from Lillian’s hand. “Suzanne?”
What had Lillian just read? That couldn’t be right. Elton had been ill for some time, but she never thought it was lethal. She searched herself, trying to find some emotional response, but all she had was disbelief. Dead? Lillian had to be mistaken. Suzanne glanced to Jada, hoping to see an angry expression. Instead, her friend had tears in her eyes and dread on her face.
“Elton’s dead?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Honest?”
Jada nodded and came to her side. She handed the telegram to Suzanne, whose shaky hands made it nearly unreadable. She took a moment to prepare herself and then looked at it.
Suzanne, darling. STOP. Please come home. STOP.
Elton Dead. STOP. Suicide. Family asking for you.
STOP. Await reply. STOP. Mother. STOP.
Suicide? How could Mother put that in a telegram? Lillian’s pale face made more sense now. Her embarrassment wasn’t for what she read aloud, rather it was about what she chose to conceal from everyone. Perhaps there was a heart in her after all. She glanced at the woman, who instantly looked away. Slowly, the rest of the stage came back into focus. A small group surrounded her, but most had dispersed to their own groups. Julian and the pianist talked quietly while other girls packed their bags for the night. There was noticeably less gabbing going on. Even Julian seemed to have one eye on Suzanne. She could not let this define her. She had just been offered a role in Ann and Bert’s number, not to mention the hope of something more. Dedication was key.
“I can’t go home. I am needed here. Mother must understand that,” she said to Jada purposefully loud enough so that her words carried across the stage.
Jada took the telegram back from Suzanne. “But Elton . . .” She stopped herself from saying more. Quieter, she asked, “Are you sure?”
Visions of Elton’s family surfaced in Suzanne’s mind. They must be sitting vigil now, mourning gowns pulled out and pressed. His body would be delivered and they would prepare for burial. She shuddered. That was no longer her world. He had parted long before. She couldn’t go back.
“I’ll write to Mother. She will understand.” The lump in her throat refused to leave.
Julian met her gaze and he looked like he was about to come over and say something when Ann appeared beside them, her face alight with excitement.
“Did I miss it? Has Julian told you?” she gushed. “Blast me and my appointment. I missed it, didn’t I?” Her tone cut through the awkward stillness. Jada shifted uncomfortably, but Suzanne couldn’t address her now.
Lillian rolled her eyes. “The Williams number? He told everyone.” Her tone was flat. “You and Ruby and Suzanne. Congratulations.”
Ann beamed. “Thanks! I’m so excited!” She glanced at Ruby. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Ruby nodded. “It really is.”
Jada nudged Suzanne. “We should write your mother back. She’s worried.”
“We will,” Suzanne promised.
“Suzanne!” Ann exclaimed. “I have to run and meet Fanny, but let’s celebrate. Jody Mae’s Sweet Shop in an hour?”
She felt suddenly light as a feather. Jody Mae’s with Ann and Fanny? There couldn’t be a more perfect way to celebrate her new part.
“That would be grand,” she said. “Can we make it an hour and a half?”
“Of course. Don’t be late!” Ann waved before she sashayed off the stage.
Lillian and Ruby retreated to the dressing room, whispering to one another. Suzanne hoped Lillian had enough discretion to keep the rest of the telegram a secret.
Suzanne shook the telegram from her head. She would not let the news of Elton’s death bring her down. She grabbed Jada’s hand and gushed, “Can you believe it?”
“No, I can’t.” Jada tone was even. “Elton must have been horribly ill.” Her face flushed. “We need to write your mother.”
Suzanne paused. Jada was right; she should write to the Plankstons, but what could she say? Elton was dead, but he’d really left them long before, when he first grew ill. There was nothing more to say.
“I need to court Ann’s friendship,” Suzanne tried to explain. “Mother can wait until tomorrow.”
Jada didn’t reply, but simply folded the telegram and placed it in her pocket.
* * *
Enjoying afternoon tea was a luxury rarely enjoyed by Ziegfeld girls. Suzanne had never really enjoyed such a watery drink. It was only good when it was really hot, and more often than not, it went cold too quickly. If let out on time, many girls headed down the street to Jody Mae’s Sweet Shop. Not only did it serve a wonderful variety of tea flavors, but its open windows and upscale décor made it a wonderful place to see and be seen.
Suzanne had been hearing of the shop since her first day of rehearsals. Finally, she found herself sipping tea beside its distinctive rosy lace curtains. Despite asking for more time, Suzanne found herself sitting there thirty minutes early. The wait wouldn’t have been so bad if Ruby and Lillian weren’t seated at the table close to her. Leave it to Lillian to horn in on her celebration.
“I’m sorry he didn’t choose you, but don’t I get to be excited? This is a big break for me!” Ruby exclaimed. “I’ve worked hard and paid my dues!”
Lillian met Suzanne’s eyes and turned quickly away, as if embarrassed to have even looked at her. “Of course you do.” She took a sip of her tea.
Ruby leaned across the table and took her hand. “It’s unfair. You’ve been with the company a long time too.”
Inwardly, Suzanne rolled her eyes. If Lillian wanted to be in the number, she shouldn’t complain about Bert Williams so loudly. Julian had made that point quite clear.
Lillian sniffed. “And she made it in. After being here only a week.”
Unable to suppress the urge, Suzanne glanced at them. Ruby met her gaze with a look of apology before saying, “Ann gets what she wants. We both know that. And this year she wants Suzanne.”
Whether insult or compliment, it stung just the same. Her success was more than one friendship!
Ruby finished her tea with a quick gulp. “We need to pick up your gown for the party this weekend. Perhaps Flo will rediscover your beauty.”<
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Lillian put a few coins on the table before rising. “Perhaps he will.” She looked at Suzanne.
“See you, girls,” Suzanne said with a cheeriness she didn’t feel.
“Don’t wait for Ann too long,” Lillian replied with the same false tone. As if she didn’t realize Suzanne had heard everything they said.
Ruby cleared her throat and nodded. “Come, now, Lillian. We don’t want to be late.”
Lillian gave Suzanne a pointed look before they left the shop.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Suzanne wondered at what point it was appropriate to leave.
Raising her cup to her lips, she suppressed the urge to make a face. Her tea was cold. In the time she had waited it had gone from burning hot to stale and cold.
Suzanne let out a deep sigh. Promise or no promise, she’d waited long enough. She threw a few coins on the table, picked up her handbag, and turned to leave.
“Pardon me,” Jonathon said. “Did you drop this?”
Suzanne turned around and smiled. Jonathon stood behind her, staring down at her with clear green eyes. His smooth hair fell limply on either side of his part.
He repeated, “Is this yours?” He held out a sheet of paper, which Suzanne immediately recognized as her call schedule for the New Amsterdam.
“Thank you very much,” she said. She held out her hand to take the paper from him.
“What is it?” Jonathon asked, a smirk threatening to break free. “Private correspondence?”
“It’s nothing.” Suzanne tried to grab the paper from him. What would he think if he knew she was so careless with her call sheet?
Jonathon held it tightly too high for her to get it from him without standing. As she watched, he turned it over and glanced at it. “The Williams/Errol number? I knew I heard your name batted around between Flo and Julian. You must be talented, but then, I saw you perform. You light up the stage.”
“I remember, thank you.” She held out her hand for her sheet. He didn’t seem to notice.
“And have you been happy with our little family?” His face turned suddenly serious. “Any problems I should know about?”
Suzanne wrinkled her nose in frustration. “Can I please have my call sheet?” she asked as calmly as possible.
For a moment, it looked like he was going to continue to tease her, but instead he lowered the paper just enough for her to snatch it from him. Suzanne folded it neatly and shoved it in her bag.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to have some tea with the beautiful people.” He nodded around the café, which was filled with various people who looked like fellow performers. “Are you waiting for Ann?”
“As a matter of fact I am.” She fiddled with the napkin in front of her. She didn’t like being caught stood up. “How did you know?”
“She asked me to stop by and tell you she was running late.” Jonathon’s face lit up with his smile.
“But you said—”
“I said I came to drink with the beautiful people and you, Suzanne, are very beautiful.” Jonathon gestured for a waitress to bring him a cup as Suzanne adjusted to his compliment. “Ann is a dear friend and is currently trying to calm down poor Fanny. Something about a stolen suitor.”
“Never a dull moment,” Suzanne said.
The waitress arrived with a new pot of tea and a cup and saucer for Jonathon. “Do you need milk or sugar?”
“Both, please,” Jonathan replied. Once the waitress was out of earshot, Jonathon turned back to Suzanne. “Will you be at Flo’s party?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”
“I was onstage this afternoon. I didn’t know if with your friend’s passing, if you’d still come out and celebrate.” He watched her carefully.
Suzanne looked away. “Life must move forward,” she said. “I hadn’t spoken to him for some time, years in fact. My life is here now.”
“Well, I am sorry for your loss anyway, but glad you do not need to take a leave. Do you think—” Jonathon stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. “Do you think you could save me a dance at—”
“Oh, darling!” Suzanne turned to find Fanny Brice herself smirking at them. All thoughts of a reply flitted from Suzanne’s mind. “Save you a dance? Do people still do that?”
Ann stood next to her friend. “Thanks for keeping Suzanne entertained, Jonathon. I hate being tardy, but it was unavoidable. Forgive me?”
Suzanne smiled. “Well, you did send this charming gentleman to entertain me.” She winked at Ann. From the corner of her eye she saw Jonathon’s cheeks redden.
Fanny took Suzanne’s elbow and pulled her from her chair. “Flo wants us to take you shopping. You are in need of a good suit.”
“This is a new suit.” Suzanne gulped. She had taken that woman at her word for what looked good. Her shoulders did stick out farther than normal, but that was the trend. Or was it. Suzanne suddenly felt foolish and out of place. “Is there something wrong with how I dress?”
“I think you’re lovely.” Jonathon took that moment to stand and take his leave. “Until we meet again, ladies.”
Ann turned to Suzanne. “It isn’t that what you wear is bad, or even ill-fitting. It just isn’t tailored as well as it could be.”
Fanny nodded. “Ziegfeld always said one well-tailored suit is better than ten ill-fitting ones.”
Following Ann had only given her respect so far. Surely one more new suit would be well used. Jada could wait another couple hours for her, she assured herself. The telegram couldn’t be sent until tomorrow and even then, she didn’t owe Mother and the Plankstons anything.
“Very well.” Suzanne took a last drink of her cold tea and stood up. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 11
Nothing said “servant” quite like a handful of packages and armloads of bags. Jada’s arms burned from carrying the heavy purchases, but she dared not put them down. A gentleman to her left offered his hand to a lady stepping off the curb, but he turned his back on Jada, who could barely see the step in front of her
Suzanne’s telegram to home crinkled against Jada’s skin. She’d pressed it in her sleeve to be sure she didn’t lose it. It had been hard to send. It was so impersonal! But, Suzanne had put her foot down. No need to miss rehearsal for someone she hadn’t heard from in years. And yet, they’d known the Plankstons forever. It felt wrong not going, not doing something. She didn’t even ask if Jada wanted to go. She hadn’t asked Jada’s opinion on anything since joining the Follies. It was as if she was actually just a servant!
Settle down, she scolded herself. It had only been a few weeks. Once Suzanne got used to the new schedule, things would go back to normal. This could be good for both of them if only she could let it happen.
Women in wide-brimmed hats walked alongside her, not noticing her as they gossiped about their terrible help and languishing staff. It seemed those who had hired staff from overseas were losing them as the tensions over there called some home, or at least pushed them into different professions. Jada wondered if anything could make her return to Virginia. Images of her parents swinging in the trees made her trip over the sidewalk. No, she could never return. Returning home only brought death.
“Miss?” A man’s voice cut through her train of thought. “Miss?”
Jada kept walking.
“Are you Suzanne Haskins’s girl?”
That made her stop and turn toward the speaker. The gentleman looked familiar. They didn’t know many people in New York. He grinned as their eyes met and she realized it was Mr. Ziegfeld’s assistant. The one who had first told them of the audition.
“Mr. Franks?” she asked.
The man was sitting in the back of a Model T automobile with a bowler cap tilted on his head. He looked quite stylish in his white suit and blue checked bow tie.
“Can I give you a ride?” He opened the door and gestured for her to get inside.
“Are you sure
?” Jada glanced about her. A few of the men and women were now eying them with suspicion.
“Of course!” He jumped out of the automobile and took the packages from her arms. With a free elbow, he escorted her to the car. “Any friend of Miss Haskins. She may soon be a star.”
Jada grinned as she settled into the bench. “Do you really think so?”
“Flo has a way with girls. You never know.” He set the packages between them and jumped in beside her. “And Suzanne is special.”
Jada heard the longing in his voice.
The driver tapped on the window and shouted, “Where to, Jonathon?”
Jonathon looked at Jada. “Where are you off to?”
“489 West Thirty-eighth Street.”
“You heard the girl, Quincy!” Jonathon leaned back in the bench as the car putted into motion. The street was clear and Jada enjoyed the rest. They had gone about a block when Jonathon startled and declared, “Stop!”
He jostled the door open and burst onto the street. “Marie!” he shouted.
A woman in a pink gown slowed, but didn’t stop. Jonathon called out again as he lunged forward and grasped her hand. She spun around.
Her dark brown hair framed her plump cheeks in such a way that her surprised expression looked almost comical. She reminded Jada of a cherub. Marie tried to push Jonathon away, but his grasp was firm. Jada slid over on the bench to be able to hear what was being said. From the little she knew of this assistant, brute force was not his style.
“Let me go!” she hissed. She sounded angry, but her eyes showed her fear.
“What happened?” Jonathon asked her calmly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You disappeared! Something must have happened to cause your departure. Flo has been looking for you all over the city.” He sounded concerned.
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