Lady Be Good

by Amber Brock

Kitty sat, dumbfounded. The bridge game, the trip to the bird sanctuary. The glances Kitty had brushed aside, the touches on the arm she had written off as friendly, the sweet compliments she’d assumed were for both of them. Hen had even asked Kitty point-blank if Kitty was interested in Andre. Now that question revealed an entirely different intent, one that really hurt. Hen wouldn’t have been willing to consider Andre a romantic possibility if Kitty had designs on him. No doubt the final days in Miami and the flight home without her had provided the final push Andre and Hen needed. Yet Kitty hadn’t seen what now seemed so clear.

  Charles took advantage of the silence to grasp Kitty’s hand again. She couldn’t even flinch.

  “None of that really matters now,” he said. “If she wants to attach herself to that boor, then she can live with the consequences. But the fact is, I need a woman by my side who will represent me well. A woman who will value the life I can give her. Kitty, I can’t believe I was so blind.”

  “Blind,” she echoed, still lost in the whirlwind of her thoughts.

  “You’re the one for me. Hen and I were never right together, I see that now. None of it ever made sense. It was what our parents wanted.” He waited for her to respond, but all she could manage was a nod. He took that as permission to continue. “Just look at how glamorous you are. Hen could never pull that off. Well, I guess with her new friend, she won’t have to worry about that.” He grimaced but caught himself and went back into romance mode. “But you. You’re gorgeous. You’ll make me look good.”

  And there it was. Charles saw her as a well-dressed paper doll who would display the right clothes at his parties and clubs. The corners of his mouth ticked up as he failed spectacularly at looking humble, but his eyes flickered with impatience. “What do you say, Kitty?”

  She jolted out of her reverie. Everything had seemed to go wrong, but here she sat, being offered exactly what she’d wanted in the first place. Hen had found a worthier man, and Kitty had a one-way ticket to the elite class she’d dreamed of. All she had to do was say yes, and the brass ring was hers. Really more like a platinum ring. But she couldn’t move her mouth. She couldn’t even loosen her hand from his grip. The only sensation she could concentrate on was a sour taste at the back of her throat that meant the vodka pineapple she’d swallowed was about to make a swift return. She sputtered out a few incoherent syllables, and Charles chuckled.

  “I know, it’s sudden,” he said. “No need to say anything. I’m just sorry I wasted so much of what could have been our time together. Of course, we’ll have to announce it as soon as possible. That way we can get your application for the athletic club in the works. I don’t know what they’ll think of your father. Though I’m sure my father can convince them to look past that.” He snapped his fingers in the air, looking around. A waiter passed by, and Charles snapped again. “Boy! We’ll have a bottle of your best champagne. And don’t dally.”

  The waiter, who didn’t look a day under fifty years old, stopped. “Of course, sir.”

  “Well, don’t stand there staring at me. Go.” Charles turned his attention to Kitty, massaging her shoulder. “It’s not just how lovely you are,” he said. “You’re smart. I know you’d never so much as look at a fella like that Andre, would you? Some low-class hotel manager. No. You want something better.” He slid his arm over her shoulders. “And now you’ve got it.”

  She shrugged his arm off under the guise of reaching for her drink. Charles, better than Andre? But Andre was friendly, hardworking, solid. What would Charles think of Max? Max had said the same words to her—you’re smart—but they sounded so different coming out of Charles’s mouth. She realized she ought to offer some response, but nothing came to her. Then she realized that Charles hadn’t seemed to notice that she wasn’t answering him. He didn’t care. Sure enough, he continued, oblivious to her reticence.

  “When we finish here, perhaps we should go back to my apartment. I have some good champagne there, not the swill they serve here. Then we can really celebrate.” He drew out the last word, and Kitty was convinced she would retch this time. Thankfully, the waiter returned, glistening champagne bottle in hand. Charles sat back in his chair as the waiter began opening the bottle.

  “What was your mother’s name, by the way? Her last name, I mean,” Charles said, watching the waiter pour.

  “Oh…um, Orel.”

  “We can probably pass that off as Scottish. Not ideal, but it will be all right.”

  An electric shock ran up Kitty’s spine as she looked at Charles’s smarmy expression. Every instinct in her fought against the possibility of becoming like him. Someone who shouted at waiters to prove some kind of flimsy importance and assigned rank based on last name. Her future with Charles wouldn’t be spent making him sorry for the way he’d treated Hen. Their union would be lonely nights covering for his infidelity, ignoring his idiotic remarks, and looking the other way as he berated those he considered beneath him.

  Of course she couldn’t accept him. She could barely look at him. Her thoughts returned to Hen’s mother’s comments at the hotel months ago, when Kitty had listened for the millionth time to the way those people talked about her. Hen’s mother and her friend had enumerated Kitty’s many supposed faults. Surely Charles had thought of her the same way, until she had proven to be a convenient accessory. She was now a beautiful bauble to wear on his arm and nothing more.

  Even though she’d understood Max’s meaning when he’d said that the doctor ought to have been better, not her, now the full weight of his words settled on her. She had the chance to be better than them. Not higher on the social ladder, or decked in more jewels, or living in the most expensive high-rise. No, she could follow behind them, opening every door they were determined to close. She was struck by a sudden feeling of pride in every aspect of her that separated her from them.

  Kitty reached for her purse. “I’m sorry, Charles. I’m afraid the answer is no.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, his eyes widening.

  “Then don’t try too hard. First time and all, don’t want you to strain anything.” She stood, pulling a crisp ten-dollar bill from her purse and placing it in the waiter’s jacket pocket. “This is just in case you have to put up with this jackass for any longer.”

  “Now wait just a damn minute—” Charles began. Kitty had already turned her back on him. She walked out of the restaurant and into what seemed like a new city. She gazed up at the twinkling lights atop the buildings around her. How many people did they conceal from the streets below? The thoughts that had been taking shape in her mind now solidified, and at last she saw clearly what Max had seen from the beginning. Those people lived at the top not because of some inherent importance or superiority, but because they were hiding. Sheltering themselves from the changes that were happening on the sidewalks. She wanted to be part of the new world that was taking shape. Not a monochrome statue to the glories of the past, but a patchwork quilt of the people of the present. Those who would shatter the old order, not pay reverence to it. In that world, she could be proud of her heritage, not ashamed. Her own future now felt inextricably tied to the future of the city and all the people in it. She thought of a fragment of Max’s poem: We cannot follow…an antique drum. She primed her ear for the new rhythms around her.

  Kitty woke up the morning after leaving Charles at the Palm refreshed in a way that she hadn’t been for weeks. After dressing and walking Loco, she sat down on the living room couch with a notebook and pen. A better outlook called for a better plan.

  Unlike the letters to Max that Kitty had been unable to finish, her words to Hen flowed easily. She knew exactly what she needed to say and she said it, plainly and without her usual flourish. The pages filled as she explained herself without asking for anything more than the possibility of offering an apology. As she neared the end, she realized she could only imagine saying the words to Hen’s face, if Hen would ag
ree to listen. She turned to a blank sheet and wrote: #1 Speak to Hen.

  The rest of the list came easily, too. A picture of herself formed in her mind. The image was foggy and different from any other version of herself she’d ever imagined. Still, this was the image that informed her new plan, and the image would only grow sharper as she enacted it. #2 Speak to Papa.

  She listed a few more steps, knowing none of them were as certain as the first two. But in order to get the rest of her ideas to take shape, she’d have to cross the first two items off. With that in mind, she lifted the phone to call Hen.

  “No,” she murmured. She turned to Loco, who sprawled on the couch beside her. “No preamble. Better just to go, don’t you think? She can always turn me away if she wants to.”

  Kitty ruffled the dog’s fur and dialed down for the car instead.

  * * *

  As Kitty knocked on the front door of Hen’s apartment, a queasy feeling she’d never known before rolled through her. She took a deep breath, exhaling just as the maid opened the door.

  “May I help you?” the woman asked.

  “I’m here to see Hen. Is she in?”

  The maid’s expression didn’t change. “Let me check.”

  “No need, Doris,” said a voice down the left hall. “Let her in.”

  Kitty stepped into the doorway to see Hen standing, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “I had a feeling you’d show up sooner or later.” Hen raised an eyebrow.

  “I won’t stay long,” Kitty said. “Can we talk?”

  Hen turned and started toward the library. “I’m sure you mean, can you talk.”

  “Well, yes, I plan to talk. But you can say anything you like back. All I ask is that you listen.” Kitty followed Hen into the library, careful to choose a seat with a few feet of distance from the sofa Hen occupied.

  “So. What exactly do you want me to listen to?” Hen’s tone was airy.

  “An apology.” Kitty swallowed. “With no excuses.”

  “Is that so? Not what I expected, actually.”

  “I know what I did was wrong. Why bother trying to excuse something that can’t be excused? I shouldn’t have called Charles. I let him believe you were doing things you’d never do. I hurt you, and you were the last person on earth I should have hurt.” Tears tingled at the corners of Kitty’s eyes. “You were such a good friend to me. Loyal. You cared when no one else did. And I broke our trust. I ruined it.”

  Hen nodded. “Yes, you did.”

  “But I’m so happy for you and Andre. What I wanted most was for you to find someone who would be good to you, and he will.”

  Hen stared at Kitty for a long moment. “And that’s it?”

  “Well,” Kitty said. “Yes. That’s it.”

  “No helpful suggestions or muddling explanations? No reasons why I should forgive you?” Hen twirled a hand in the air. Her ring finger looked so different without a bulbous diamond on it.

  “No.” Kitty shook her head firmly. “I can’t think of any reason why you’d forgive me. I only wanted to apologize.”

  Hen laughed. “No ulterior motive? That’s not like you. What’s the scam?”

  “I know. You have every right to believe it’s a scam, because that’s who I have been. And you don’t have any reason to believe me, but it’s not who I’m going to be. Not anymore.”

  “I watched you do it so many times to other people. I convinced myself that your plans were always for someone else, never for me.” Hen’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to tell me the truth right now. Was this the first time I was part of one of your little schemes?”

  Kitty looked out the window. “It was.”

  “You never took advantage of me in any other way?”

  Kitty hesitated. She knew the only way to atone for what she’d done was to tell the whole truth about her plan. Hen would hate her, but there was no other way.

  “There’s more,” she said.

  “Oh, dear.” Hen winced.

  Kitty took a shaky breath. “I thought that once you and Charles had broken up, I would be with him.”

  Hen sat forward, her eyes hard. “Did you? That’s low, even for you.”

  All the explanations that might soften the confession tumbled around in Kitty’s head. I thought I could help you. I wanted to torment him, to pay him back. I wanted connections, I wanted what you have. But those were all excuses, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t offer any of those. Instead, she said, “You’re right.”

  Hen stood and paced the room. “Well, he’s on the market now. You can probably still land him if you want.”

  “He did ask me out,” Kitty admitted. “I turned him down.”

  Hen stopped but kept her eyes on the floor. “Why did you do that? You ought to at least get something out of this.”

  “I’d rather be alone than be with someone knowing that it would hurt you.”

  Hen pondered this for what felt to Kitty like hours. At last, she turned to Kitty. “Thank you for coming. I know how hard this must have been. Especially for you.”

  Kitty stood. “Thank you for listening.” She held Hen’s gaze for another moment, then turned to leave. She was at the library door when Hen called to her.

  “How are you, Kitty?” she asked, real concern in her voice. “You look tired.”

  Before, Kitty would have had a clever comeback for a comment like that. Now, she lowered her head. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Setting them right is going to be hard work.”

  “At least this time your heart was somewhat in the right place,” Hen said. “I do believe you thought I’d be better off without Charles. And I am happier now. I ought to at least grant you that. Besides, you wrote that letter to him explaining everything. You tried to come clean.”

  “I take it you never gave it to him?”

  “No reason to. I was finally rid of him.”

  Kitty turned back and offered a tentative smile. “What did your mother say when you told her about Andre?”

  “What didn’t she say? You should have heard her.” Hen straightened her shoulders. “She tried to throw the book at me. But you predicted it. Turns out she’s not quite as fierce when someone calls her bluff. I guess you did teach me to stand up for myself, in the end.”

  Kitty studied the rug under her feet. “I hope it’s not the end.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t mean things will be at all the same. But no sense throwing out the good with the bad.” Hen bit her lip. “You told me the truth. That counts for something.”

  “Maybe we could have lunch sometime. I am dying to hear how a ‘lumberjack’ stole your heart.” Kitty regretted the joke when Hen didn’t respond right away.

  “If we have lunch,” Hen said, “you’re paying. It only seems fair.”

  “And you choose the restaurant.”

  “You’re on,” Hen said.

  Kitty walked out of the apartment feeling lighter than she had in months. First step complete, she thought. Papa is next.

  “Katarina, you don’t have to set an appointment to see me. You can just come down, you know.”

  Kitty sat in her father’s office two days after her visit to Hen, flush with the excitement of her small initial success. “I know that, Papa. But I want to propose something important, and I wanted to set the right tone.”

  He smiled. “So it’s a meeting, then.”

  “It is.” She sat up straighter, fighting the itch to slip off her shoes.

  “Well, then, let me hear it. You’re looking to buy something more expensive than a dress this time?”

  “It’s more serious than a dress.” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose you’ve heard about Andre and Hen.”

  Her father sighed. “Ah, yes. So you want to know if this gets you out of our agreement. I don’t
know how you managed it—”

  “That wasn’t my doing. They enjoyed each other’s company, and I’m glad they found each other. But it’s true. I can’t marry Andre if he’s with someone else.”

  “I see. So you want to know if this gets you out of the other part of my plan.” He rubbed his chin. “It does. You’re free to do what you please. I guess you always were. I knew you’d find some way around me.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not it at all. I don’t want out.”

  Her father gaped. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”

  “You said it yourself. I know you’ll be around for a long time, but I can’t expect you to take care of me forever.”

  “This hotel will take care of you,” he said. “All of them. I would have liked to see you with Andre, but I was never serious about my daughter cleaning toilets. I had to think of something that might scare you. You must have known that.”

  “I thought so, if I’m being honest. But it doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

  He stared at her. “I’m lost. I think you need to explain better, because right now I’m hearing that you want to work in housekeeping.”

  “I need to be able to take care of myself, Papa. So I want to learn everything. I want to study with you, with Andre, maybe take a couple of college courses. I want to learn the business. The way I see it, if these hotels are meant to take care of me, I need to take care of them.”

  Her father snorted. “That’s absurd. College classes? I never meant for you to have to work. Where did all this come from?”

  “It came from a clearer understanding of how the world works. Things are changing, and I want to be part of it. I’m only going to be able to do that if I’m doing more with myself than going to cocktail parties and clubs.”

  “I did this. I put all this into your head by discussing the business with you these past few weeks.” He leaned over the desk. “You don’t have to work. This industry is complex and challenging. And I’m not going to let you be a secretary somewhere any more than I’m going to let you clean.”