by Joani Ascher
“You really shouldn’t put yourself down,” Anne continued, more softly, but clearly exasperated.
“I’m not. What are you talking about?”
“It’s the same thing as always. You don’t want to be on the board because the other people went to the best schools, live in the biggest mansions, and belong to the finest clubs. So poor little Janie, standing on her principles, won’t associate with them. That’s why you let Prescott go.”
“It is not! I never let him go. I never had him.”
“You would have, if you’d had enough confidence in yourself to notice anything about him other than his pedigree.”
Jane could not dispute that. She had not realized how fine a man Prescott was until it was too late. But that fine man had walked out on her when he learned of her promiscuity. And he had never returned. She could not fool herself. Their meeting at the restaurant had proved that. He still considered her a loose woman. Why else would he ask her out without his wife being present? Suddenly the absurdity of the situation got to her.
“Why are you laughing?” Anne asked.
“This is such a ridiculous conversation.”
“Look,” said Anne, as she packed the last of her trunks, “there is only one committee on which I’d like you to serve.”
“What is that?”
“A retarded children’s organization. They need your help. If we’re ever going to change how people think of children like Z.Z. and Irene, we’re going to have to work for it.”
That seemed reasonable. Besides, Jane felt she could hold her own, even among a bunch of snooty committee members. In addition, she figured anyone who would have a problem with children like Z.Z. and Irene would not be on such a panel.
“Okay.”
“Good, it’s all settled. Now we have to talk about Ellen’s clothing for school.”
Jane noticed that Anne had a fire in her eyes long missing. “Do you want to go with us to shop?” she asked.
“I want to do more than that. I want to buy everything Ellen needs. She may be going on scholarship, but she will be well dressed.”
By the time Anne and Jane finished buying everything on Ellen’s school list, from her uniforms to her party dresses, her Lanz nightgowns and bathrobe to her penny loafers and Papagallos, and had packed her trunks lovingly, there was little left to do. They had a farewell lunch at Schrafft’s and prepared to go their separate ways.
On September 2, 1960, when Ellen was exactly twelve, she left for boarding school in upstate New York. Anne left for Europe. Mr. Dobbin had moved permanently to Kansas, near his son.
Jane was alone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jane’s first committee meeting was two days after Anne sailed for Europe. It was set for five-thirty, so she went over after work.
There were women there from many walks of life, some even bringing their affected children. Jane thought her heart would break, especially when she saw a child of about six who could have been Z.Z.’s brother. He had colorful smudges on the side of his right hand and all the way up his elbow.
“He’s so adorable,” she said to his mother, who looked to be about Jane’s own age. Then she squatted down and smiled into the boy’s face. “Do you like to draw?”
The child beamed at her. “Yes!”
“What is your name?” Jane asked, standing back up.
“Tommy.”
“Tommy, my name is Jane. It’s nice to meet you.”
His mother shook Jane’s hand. “My name is Marie. It’s so nice to meet someone who thinks of my son as a person.” She looked around. “Or maybe everyone does, here. It’s my first time, and I don’t know what to expect.”
“It’s my first time too,” Jane admitted.
“Do you have a child like Tommy?”
Jane bit her lip. “I did,” she said, when the danger of tears had passed. “But he passed away.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Marie.
They were interrupted by the entrance of another person. The arrival caused the rest of the people in the room to take seats, and Marie, Tommy, and Jane followed suit. It was not until they were seated that she looked at the person facing them in front of the room.
He had aged over the years, and his hair had gone totally gray, but the fire in his eyes that she had seen the first time she met him remained stoked. Lloyd Hammer, still a motivating speaker at almost fifty, addressed the group.
“First of all,” he said, “I’d like to welcome the newest members of our group and thank them in advance for all their help. We hope to have a productive year and get the message out. Too many of our loved ones have been relegated to institutions out of ignorance. We’ve made progress, but there is more to do.”
A polite round of applause followed. Jane realized she had just sat, dumbfounded, throughout, only when she noticed Marie staring at her.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“Um, yes. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
Marie looked puzzled, but nodded.
When she turned back to the speaker, Jane allowed her mind to wander again. She was furious at Anne. How could she ask her to join a committee, no matter how important, that had Lloyd Hammer as its leader? But she had to suppress that anger, since she was almost positive Anne never knew who it was Jane had been involved with, who had left her alone and pregnant with Z.Z. She berated herself now for not telling Anne it was the man she had met that night they were dancing, so this moment could be avoided.
Leaning close to Marie, she said, “I’m sorry. I’ve got to leave.” Then she moved toward the door, keeping her head averted, so Lloyd could not see her face.
She made it out of the room and rang for the elevator. She put on her coat, even though she was so hot, and wondered how she would tell Anne she could not keep her promise. Maybe she could join another committee.
Her buttons done, she waited for the elevator. If it took another moment, she promised herself, she would go to the stairs. She had to get outside, fast.
“Jane?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. It couldn’t be. He was addressing the committee only a minute ago. Would he have just walked out on them?
“Jane.” He came to stand beside her. “It’s so good to see you. Why did you leave?”
“I have an appointment.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and started to turn her toward him. She shrugged it off, and turned, all her anger spilling out.
“How dare you touch me?”
“I’m sorry. But I wanted to talk to you.”
“I see things haven’t changed. You still think it’s all about what you want. It isn’t. I’m leaving.”
She turned back to the elevator, which had finally arrived, and got on, pushing the button for the ground floor. As the door started to close, Lloyd jumped inside.
“I know about Z.Z.,” he said.
Her insides turned to stone—or were they ripping apart? She was not sure, but she knew she could barely breathe. “How?”
“Your landlady. Mrs. McGill. I came by one day to see you, and she told me, or should I say berated me, all about my son. He had died only a few weeks before. I guess she never told you.”
Jane was stunned. “She never wanted to hurt me.” Her implication was clear, at least in her mind, but Lloyd seemed to miss her point.
“I wish you had let me see him.”
“You had no rights,” Jane said, feeling her anger build nearly to the breaking point. “You forfeited them all when you married someone else.”
“That was a mistake. I did it for my sister.”
The elevator had arrived on the ground floor. Jane got off, and turned back to Lloyd, who was still on it. “I know you love your sister—”
He interrupted her. “She died last year.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said. “But I loved our son. And you missed the joy of him.”
As the door closed, taking Lloyd back upstairs to his meeting, Jane thought she heard him
say something about regret. That, Jane thought, about summed it up.
****
The telephone connection from Denmark was scratchy, and Jane had difficulty making out what Anne was saying because of the constant echoes and delays while their voices traveled. “I’m so sorry,” came out loud and clear. As did, “I didn’t know, I swear. I honestly didn’t remember meeting him that night.”
That night at the Rainbow Room seemed like centuries ago to Jane, and she wondered how she could have been so blind and gullible with Lloyd.
“I forgive you,” Jane said. “Do you forgive me for quitting that committee?”
“I understand, let’s put it that way. Will you consider another one? It really needs your touch.”
“Are you sure it won’t involve any more nasty surprises?”
“Do you have any more secret paramours?”
Jane laughed. “No. My life is too boring.”
“That’s why you should work on this other committee. There are really nice people there, trust me.”
****
Jane surprised herself by enjoying her work on Anne’s second committee. She made several acquaintances and found herself more at ease with the rich and, as she had formerly considered them, indolent. They worked tirelessly to help set up financing and educate people on business, helping them to improve their prospects.
It turned out that many of the women with whom Jane volunteered admired her for the career she had pursued. She also discovered mutual interests with some of them, something she had never dreamed would exist. To her surprise, several of her preconceived prejudices had disappeared.
She was no longer alone. While she missed Ellen terribly, as well as Anne, Mrs. McGill, and Mr. Dobbin, there were so many other people to talk to she had little time to dwell on it. Her weekends, which she had expected to be her loneliest times while her loved ones were away, were still filled with lunches, shopping trips, museums, the theater, opera, and symphony, and the occasional date. And she enjoyed it.
****
In late October, Constance Merriam invited Jane to be her guest at a charity ball, promising she would have a wonderful time. Jane had helped Anne prepare to attend several, but this would be her first. She chose her gown with great care, had her hair and nails done, and got ready to go. It would have been more fun if Ellen or Anne had been there while she got ready, but she called each of them and told them about her dress, shoes, and purse. They both requested calls afterward.
Jane had chosen an ice blue gown with a jewel neck. Instead of the way she usually had it styled, her light brown hair was swept up in a chignon, and, since the hairdresser had put a rinse into it, the few silver strands she had found no longer showed. She put her stepmother’s pearls, “real Pearl’s fake pearls” as Olivia used to call them, around her throat and wore the long matching earrings.
Anne had long ago begged Jane to “fix yourself up, so the outside matches the inside, and stop saying Olivia was the pretty one.” When a saleswoman at Saks suggested a lipstick color, Jane dutifully bought it, along with her first mascara and a new rouge. She had watched Anne often enough to know the blending methods for her new makeup.
Amazingly, Jane’s face, which she had always thought of as mottled with freckles, looked smooth and even, once she had applied the foundation and powder. The end result pleased her.
The event was held at the Plaza Hotel, and when Jane arrived, the ballroom was full of tuxedoed gentlemen and jeweled women. She met with the group from her committee and their spouses. Several mouths fell open when she greeted them.
“You look marvelous,” Constance whispered. She wore a lace dress in a shade of lavender that Jane adored. “Look, everyone’s eyes are riveted on you.”
“Would you like a glass of Champagne?” someone asked.
“Why, yes,” said Jane, knowing she was blushing. She found herself looking at Douglas, a man she had met through her clients the Madisons. “Thank you.”
“You are the prettiest woman here,” he said, leaning close to her ear.
Douglas was a nice person, and Jane had enjoyed the time they’d spent seeing The Sound of Music. He seemed very interested in her, and while she did not return his ardor, and she had made that clear, they still enjoyed talking with one another. The cocktail hour sped by. Soon it was time to be seated for dinner.
“You’re sitting with us, Jane,” said Constance as they all walked into the dining room. “We made up almost three tables with just our committee. There will only be one or two outsiders.”
Jane had consumed so much Champagne she did not even think about who the outsiders might be. Douglas took her by the elbow and escorted her to her table. But when she was seated, the person next to her was none other than Prescott Weaver. He looked at her, then at the departing Douglas, and stood up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, to Constance, his hostess at the table. “I’ve just realized that I have to leave.”
Jane looked at his face and then his hand, which was next to hers on the table as he pushed away and stood. She put hers on top of his and murmured, “Please stay.”
He looked down at his hand covered by hers and then up, deep into her eyes, making her so uncomfortable she almost wished she had not stopped him from leaving. But he sat back down, smiled at the others and said, “Perhaps I can stay, after all.”
When the others had resumed their conversations, he leaned close to her. “I have to thank our friend Anne. She arranged this.” He sounded somewhat unsure about the outcome of her interference.
Jane had suspected as much. “From Istanbul?” she said, struggling to keep her voice from quavering.
“Is that where she is now?” He smiled. “I think she was in Italy at the time the seating arrangements were made.”
“She never said a word to me,” Jane said, wondering how she felt about her friend’s action. If she had known about it, Jane would not have allowed Douglas to accompany her into the dining room. She suddenly wanted nothing to intrude upon her sitting there, at that moment, with Prescott.
Once Jane had the time to look at Prescott, really look at him, she noticed how remarkably handsome he still was. More so, in a way. His frown lines were still noticeable, but his eyes had a determination in them she had not seen when they met that day in the restaurant. He looked sad.
She felt her heart go out to him. She might have been without a husband all these years, but she had many people to love and who loved her. Prescott did not seem to have had the same good fortune. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Prescott lowered his head. But he brought it right back up, and looked at her hopefully. “Would you like to dance?”
Putting her hand into his outstretched one, she stood up and smiled. “I would love to.”
They danced several waltzes, with Jane becoming more comfortable in his arms as each song progressed. When the music stopped, Jane clung to him, wishing it would continue.
“I think dinner is being served,” he said, into her ear. His voice sounded tight. “We should go sit down.”
Constance beamed as they rejoined the table. “I see you’ve met Mr. Weaver,” she said. “He has been so wonderful on our committee’s board of directors.”
Jane was impressed as Constance continued, outlining some of Prescott’s activities on the committee’s behalf. None of that would do a thing for his business, yet he had done it wholeheartedly. There was so much she did not know about this man.
“Anne told me you had agreed to join the retarded children’s committee,” he said when they were alone together again. They strolled through the lobby of the hotel, past the jewelry and clothing shops, past the florist and tobacconist, seeking a breath of fresh air on the sidewalk.
“There was a problem, a conflict,” said Jane.
“A different philosophy?”
“You might say that.”
“I went to a meeting this month. What exactly is it you don’t agree with?”
Jane decided to a
void his question as long as possible. “Why would you go to those meetings?” she asked.
“Because it is something that concerns me. I know how difficult it was for Anne, and for you.”
Jane did not say anything. She was trying too hard to fight her tears.
“I realized, too late,” said Prescott, “what a mistake I had made. I could have been a good husband to you, and a good father.” He turned Jane to face him. “I have chastised myself for my hotheadedness every day for the past ten years.” He laughed, but it was harsh and humorless. “First it took me nearly five years to grow up enough to realize my foolish pride,” he added, to explain the passage of over fifteen years since he’d walked out of her apartment in a rage.
“I made my share of mistakes, too,” said Jane.
“Don’t berate yourself. It’s happened to many people. You trusted the wrong person. If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll make him see—” He broke off. “What’s the matter?”
Jane was thinking about Prescott attending the retarded children’s committee meetings. If he knew Lloyd Hammer had contributed to their separation for all these years, Jane was afraid of what he might do. “I don’t need you to defend my honor. Please, forget about it.” She looked up into his eyes. “Can we start over?”
Prescott took her hand. His voice was husky when he said, “I think we had better go back inside.”
Maybe she had presumed too much about what he was saying. Maybe he just wanted to establish a friendship. But Jane didn’t want to go inside and have to make conversation. She wanted to be alone with Prescott. The thought sent shivers down her spine.
“Are you cold?” he asked. He took off his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders. As he did, his hand brushed against her exposed collarbone, and she felt weak in the knees.
Chapter Thirty
Anne’s promise to have Prescott seated with Jane had let him spend hours fantasizing about this evening. Tonight, his dreams had materialized. When he held Jane while they were dancing, he was the closest to bliss he had been since his return from the war.
Now, alone with her for the first time in decades, it was nearly torture having her here next to him. Those soft curls escaping from her hairstyle caused a long-forgotten itch to touch them, even after so much time and so much history. The years seemed to drop away, and he remembered how he’d felt when he came back from Europe, how she had looked and how she had felt when he held her close then. If only she wanted him. But it was so late for that.