by Nancy Moser
“Is something wrong?” Beatrice asked.
“Not at all, I was just … I saw your easel in the gallery, and I wanted to tell you that I think you’re very talented.”
Beatrice stared at her for a brief moment, then dodged her head into the hall, looking both ways. “Come in,” she whispered.
Why all the secrecy? Charlotte entered and Beatrice quickly closed the door behind her.
Charlotte expected to find a bedroom similar to her own, if not more grand. She did not expect to find a room lined with paintings. They were leaned against the walls and sat upon countless chairs. Most were reminiscent of the colorful painting Beatrice had tried to show her mother and her friends at tea, but Charlotte recognized others as copies of paintings with the more realistic style of those in the gallery.
“These are magnificent, Beatrice,” she said. “I’m no expert, but even I can see true talent here.” She began to pick up a smaller one, then pulled her hands away. “May I?”
“As you wish.”
The painting was of Central Park, but unlike the paintings in the gallery that could be photographs, the lines were less distinct and the colors applied in layers, giving the figures texture as well as shape. “The Mall, yes?”
Beatrice smiled, and with her smile, Charlotte realized how few times she’d witnessed that expression. “I would love to take an easel there and paint on site as I’ve seen some do, but Mother would have a fit. You heard her at tea. She and her friends cannot fathom the idea of a woman artist. And so …” She swept her arms to encompass the room. “I created my own gallery.”
Charlotte set the painting down and moved to another. “But surely your mother has seen—”
“She doesn’t come to my room, and I don’t invite her.”
How sad. Yet Charlotte couldn’t remember Mrs. Gleason ever visiting Lottie’s room either. Parents and children met in the public areas of the house like acquaintances attending to their duty.
“You should ask to have your work displayed in your mother’s gallery,” Charlotte said.
Beatrice laughed. “But don’t you see? I don’t qualify, for I’m neither male nor deceased.”
It was unfathomable. To have such a talent and be unable to share it. “It’s like …” Charlotte hesitated, then said it anyway. “God tells us not to put our light under a basket. We’re told to let it shine for all the world to see.”
“Ah, but only if one’s light fits within the limits of society. Or one is male.”
Beatrice’s pain was Charlotte’s own. “I’m so sorry, Beatrice. Surely there’s some way you can show your work.”
She raised her chin as though assuming a familiar mental stance. “I don’t need others to give my work worth. I paint for myself, an audience of one.”
“Two,” Charlotte said. When Beatrice raised an eyebrow, Charlotte pointed heavenward. “The Giver of the gift sees and appreciates.”
Beatrice looked at a painting as if studying it, but Charlotte could see her thoughts were elsewhere.
“I should be going,” Charlotte said.
Beatrice nodded and moved toward the door with her. Then she said, “I’m sorry to hear about your father. Are you close?”
Charlotte’s thoughts bypassed Mr. Gleason and moved to her own father. She’d never known him as an adult. “When I was small we were.”
Beatrice put her hand on the doorknob. “I used to be Daddy’s little princess.”
“Maybe you still are?”
Beatrice shook her head. “My father doesn’t even see me anymore. I’m a disappointment.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.” She opened the door. “Sleep well, Charlotte. Come back anytime.”
“Thank you, I will.”
If not for herself, for Beatrice.
Chapter Seventeen
I might not be back.
It was an awkward morning at the Scarpellis’. Unbeknownst to them, today Lottie was going to the Tremaines’. If all went well …
Eating a piece of bread, she looked around their apartment. It was hard to imagine that this had ever been home to her. She remembered her first night, crammed into the bedroom, lying on the floor, afraid of the dark.
Although conditions hadn’t changed, she’d changed. What had seemed appalling was now appreciated. That these strangers had cared for her, had saved her …
She looked at Sofia, sitting on Lea’s lap, weak but on the mend. Their eyes met, and Lottie made a funny face to make her smile. Then she watched as Dante and Aldo talked about the upcoming day over their coffee. Francesca scolded Vittorio for something as she started to get out the supplies to make paper flowers. Lucia made lunches for all of them. Everyone had a purpose, a place.
Except Lottie. She helped as much as she could, but unlike the others who were bound by blood and history, she stood alone.
What will be different at the Tremaines’?
They were her people.
Or were they? She had never witnessed New York society. Would she feel at home there? Or would they gather in their own little groups, once more leaving her set apart?
Movement in the room increased, indicating it was time for all to go to work. Lottie lingered, pretending to have an issue with her shoe. She wanted to be the last one out; she wanted to have a moment with Sofia and Lea.
Lucia paused at the door, waiting for her.
“Solo un minuto,” Lottie said. “Ciao. See you later.”
Lucia nodded and left the apartment without her. Lottie despaired at seeing her go. How she wished she could have told Lucia her plans and offered a full good-bye. But to do so would be to admit her deception. Lottie didn’t want Lucia to think badly of her. After everything was settled—if it was settled—Lottie would come back and explain.
She finished tying her shoe with true difficulty. She was wearing her corset today, and the suit she’d worn the first day Lea had seen her at Castle Garden. She needed to look her best for the Tremaines but feared her suit would raise questions with Lea.
“Well, I’m going,” she said, dropping her skirt over her shoes.
Francesca gave her a glance, and Lea said, “You pretty.”
“Thank you. I thought it was time I wear my own clothes.” She didn’t know how much Lea understood. She didn’t want to share her plans, or that she might not be back, because the truth was, she might be back this very evening. Her stomach tightened at the uncertainty of her day. Yet this had to work. It was the only way for her to move forward and create a life with her baby.
When Lottie stood, Sofia slipped out of her mother’s arms and ran to her. Lottie scooped her up, and as usual, Sofia wrapped her legs around her hips. But instead of looking at each other eye to eye, sharing smiles and words, Sofia wrapped her arms around Lottie, leaning her head upon her shoulder.
It’s as if she knows.
Lottie battled tears. They were unacceptable until she was alone. She put a hand on the back of Sofia’s head and whispered in her ear, “I love you, little girl. You were a light in this very dark place. God bless you and keep you safe and well.”
She kissed her forehead and let her go. Lea looked at her quizzically. Lottie longed to fully express her gratitude, but now wasn’t the time. When she was established at the Tremaines’, she’d find a way. Perhaps she could convince Conrad to find the Scarpellis a proper home—at his expense. Then she could see them anytime she wished. After all, they were her family.
As Lottie opened the door, Sofia brought Lottie her hat. Lottie held it a moment and was tempted to take it, for it would make her look like a lady. But as she moved the hat toward her head, her hands detoured and put it on Sofia’s head instead of her own.
“This is yours, sweet girl. Forever and always. To remember me by.”
Then she left.
Tears accompanied her down the stairs to the street.
“I can’t work today,” Lottie declared to Sven.
He paused and adjus
ted the equipment on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
She hesitated to say anything. “I have something I must attend to.”
“Is Fitz all right?” He looked genuinely concerned.
“Fitz is fine. It has to do with … well … with the Tremaines.”
His eyebrow lifted and he cleared his throat. “Your work ethic is sorely lacking, Miss Hathaway.”
She hated to hear the disappointment in his voice. “I can work as well as the best of them.”
“But you choose not to.” He reached out and grabbed the arm of a young boy walking past. “Need a job, boy?”
The boy nodded.
“Good, then come with me and—”
Lottie ran in front of Sven, blocking his path. “You discard me so quickly?”
He cocked his head. “Who discarded who here?”
“I didn’t quit. I only said I can’t work today.” And yet that was a lie. If events occurred at the Tremaines’ as she hoped they would occur …
Sven reached into his pocket and handed the boy a coin. “Sorry, son. No work today.” He turned his attention to Lottie. “So. Will you explain exactly what’s keeping me from your companionship today?”
She smiled. “Companionship?” So he had succumbed to her charms, just a little?
He reddened. “Association. Presence here. With me. As I work.”
“How is your wife today, Mr. Svensson?”
His brow furrowed. “Uff da, woman.”
She gave him a smile, enjoying that she’d rattled him, even as she felt wistful at leaving him.
Sven shook his head and sighed. “Go on with you, then. I’ll do fine without you. But be back here tomorrow or I’ll hire another.”
“As you say. Good-bye, Sven.”
But as Lottie strode away from him, she faltered. She might not be there tomorrow. Or the next day. Or ever again.
She looked over her shoulder at him, needing one last glance.
He was looking after her. Their eyes met.
He raised a hand to wave. Then he said, “Come back again, Lottie. I need you.”
She turned away and walked faster.
She missed him already.
One more thing to do before Lottie went to the Tremaines’.
As soon as Nanny placed Fitz in Lottie’s arms, his body melted to hers. She cupped his face with a hand. How can I leave you behind?
“Ah, there,” Nanny said, tracing a curlicue in the air between them. “Just as I thought. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“You always could read me.”
“Someone had to.” She handed Lottie a cloth and pointed to the drool on the baby’s chin. “Out with it.”
Lottie had not planned on telling Nanny her plan.
Or had she?
Had she come to see Fitz and Nanny knowing Nanny would see the conflict teeming inside her?
There was no need for a definitive answer. She gave Fitz her finger to gnaw upon and began. “I discovered that Dora isn’t interested in Conrad Tremaine, but in another man we met on the ship.”
“That’s her prerogative,” Nanny said. “Just because she took your place doesn’t mean love for Conrad would follow. Unless you wish for her to marry without love?”
“No, of course …” Or was that exactly what she’d hoped would happen? With Dora and Conrad married, the deception would be complete. Nonreversible. Was their marriage a guarantee against Lottie changing her mind?
“You’re not talking, Lottie. And my ears are waiting.”
She avoided Nanny’s eyes and gazed at Fitz, who didn’t care what her name was as long as she held him. “Things haven’t worked out as I hoped they would.”
Nanny harrumphed. “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.”
“But things usually work out for me, Nanny. I’ve never had things go wrong—so terribly wrong.”
“ ‘He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool: but whoso walketh wisely, he shall be delivered.’ ”
Was Nanny calling Lottie a fool? Was the title deserved?
She made her defense. “Since there might be a chance to marry Conrad myself, I have to try.”
When Nanny lowered her chin and raised an eyebrow, Lottie knew she was in for a scolding. “You think Conrad Tremaine will marry you just because you walk through the door and smile at him?”
“It will take more than a smile. I know that.”
“Do you?”
Lottie held Fitz under his arms so he could sit upon her lap. “You act as though I’m shallow, as though I have no feeling—”
“You’re planning to march in and marry a man you’ve never met—a man you deceived—as though a husband were a bonnet on a rack to be perused and purchased.”
It did sound cold. Calculating. Fitz squirmed and Lottie settled him upon her shoulder in the way Sven had shown her. The baby’s need made her think of a way to justify her plan. “I’m not thinking of myself. If I married Conrad, we could adopt Fitz. Fitzwilliam Tremaine. That’s a name steeped in power and authority, don’t you think?”
“ ‘Remove far from me vanity and lies: give me neither poverty nor riches.’ ”
“I’m not vain! I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Nanny crossed her arms in front of her ample chest and glared at her. Lottie felt six again, uncertain and scared. “Do you actually believe the Tremaines will take you in after your deception, and accept your abandoned foundling as their own?”
Until now, Lottie had not allowed logic to enter into her plan. She didn’t like hearing it now. She needed things to work out in spite of her own actions. “I … I’m just tired of being alone, Nanny. I came to America hoping to find adventure and maybe romance, and all I’ve found is crisis and pain. I just want—”
Nanny sat forward, pointing a finger at her. “What I’m about to tell you may sound odd, especially considering my admonition, but here I’ll say it: you’ve always thought too little of yourself, Lottie-girl. I tried to make you recognize your potential, but obviously I failed. We all want love. I too wanted the love of a man in my time. But that can’t be the end-all of your journey. You don’t need a man for your very being. You’re a grown woman now, a strong, intelligent, vibrant woman. Let love find you and it will be a strong love. But first be strong in yourself, in your faith, and in your God.”
Lottie felt the sting of tears. “But I’m not strong or smart. Someone’s always been there to tell me what to do. I came to think it was a bad thing, a prison of sorts, but now, left on my own …” She sighed. “I’d love for someone to tell me exactly what to do and take care of me again. I’m tired of trying to do it myself.”
“Then stop trying.”
“What?”
“Stop trying to do it yourself. None of us are meant to go the way alone. God got you this far; He’ll get you the rest of the way.”
When was the last time she’d prayed? There’d been a few prayers scattered through the days, but when things continued to worsen and get more complicated, she’d taken hold of the reins of her life without looking to the right or the left. Or within. To Him. And yet … and yet …
Nanny was watching her and, with a shake of her head, moved her chair forward and put a hand on Lottie’s knee. “Father, guide this child toward your will. Keep her safe and help her do the right thing. Amen.”
That was all very nice, but … “What’s the right thing?”
Nanny sighed with exasperation. “Patience is a virtue, Lottie. Be on the lookout. He’ll be showing it to you.”
“Promise?”
She crossed her heart. “Promise.”
Lottie gazed at Fitz a long moment. So … what should she do? She closed her eyes, hoping God would place an image in her thoughts, some direction she could follow.
She found nothing but confusion.
“I have to go now,” she said, getting up.
“That quickly? You know where you’re supposed to go?”
“
No. But until I do, I’m going to the Tremaines’.”
“Lottie, that’s not the way it works. You shouldn’t rush ahead like a dog pulling on a leash. Remember who’s the Master. Walk beside Him and let Him do the leading.”
Lottie shook her head. “I can’t wait. Time is against me. I have to get to the Tremaines’ and make my claim before something else goes wrong. I have to try.”
“Try and die …”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“Those who barrel ahead run into the fire.”
“I can’t just stand here.”
“You could. Until He moves you on.”
She could, if only it were in her nature. Which it wasn’t.
Lottie kissed Fitz and placed him in Nanny’s arms. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Is that a promise?”
Was it?
It had to be.
Lottie crossed her heart. “I promise.”
With her one and only dime, Lottie hired a hack to take her to the Tremaines’ home. It was too far to walk, especially in her corset and suit. She needed to arrive in a presentable fashion.
But as she rehearsed what she would say to them, the hack stopped. “This is it.”
She looked out the window. “No it’s not.” She spotted a street sign. “This is Twentieth. I need Thirty-fourth.”
“Then I need more money.”
“I told you where I was going before we left. You agreed.”
He shrugged. “I agreed to take you there. And I will. It’s your choice. Here, or there. For more money.”
She smiled at him, tipping her head just so. “Please, sir? I don’t wish to arrive disheveled, and the wind today is brisk and—”
He held out his hand for more coins.
This was ridiculous. As she got out, her skirt caught on the door handle, and she heard a ripping sound as her feet met the ground.
“You tore my skirt!”
“You tore your skirt. Have a good day.” He drove on without her.
Lottie yelled after him, “Your ploy for more money didn’t work, did it, mister?”
But as he drove out of earshot, and as Lottie found people looking at her, she realized the driver’s ploy had worked fine. For he’d let her off on a street full of fancy stores. He would have no trouble getting another fare.