by Sofia Grant
Very soon, she’d be with her parents again—and she wouldn’t have to go through all the awful pain and bother that her doctor had hinted at. She wouldn’t have to spend days lying under a machine, losing her hair and throwing up, wasting away until she was just a ghost in her own bed, her poor boys having to watch her disappear before their eyes. Sometimes Vi thought that doctors believed they’d failed if they didn’t use every new trick and pill they’d discovered just to keep you alive. But staying alive was not the same as living, something that had taken Vi far too long to learn. Now that the moment had arrived, peace had settled around her like a beautiful silk shawl.
Yes, she wished that she could be there on her boys’ wedding days. She wished she could hold her grandchildren in her arms. But if heaven truly was awaiting her—and Vi had no reason to believe it wasn’t—then she’d be able to watch over them, the failures of her body nothing but a memory. She was looking forward to a deeper knowledge of God, to the answers to some questions that, frankly, the Church had never answered to her satisfaction.
She wouldn’t miss having to deal with Harry, either. It was funny—once she’d made up her mind, it was like a switch had been flicked: she felt nothing for Harry, other than mild contempt and embarrassment. And that poor girl! Once Vi reached heaven, she would remember to put in a good word for the girl too—her work was cut out for her if she really intended to marry Harry.
Vi had come to the curve in the river where the water rushed over boulders and then emptied into a deep pool, a place known for good trout fishing. It was as good a place as any. She started to take off her shoes and then stopped, laughing at herself. She looked out over the dark water, the stars reflected like bits of confetti floating on the surface.
Vi had just one regret, one thing she wished she’d been able to fix—and that was Francie. Dear Francie, like the other half of her own heart, who’d been there for every joy and sorrow that mattered, who’d offered every kind of help when she needed it and treated her boys like her own and never stopped making her laugh. Francie, whose own secret sorrow seemed deeper these days, as though it had gotten hold of her legs and was trying to pull her under the surface. As close as they’d been, she and Francie both kept secrets from each other, and now Vi wished they hadn’t. Arthur, for instance—Vi had suspected for years, and a nasty rumor among the St. Isidore’s women’s club had all but confirmed it, but Francie never said a word. And yet, Vi didn’t believe that Arthur was the source of Francie’s sadness, at least not entirely. Her dear friend was like a beautiful tree that had been cut off from the sun, its branches beginning to grow stunted as they searched for the light they needed to thrive.
Earlier tonight, when Vi had thrown her penny into the river, she hadn’t made a wish at all—she wouldn’t need wishes where she was going. She’d said a prayer instead, a simple one: Thank you, dear Lord, for Francie.
And for June too, she’d added as an afterthought. Meeting her on the train had been a stroke of luck. Vi had immediately seen that she would be good for Francie—giving her a project, something to distract her once Vi was gone. And it was nice to be able to do one last act of kindness for someone in need, especially since Harry would be forced to foot the bill.
But even if Francie had company during her time in Reno, Vi knew that there would be difficult days when her grief and loneliness would be overwhelming. It broke Vi’s heart to know that she wouldn’t be there to comfort Francie; somehow, that was even worse than knowing that her own life was coming to its end.
“I’ll never leave you, Francie,” Vi whispered, the very best promise she could make. She would watch over Francie every day of the rest of her life. Francie would be furious that Vi hadn’t told her what she planned to do, but in time she’d come to understand it was the only way. And maybe, in time, she’d find something to fill the hole Vi was leaving behind, find happiness and even love again.
All right. It was time. With one last look at the mountains, the moon, the shimmering stars reflected in the water, Vi stepped off the bank and onto her journey home.
Epilogue
Three months later
June took a last look around the little attic room that had once housed servants, making sure everything was perfect. The old iron bed was made up with a quilt sewn by Francie’s grandmother. A vase filled with asters from the garden sat on the nightstand, along with some books Alice had loved when she was in middle school. The old chevalier mirror had been polished to a shine, and fresh eyelet curtains had been hung in the window, through which she could see all of San Francisco laid out below.
June had already checked the guest rooms on the third floor, which, starting tomorrow, would be filled with relatives and friends in town to celebrate Alice’s wedding. But the little attic room was reserved for Virgie, who was taking her first train ride all by herself tomorrow morning. June would meet her at the station, after which they’d go straight to the dress shop to try on her junior bridesmaid dress so it could be altered in time for the wedding in two days, when Virgie would join Margie and Evelyn and June herself in a row of lavender tulle at the altar.
The bridal couple would spend their wedding night at the St. Francis hotel before flying to Paris, and upon their return in three weeks, they would be moving to a slightly larger apartment in Reginald’s building. The week following the wedding, movers would come and start boxing up a lifetime of memories, much of it going to auction while only Francie’s very favorite things would be delivered to a charming little cottage on Bush Street. Jimmy had made a halfhearted offer for Francie to come live with them once the baby was born, and Margie had made a more enthusiastic offer, with the assumption that Francie would help with her three, but Francie wasn’t ready to be a full-time grandmother yet. At least, that’s what she’d told June, and judging by the pace she’d kept since returning to the city, she meant it: she’d joined a women’s literary club and bought a bicycle, and her friend Helen from Reno was coming for a long visit after the move.
June had stayed on in Vi’s suite until the day Francie stood before the judge to receive her divorce decree, with June and Patty and Mrs. Swanson and some of the ladies they’d befriended in the audience. The most surprising witness, perhaps, was Willy Carroll, who’d stayed in Reno after her divorce was finalized because she’d picked up a regular gig as a Skylette, one of the chorus girls who performed at the Mapes Hotel. She still sang at Gwin’s from time to time, and she and Francie and Helen often went out after her performances.
June rarely joined them, because her bookkeeping gigs kept her busy during the day, and she spent her evenings with Patty, who remembered her kidnapping only as a “scary day” and never mentioned her father at all. Stan’s body had been shipped back to Bakersfield, where he apparently still had family he’d never told June about, and shortly after that she’d received a letter from one of them threatening to sue her for Stan’s pension. Since June hadn’t even realized that she was entitled to it, she dug up the business card the old lawyer from the train had given her on the day she ran away, and Mr. Wheeler had made quick work of crushing the distant relative’s hopes and getting the pension checks sent to June.
She hadn’t told Francie yet, but Mr. Wheeler had offered her a job. He was leaving the bulk of his practice in the hands of his son, but planned to see a few clients from his home office. June would handle his schedule and billing and even, according to Mr. Wheeler, learn to file briefs and research cases. In exchange he would pay her a sum that would cover her expenses twice over and allow her to begin saving for Patty’s future.
Francie had promised June that she could live with her as long as she liked—after planning Alice’s wedding, there would be Evelyn’s baby shower and then the holidays would be upon them, and while the spare bedrooms in the cottage weren’t nearly as opulent as those in the big house, there was plenty of room for both her and Patty. But they both knew that June’s future lay elsewhere. For one thing, Charlie had been calling on her at the house
several nights a week, eventually giving up the pretense that he was checking on Francie or dropping books off for Alice.
June closed the door and made her way carefully down the steep attic stairs. She found Alice and Francie in the library, where they had given up on flashcards and were sitting on the floor with Patty, working on a puzzle.
“Mama, I found a piece!”
“And look, here’s another one,” Alice said, handing her a puzzle piece and pointing to the hole where it would fit. “You’re so clever!”
“Alice, you’re due at the caterers’ in half an hour!” June scolded. “They really must finalize the menu today. I’ll clean this up—you go on ahead.”
“I can’t bear another boring discussion about hors d’oeuvres,” Alice grumbled. “I wish I’d agreed to have the reception at the Little Shamrock the way Reggie wanted.”
“With corned beef sandwiches and sawdust on the floor?” Francie teased. “Your father would have a heart attack.”
“That reminds me,” June said. “Arthur called and wants to discuss the band’s set list.”
“I wish he’d just decide,” Francie said. “I really don’t care at this point.”
“Silly me, thinking I’d be asked my opinion,” Alice said mildly.
“Darling, we just wanted to narrow it down for you. Given your studies and—”
“—and writing thank-you notes for my shower and asking Reggie’s mother to tea—yes, Mother, it’s all under control.”
After Alice left and the library was tidied and the housekeeper had taken Patty to the park, June asked Francie if she would join her in the office for a moment. They had turned Arthur’s former office into a headquarters for wedding planning, and the credenza was stacked with the gifts that had been delivered and the desk covered with fabric swatches and seating charts and lists, but June had cleared the papers off the two armchairs in the bay window in preparation for this moment.
Once they were seated, she took a deep breath.
“Francie, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I didn’t really ask you in here to go over the RSVPs.”
“You didn’t?”
“No . . . there’s something I want to give you, before the wedding.”
She reached in her pocket and took out the little box. “I had it cleaned, but you’ll probably need to get it sized.”
Francie took the box and lifted the tiny lid. “Vi’s ring!” she exclaimed. “How did you . . . ?”
“It’s a long story, actually. I didn’t know about the ring until a few days after the funeral. Apparently Vi hid it in my toiletry kit that night before we went to dinner. I think . . . I’ve thought about it a lot, and what I keep coming back to is I think she wanted me to sell it so I’d have a little money to start over.”
“That sounds exactly like something she’d do.”
“But then the ring was—well, like I said, it’s a long story. It was found by someone who thought it had been stolen, and that person kept it safe, and when they realized they had made a mistake, they asked me to give it back to the rightful owner. Which is you, Francie. You should have it.”
“Me? But Vi wanted you to have it.”
“No, Vi wanted me to have a fresh start—and I’ve had that, thanks to you. I have everything I need. Besides, the jeweler appraised it and it isn’t worth nearly as much as some of Vi’s other jewelry, so I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind, and I already asked Charlie and he agrees you should have it.”
“It had belonged to her grandmother, and it was the only nice thing her mother owned, and Vi hardly ever took it off.”
“Try it on, Francie.”
Francie was only able to squeeze it past the first knuckle of the ring finger of her right hand, which made her laugh. “She was so darn skinny. You and her both—appetites like little birds.”
“Charlie would disagree. He says he’s never seen a girl eat as much as I do.”
“He does, does he?” Francie said shrewdly. “Then moving to Reno is probably a good decision on his part—restaurants are so expensive here.”
“He told you?” June said, blushing.
“Of course he did, darling. But not until Harry called first, wanting to know if I’d put Charlie up to it.”
“Oh no,” June said. “He predicted that Harry wouldn’t take it well.”
“He didn’t,” Francie said cheerfully, “but that’s his problem. Honestly, he should be grateful that Charlie is setting up in Reno and won’t be his competition.”
Well, all the cats were out of the bag, it appeared. It was just as well; June wasn’t a big fan of secrets.
“Speaking of Charlie,” Francie said, “isn’t he taking you to dinner tonight?”
“My goodness, you seem to know everything!” June laughed. “Yes, Alice is watching Patty tonight. I’m meeting some of his friends and their wives.”
“Then you should knock off a bit early. I’ll make myself scarce—I’m going over to Arthur’s to figure out these darn RSVPs.”
“There’s no need,” June said, embarrassed. “Please don’t leave on our account.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Francie tucked the ring back into the box. “Nights like this are meant to be savored. Hold on to them as best you can—before you know it, you’ll look back and wonder where the years went. June, I . . . I can’t thank you enough. For the ring, yes, but for everything you’ve done for me. When I first went to Reno, I felt like I had nothing to look forward to. And then Vi died and I thought I’d never care about anything again. But I do. I do care—I almost can’t believe it, but I’m looking forward to the future. I worried about all the wrong things, I think. Please don’t make the same mistake.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you! I don’t even want to think about where I’d be without you. I’ll miss you so much.”
“I’ll be there so often you’ll get sick of me,” Francie teased. “I need to make sure Patty’s keeping up with her studies and that lawyer is treating you well. Now off you go, I need to take over the desk and find all the responses to take to Arthur’s.”
June left the office, taking one last fond look at Francie, glasses perched on her nose, poring over the papers on the desk, before she closed the door.
A year ago June had been lying in the hospital with a broken pelvis and a fractured eye socket, wondering if she’d survive Stan’s next beating. It had taken months to save enough to leave, but she’d done it—and instead of a cramped room she had to share with Patty, she was living in a mansion, wearing clothes from I. Magnin, and Patty played with the children of millionaires. And yet, the biggest change in June was on the inside, where hope had somehow taken root and flourished, and her heart had healed enough to love again.
June headed to her room to start getting dressed. On the way, she paused at the hall table covered in framed photos and picked up her favorite. In it, a younger Francie and Vi were sitting on a sofa in front of a Christmas tree while all five children played on the floor at their feet. The photographer had captured them in a private moment, Vi’s head thrown back in laughter while Francie watched her with a look of pure love in her eyes.
Once, long ago, June had thought she knew how life should go: You met a boy, you married, you had a child. You stayed with each other through good times and bad, and someday you grew old together and were buried side by side, together for all eternity.
Her life hadn’t gone that way. But somehow, it had turned out better than she’d ever dared hope. Maybe the trick was to stop guessing what would come next and just think about the moment you were in, the only one you could ever really enjoy anyway.
June returned the photo to its place and forgot all about it as she went to her room and started getting ready. She was a bit nervous about meeting Charlie’s friends, despite his assurances that they would all adore her. She considered and abandoned half a dozen dresses in her closet, all of them purchased in posh department stores and tailored beautifully and paid for by Francie, before catching sigh
t of jade-green silk in the very back of the closet. She pulled out the dress that Vi had loaned her to wear to dinner the day they met, the only one of Vi’s dresses that she’d kept after sending the rest of her things to the Assistance League.
June went to the mirror and held the dress up to her body, remembering how unsure of herself she’d been that night, astonished at the generosity of perfect strangers. She unzipped her day dress and laid it on the bed, and as she pulled on Vi’s dress, she caught a faint scent of perfume and powder. She smoothed the full skirt over her hips and slipped on her highest heels, a far cry from the old, scuffed black shoes she’d worn that night, and then she slowly turned in front of the mirror. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Vi was with her in that moment.
There were times when June felt as if she were an entirely different person now, one who looked forward without fear, who felt cherished for the first time since her mother had died, who’d discovered talents and skills she never knew she had. And she owed it all to someone she’d known less than a single day. June would never know what Vi had seen in her, why she had placed her faith in her—or if she even knew the magnitude of the gift she’d given her.
The doorbell chimed and June turned away from the mirror. Charlie was never late—he said he couldn’t bear to miss a single moment with her. She picked up her evening bag, slipped in her comb and lipstick and a handkerchief, and started downstairs, where she would kiss Patty, say goodbye to Alice, then slip her hand into Charlie’s and head out into a night filled with promise.
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