Chapter Twenty-three, part one

The temperature inside the yacht club had to be ten degrees higher than outside it, Charlie thought. Surely that was the cause of the heat inside his jacket, not the fact that he been traveling for hours in anticipation of reaching Violet, a moment that was now at hand.

“I see her, sir,” Anna was saying. “Oh, she’s wearing the prettiest pink dress. Very fetching. You’re a lucky man, sir.”

“Don’t count me lucky yet,” he replied. “There’s many a slip twixt the cup and lip. She may kick me to the curb, no matter how hard I try. Will you take me to her?”

His jacket brushed against people as they worked through the crowd. Anna paused. Charlie’s heart hammered—the noise and the crush of people was overwhelming.

“You came back.”

And there it was. Violet’s velvet voice, as lush and comforting as it had been the first time he’d heard it, two weeks before.

“I didn’t think you would come back.”

He raised his hands until he found her—her waist, her hands. “I couldn’t bear the thought of going one more night without dancing with you.”

Her hand curled over his. She nestled her body close, and a tightness in his ribs loosened, slackening for the first time since he’d driven away from her.

They moved together in silence, serenaded by the sounds of merry making around them. Bit by bit, Charlie felt his brain relax. She hadn’t pushed him away. Hadn’t told him to go. Hadn’t been cold or awkward or even hesitant. Hell, she hadn’t been dancing with Earl, which he’d told himself a million times was the situation he should expect.

He breathed in the scent of her hair. Brushed his fingers across the small of her back. Pink. Anna had said she was wearing pink. Now, don’t blow it, he told himself. Make her proud. Be the man she deserves.

“Did the suffrage meeting turn out well? As well as you hoped it would?”

“Yes! It was a rather long day, but in the end the members approved the platform and bylaws. Everything will move forward to the vote in Chicago next week. It was really quite thrilling. And the agendas looked terrific. Very formal.”

“Good, I’m so glad. I thought of you on Monday and hoped for the best.”

They glided to the music. Charlie marveled at the way he could be with her in a crowd and feel that they were the only people in the room.

“How did your appointment go?” she asked.

“Not well.” He was surprised by the lightness in his own voice. “There’s no hope for a change. This is my visual circumstance now.”

“I know that isn’t what you were hoping for. I’m sorry for that.”

He shrugged. “At this point, it pales in comparison with other things, things that are at the top of my mind.” He let his feet slow. “When I left, you told me I should go and not come back. Are you sorry that I’ve returned?”

“No. I’m glad to see you.” Her voice sounded warped, like an out-of-tune string.

“But not without reservation?”

“Things have happened— My fortunes have changed. For the worse.”

“Financially?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s no issue. I can help with that. You and Sadie both.”

Her dance steps faltered. “It may not be an issue to you, but it’s one to me. When I meet a husband in marriage, I want to come as an equal, not as someone accepting charity.”

He nodded. “I understand you better than you can imagine. All the time we’ve known each other, I’ve struggled with that exact feeling of inequality, inferiority. Neediness. And what have you said every time I’ve hinted at those feelings? That it didn’t matter to you.”

“And it doesn’t.”

“Yes! Hard as that is for me to believe, I need you to believe the same words when I say them. Your financial position means nothing to me. It doesn’t change your ability to stand beside me, as a true equal, in any way.”

She made a sniffing sound, and in another moment pulled her hand away, perhaps to dab at her eyes. He fumbled through his pockets for a handkerchief but found none.

“I need the ladies’ room,” she whispered. She pulled away, then a second later he felt her breath on his cheek. “Don’t leave again.”

Her footsteps clicked away, and he was alone.

–

Violet sobbed against her hands, hidden in a toilet stall. Charlie—back again!

Uncorked feelings swirled inside, sweet with salty, bitter with tart. He was here! He was here, and she still had no money to speak of. She still had Sadie to worry about. Her fears were as potent as they had ever been, and yet he’d appeared like that, come to her like that, said he needed to dance with her—like that!

She wasn’t even sure why she was crying except that everything seemed to flood over its banks, and her hands couldn’t put them back in the channel. In another minute she blew her nose, put water on her face, and straightened her shoulders.

It was probably time to take a page from Inez Milholland Boissevain’s book and tell him exactly what she wanted. In the meantime, she should check on Sadie. Perhaps if she and Floyd were willing to be patient, and if they could repair things with his parents, in a year or so they might just make a go of it.

She exited the ladies room into a crowd of tipsy merry makers, none of whom she recognized. But there was Alva, waving her over.

“My dear,” Alva said, steering her out to the veranda where the music was muffled. “I’ve been looking for you. First, you’ll be at the séance tomorrow, won’t you?”

“About that,” Violet said, “I hate to disappoint you, but I wondered if Sadie and I could skip this one. She’s been going through a trying time. I could barely get her to come out this evening. It may be too much for her.”

Alva’s dark eyes scrutinized her face. “A trying time for both of you, I think. I saw your demeanor at the meeting yesterday. What’s happened?”

Violet hesitated. When she’d told Alva about Sadie’s gambling before, Alva had brushed it off in a way only the excessively wealthy could do. But Alva had also been quick to ask how much Sadie had lost. She’d understand the change in circumstances this time.

“Sadie lost more at the card table that I could have thought possible.”

“How much?”

“Three thousand.” Violet paused, listening to the slide of the inky waves below the veranda. “We’ll have to sell the New York apartment.”

“Good gracious. To whom did she lose this money?”

“To Reggie.”

“Reggie Vanderbilt?”

Violet nodded.

“The cad! Plundering my own guests—and his mother’s! Three thousand isn’t the work of one night. He fleeced the girl. Oh, my stars. I suppose this is why you haven’t signed on to join us in Chicago?”

“Yes. It’s taken all my wits just to keep an eye on Sadie and figure out what to do—”

Her words were cut off by a crash inside the yacht club. She and Alva—and everyone else—ran to the French doors to peer inside. Violet gasped. Sadie sat on the floor surrounded by broken glasses and a pool of champagne. Her skirt was half soaked, her stockings were showing, and she seemed to be somewhere between laughing and crying.

Violet fought with the doors and pushed her way through the crowd. Where was Floyd? Where were any of their friends? A circle of people stood gawking around the mess, some brushing at champagne that had splattered their skirts or trouser legs. Violet shoved her way through to Sadie, who looked up at her with the same anguish she’d had at age five when she’d fallen down and scraped her knee. At the sight of Violet, her face crumpled.

Servants, thank heaven, arrived quickly with brooms and dustpans. Violet got Sadie onto her feet and guided her to the ladies room. The instant the door closed behind them, Sadie collapsed into tears.

Violet held her, and mopped her with towels, and picked broken glass off her skirt. Sadie’s palms were bleeding, and she was shaking, so Violet sat her down on a toilet seat and ran for bandages and gauze. This time she tried to keep her ministrations calm and methodical. Cuts first, clothing second, and in the meanwhile she listened to Sadie’s tale of woe.

“Floyd was here—did you see him? Do you know, I haven’t heard a word from him since we eloped, not one word. We’re legally still married, and not one word!”

Violet peered at her sister. Sadie was well past tipsy in addition to injured and embarrassed. It made for passionate story telling.

“Let me tell you,” Sadie went on, “I was angry, but I was also so glad to see him. You can’t imagine how my heart jumped. And he wanted to dance, so we danced. He asked me how I was. I said I’d been pretty cut up, especially because he hadn’t telephoned or visited or anything. He said that wasn’t his fault, that his parents had kept him on a short leash and that his father was even talking about sending him up to Boston to work for his uncle. Can you imagine! Sending him away from me as if I was some kind of gold digger? So, I said that to him, those very words. And can you believe what he said? His face got all red and he said, ‘Aw, geez Sadie, when I told my parents how much money you’d lost to Reggie, that’s exactly what they thought.’ Do you hear that? He told them! Here I am, dying of shame for having lost that money, and instead of protecting my honor and standing up for me in front of his parents, he went and told them!”

Sadie was panting heavily. Violet, attempting to squeeze her skirt dry between two towels, just shook her head. What was there to say?

“So,” Sadie went on, “that’s when I slapped him.” She held up her bandaged palms. “I know, I know, it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I was so incredibly angry. And I got my own punishment, didn’t I? Because I hit him so hard, I toppled over backward right into that tower of champagne glasses. The whole thing came down around me.”

“Why wasn’t Floyd there to pick you up?”

Tears pooled in Sadie’s blue eyes. “Gone! He was gone. I don’t think he’ll ever come back.”

“I hate to say this, but that might be for the best.”

“Oh, Vi!” Sadie’s arms flailed drunkenly. “I don’t know how I can have made such a muck of things in just two weeks. I’m a disaster. I’m worse than hopeless. You should disown me and find a new sister.”

“Of course, you aren’t. Sadie, you’re seventeen. You’re young. Everyone makes mistakes when they’re young.”

“You didn’t. Not like this.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be home tomorrow. We can quiet down and get everything straightened out. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Sadie leaned down and pressed her face against the wet fabric over her knees. “It’ll be okay because you’ll do it. Nothing I do turns out right. Ever.”