“I love it. Both of them. Both perspectives.”
“As do I.” He turned on the bright light, and she closed her eyes, only to feel his lips seal each of her lids as he pulled her into himself in an embrace. “Because they both have you in them.”
Her stomach then rumbled at the most inopportune time, and he pulled back in that Jekyll and Hyde way he had of changing.
“You’re hungry.”
She felt embarrassed. “Well, yes.”
“Then I need to let you go.”
“Come with me. Is there a diner nearby or somewhere we can talk?” She did not want this afternoon to be over yet.
“I’m afraid not. Well, there is a diner. That’s not what I meant. But I’m afraid I can’t go with you. I have—I have some things I have to do.”
The mystery man.
He opened the door of the darkroom, and through the other room’s window she could see that it was already dusk. He walked her to the front door, and she felt a bit wounded at the unceremonious ending to an improbable day.
She turned to leave, but he held her arm. “I want you to know that you can come here anytime.”
To his apartment? Alice was only just now getting used to the idea that she’d come here in the first place.
“To the darkroom,” he continued, though she hadn’t uttered a sound. Maybe he’d read it in her eyes.
“What are the things you think about, my dreamer?” he asked.
It pleased her that he called her this. He recognized the piece of her that imagined herself to be elsewhere. Her parents seemed so very content with their domestic lives when she longed to be part of something bigger.
“I—I love old buildings.”
“Then get a camera—I’m sorry I only have this one at the moment, or it would be yours—but get a camera and take pictures of old buildings or anything else that you love. That room is yours to use as you need. Just—just don’t open that drawer there.”
He pointed to the top one on the desk.
She was stunned and full of questions. But she asked only one.
“Why?”
“I trust you, Alice.” She thought it was a funny way to respond. “Now, go.” He kissed her on the forehead in a way that felt like a dismissal.
But he wanted her to visit the darkroom again.
That meant she would see him soon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Alice arrived home, there were flowers waiting on the table.
Her mother stood in the kitchen, apron around her waist, stirring what smelled like her heavenly vegetable soup.
Vera clapped her hands when she saw her. “Oh, my dear, look what arrived for you!”
The flowers had been arranged in a brilliantly cut crystal vase that rivaled the beauty of the stems in them. The pink blossoms were paper-thin and layered in a seemingly infinite pattern. Their fragrance permeated the room. There must have been forty of them.
“What are they?” asked Alice.
“Peonies, darling,” said her mother. “I’ve only seen them in pictures, but they are even more exquisite than I could have imagined.”
She was right. Alice had never seen anything quite like them.
“Who are they from?” Alice stroked the exterior petal of one and was entranced by its softness.
“I don’t know. There’s a card, but I didn’t want to open it. It has your name on it.”
“My name? Who would send me flowers?” Emmett was the only one who came to mind, but it was unlikely, given his humble apartment, that he could afford a bouquet such as this. Wildflowers might be more his style, anyway.
Alice removed the card and read it.
Alice—
I have not stopped thinking about you since our dinner together at Delmonico’s. There was something so complete about the four of us sitting together like that. I believe I owe you an evening of stories, and I hope you would still like to go to dinner next Friday evening. I can come for you at seven.
William Pilkington
William Pilkington! She had not thought of him all day.
She showed the card to her mother, certain of what would happen next. Her mother lived to love and be loved. Alice ached to get out of New York and see the great buildings of the world. If she could ever do that, she might come back and get married and have children. But it was the furthest thing from her mind right now.
Vera pressed her hands to her face.
“Oh, dear Lord. My Will and my Alice. Together. Who would have thought? Oh, I cannot tell you the joy that this gives me. Wait until your father finds out.”
Alice wanted to ask her not to say anything, but she knew that there were never secrets between Angelo and Vera. Maybe that was the key to their happy marriage.
“Are you going to say yes?” Alice could see the anticipation in her mother’s face. How could she say no and crush her like that?
“Yes,” she found herself agreeing. But as much as she had enjoyed William’s company at dinner and would like to see him again, she still felt the heat of Emmett’s kisses.
Could a modern woman accept the pursuit of two men who were so very different from each other? Was this part of the new era that the suffragettes had fought for?
At precisely seven o’clock on the appointed evening, the knocker on their apartment door echoed. Her father answered the door and shared a hearty handshake with William. Alice felt her cheeks redden at the sight of him.
“Will. So good of you to bless us here.”
“You don’t know how nice it is for me to be here. It’s a welcome change from my g-grandparents’ home.”
Angelo slapped him on the back in that inexplicable way that men did. “It’s kind of you to say so, but you wouldn’t envy it if you had to sleep under five blankets in the winter and strip down to your skivvies in the summer.”
Alice rolled her eyes. What a word to say in front of a gentleman.
But William laughed. “I think I’d like to sleep in my skivvies, Angelo. I’d g-give quite a shock to my valet if he found me like that in the morning.”
The man had a valet? There were corners of wealth that Alice had never even considered.
After a bit more small talk with her parents, William turned to her and held out his arm. “Shall we go, Alice?”
She glanced at her mother. Vera looked as if she might burst with pride over this pairing. Alice felt that same lump in her throat that suggested guilt over having dinner with William when she’d shared a kiss with Emmett—a kiss that had kept her awake ever since. But they had no promises between them, nor had she seen him since. He hadn’t come by the newsstand, and she could not bring herself to go to his apartment unannounced, despite the invitation.
Maybe she was a little more traditional than she thought.
She took William’s arm, a gesture that immediately felt comfortable. Alice could feel her mother’s eyes on her back as they headed to the stairwell. Vera closed the door behind them.
What must William Pilkington think of their apartment? Neat but worn, tall and without an elevator, cramped in a way that could almost be called cozy.
They stepped out into the bustle of Thirty-Third Street, where the eagles atop Penn Station looked down at her. She liked to think of them as her guardians. Her mother told her that she’d always thought the same thing. Solid, resolute, everlasting. They provided a security that the world could never promise.
A light-blue car with white-and-black tires and a folded creamy canvas top was parked right in front of the building, and William walked toward it. Alice expected a chauffeur to step out, but William opened the door next to the driver’s seat for her and walked around to let himself in by the steering wheel.
He must have read her mind. “I gave the driver the evening off,” he said. “I hope you d-don’t mind, but I really prefer to drive myself.”
“I don’t mind,” she answered. And in fact, she was in awe as she looked at all the different parts of the car here in the front. She’d only been in
a vehicle a few times in her life—taxis, at that—and never in the front. But she would be embarrassed to let on what a treat it was.
“Have you ever driven a car?” He put leather gloves on his hands, then began to pull away from the curb.
“No, but I think I’d like to someday.”
“Would you like for me to t-t-teach you?”
Teach her! The idea had never crossed her mind, but the thought intrigued her.
“I think I would like that. Yes!”
“Then let’s make a plan to do just that.”
They drove twelve blocks north, a distance that Alice could have easily covered in less time than it took to drive in traffic. Williams maneuvered around slower cars and waved as they passed them. Alice laughed and followed his lead, cupping her hand like Princess Elizabeth might. As they progressed, William explained the various components of the car—the clutch, the transmission, bumpers, fenders, headlights. She tried to memorize them all.
“This is one of the rare new models available,” he explained, caressing the leather-clad steering wheel with obvious pride. “The war has put a halt on automobile manufacturers being able to use aluminum, so it’s been replaced with c-c-cast iron for the pistons, which, of course, means that they had to make heavier crankshafts and r-rod bearings.”
It was as if he were speaking something other than English, but Alice enjoyed watching him talk about something that animated him like this. By the time they arrived, she’d learned more than she’d ever expected to know about the subject—heat gauges, headlights, wind silencers.
“I’m af-fraid I’ve dominated the conversation,” he apologized as white linen napkins were laid across their laps at the restaurant. His hair was disheveled from the drive, but the fact that he was unaware of it held a kind of charm. “I’m a b-bit n-n-nervous, as you m-might be able to tell.”
“Why, William? There’s no need to be nervous around me.”
He took a deep breath and said each word with deliberation. “You’re quite beautiful, Alice Bellavia.”
“Thank you.”
The waiter filled crystal goblets with ice water and presented the menus. It was only the second time Alice had eaten in such a place—Delmonico’s being the first—and she found it difficult to keep the calm decorum that belied the anticipation inside her at such offerings.
“Do you know what is interesting about this restaurant?” William asked. He must be relaxing. His speech was steadier.
“What is that?”
“This is the one your mother was talking about. How she and my mother ate together at its predecessor, Maioglio Brothers, once.”
How thoughtful of him to have remembered.
“I want to bring them back here.” His voice quieted. “And you. I’m—I’m glad you were able to be there th-that evening. And here.”
“So am I.” William had kind eyes, a gentle demeanor. He was everything a girl like her was supposed to want. She looked at his lips and the hesitant smile that they hid. A kiss from William might be a lovely experience. Like a sweet bowl of cream. Whereas Emmett’s kiss—Emmett’s kiss was fire.
She upbraided herself for comparing the two. She tried to put Emmett out of her mind and give William her full attention.
“Do you know what the occasion was that brought our mothers to Maioglio?” Alice asked.
“I asked Vera about it later. According to her, m-my mother—Pearl—wanted her to leave her job in a factory and be a kind of nanny for me. That way Pearl would be free to fight the g-g-good fight, as they say.”
She had heard that part of the story from her parents. Alice wondered if he had any resentment at being handed off to someone else. But then, in his world, that was probably a common thing.
“I know my mother cared for you like you were her own son. She often said so.”
“I don’t remember everything about that time. I was very young. But I have always had a sense of being well nurtured and even loved. Before I went to live with my grandparents.”
Alice tore off a piece of the rosetta roll that had been placed before them. “She is that. All love. I’m very fortunate.”
“You are. I don’t remember much about my real parents. Well, nothing about my father. Little about my mother. I was old enough to go with Vera to the prison in Albany, but she d-didn’t allow me to see Pearl, and maybe that was just as well. Growing up with my grandparents and great-grandmother was not an experience to be envied.”
“That’s a little difficult to believe, if I’m honest, William.” She dipped the bread in a dish of olive oil. Was this what Italy tasted like? If so, it was delectable. “My father has to stand all day at work with only one leg. My mother works at Macy’s and at our newsstand to help out and had to sacrifice her hopes of being a painter. In our position, dreams are elusive things, rarely realized.”
William shifted in his chair. “I wouldn’t even pretend otherwise, and when the day comes where I am in a position to direct the decisions for our company, I hope to ease the burdens of all we employ. But that d-doesn’t mean that where I was raised was void of sadness. As a boy, I dreamed of having a mother and a father to come home to. Who would read to me by a fireplace and make me hot milk when I was sick. I had none of those things. Only a foul-breathed governess.”
She didn’t point out that he could probably buy his own railroad company and become a train conductor like he’d always wanted to. But she sensed that he was trying to find points of commonality to her, across the abyss that stretched between their very different lives.
Alice smiled. “William, I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you went quite a long time there with barely a trace of a stutter. Does it really come and go like that?” She knew it was forward to say that to someone who was still something of a stranger, but he could just as well have been her brother had things not taken the course they did.
He smiled. “You’re right. I feel like I can tell you anything, dear Alice.”
He reached across the table and touched her hand. It warmed her throughout her body—a gentle glow rather than a raging flame. But it was pleasant. Welcome. She didn’t pull away.
“What I m-mean is that I’ve never felt like I fit anywhere. Those early years must have made a bigger impact than I thought. Wh-when I saw Vera and Angelo again and met you and we went to D-Delmonico’s, it was—” He pulled his hand back and sighed. “It was like I found home.”
Alice understood what he meant. The four of them together, seated around that table. There was a rightness to it. Like a puzzle that had been completed.
“You—you are lucky, Alice.”
“Lucky?” This from the man who drove a gorgeous automobile and paid for expensive dinners and lived like few ever would.
“To have the luxury of love.” His eyes looked saddened.
“You think love is a luxury?” Maybe she’d taken her family for granted. But she could think of other luxuries that she would enjoy. The opportunity to travel and to be a student who didn’t have to work, and to be regarded as equal to any man despite being a woman of humble means.
“Yes. The love of a mother and a father. The love of family. The love of—w-well, the l-l-l-love of s-someone you c-care about.”
His stutter was more pronounced then, and Alice had started to see its pattern. Where she was concerned, it seemed to make a frequent appearance.
She made him nervous.
It occurred to her that knowing these two men enlightened her understanding of her own femininity. With Emmett, she discovered that she could provoke intense sensual reactions in a man. With William, she was beginning to realize the very real power that womanhood wielded—his speech patterns were only a symptom of a larger influence.
It was a heady thought—that women possessed a quiet power that was a greater force than men might ever acknowledge.
William continued. “Yes, Alice. L-love is a luxury. Food and shelter may sustain a p-person, b-but what kind of life is worth h-having if it is
not shared?”
She met his gaze and felt as if she could get lost in his caring eyes.
Maybe men held the balance of the power after all. What a delight true equality between partners could be.
“So, then,” Alice responded, “would the perfect life be that in which there are no concerns about money and one that has the abundant love of family?”
William sat back and smiled. He rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling before returning to face her. “Now, that does seem as if one would have no r-reason for sorrows. But wealth can be lost, loved ones can pass away, and p-perhaps the ache of having had them and then lost them is worse than never having had them at all.”
“Money or family?”
“Either. Both.”
There was depth to William that she was eager to discover. He was not merely the man in the fine wool coat driving the expensive automobile. She was tired enough of being judged on her own status. She owed him the same consideration.
Alice laid her hands in her lap and responded to William’s words. “I wouldn’t want money so that other people can do things for me that I’m quite capable of. In fact, there’s a kind of satisfaction in work. But I would treasure the opportunity to have time to explore all things I am interested in if there weren’t quite so many responsibilities. This is especially true for women. We have more dimensions and, I daresay, passions than what we are allowed to voice.”
William leaned in. His broad shoulders were the width of the tiny table, and the thought came to her that it would be a welcome thing to be embraced by him.
“Well, although I was so little when my mother died, I know well enough the sacrifices she made for women’s suffrage, and I believe my parents’ causes run through my blood, though my grandparents tried their best to l-leech them out of me.”
Oh, dear William. He really was born of both worlds. He didn’t even seem to know quite where he fit.
Alice grinned. “And do you bear the marks of their bites?”
“My g-grandparents’ or the leeches’?”
They both began to laugh loudly enough that other patrons looked over their shoulders at them, but their attempts to stifle it were half-hearted.
The Way of Beauty Page 26