Empire Girls

by Suzanne Hayes

  “We have roommates,” Rose whispered, pointing to a closet cut into the middle of the far side wall. Through it another room could be seen. I spotted two female figures moving to and fro, but it was like I was peering at them through the wrong end of the telescope. The gals noticed me and squealed, and they both darted through the slim passageway, fluttering into our room like birds escaping the nest.

  One had brown hair that would be mousy, had it not been cut in the most precise bob I’d ever seen. She introduced herself as Maude. The other’s hair was blond, not golden, like Rose’s, but honey-colored, as though she’d started off light but darkened with age. She had the kind of eyes—keen and electric—that missed nothing. This was Viv.

  “How’d you gals get stuck with the penthouse?” Viv asked.

  “Just lucky, I guess,” I said, keeping my tone jokey. “What’s there to do for fun around here?”

  Maude winked. “Oh, anything you set your heart on. Anything at all.”

  Rose glanced uneasily at the corridor linking our rooms. “We were hoping for a private room. We’re paying a steep sum—”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Viv interjected. “We won’t bug you unless you ask for it.”

  Maude rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s still working off a bender.”

  “But isn’t drinking against the rules?” The words had tumbled from Rose’s mouth, and she colored, instantly aware of her mistake. “Oh,” she said, her voice soft. “It must have been your birthday.”

  “Nope,” Viv said. She sat on Rose’s trunk and began to brazenly readjust her stockings. Maude joined her and began to study her own seams. There are always leaders and followers, I thought, and it only took a minute to figure out which was which.

  Viv focused her attention on my sister. “Tuesdays are Tom Collins nights,” she explained. “I figure it’s a neglected day of the week, why not give it a distinguishing characteristic?” The girls erupted in laughter.

  Obviously unsure of how to respond, Rose looked at me in silent appeal. “You gals been here awhile?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Long enough to know what’s what,” Viv answered.

  I caught Rose’s eye and gave a little nod. Once again she extracted Asher’s photograph and placed it on the trunk. “We’re looking for someone,” Rose said, and I noted a change in her voice, a sadness. Was she already feeling defeated? “That’s him. Does he look familiar?”

  Viv picked it up first. She held it very close to her face, and I realized she must need glasses. “No,” she said, handing the portrait to Maude. “But if he shows up, be sure to send him my way. He’s a looker.”

  “He’s my half brother,” Rose said quietly.

  “I was just kidding,” Viv said by way of apology.

  Maude returned the photograph. “He looks familiar, but so do half the mugs in this city. I’m sorry I can’t say for sure, but if you want to ask about someone, I’d go see Nell. She’s been here since the Dutch waltzed down Fifth Avenue in their fur coats.”

  Viv barked a laugh. “If you can catch her on a good day.”

  “We’ve already asked her,” Rose said.

  “Well, that’s that, then,” Viv said, her tone growing friendlier. “So, since we’re going to be sharing the penthouse, let’s get acquainted. On this little island you’re either a party girl or a workaday drudge. Which are ya?”

  Rose brought a hand to her cheek. “Are those the only choices?”

  Maude laughed. “In this city, it’s one or the other.” She appraised my sister with new eyes. “Hey, you’re a kick. I hadn’t realized.”

  “But she still hasn’t answered the question.” Viv’s smile was mean. “Drudge it is.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a good day’s work,” Rose said tightly.

  “Now that’s the bald-honest truth,” Maude attested, and Rose shot her a grateful look.

  I stepped into the conversation, hand on my hip. “We’re looking for work, but we never turn down a party.”

  “Well, now that we’ve got that settled, let’s talk the lay of the land,” Viv said, standing up. She patted Rose’s trunk. “That half-baked closet in between us might be as wide as a cigarette case, but we’re lucky—the girls downstairs hang their clothes on a line in the hallway. None of our rags ever go missing. The girls downstairs are fortunate if they can hold on to a dress more than a season. The smart ones keep their good dresses pressed between their mattress and box spring.”

  “Don’t forget Claudia,” Maude interjected. “She lives here, too.”

  Rose smiled, and I watched the straight line of her back give a little. “We met Claudia downstairs. Is she a relation of yours?”

  “Claudia’s a street rat Nell took in,” Viv explained. “She sleeps in that narrow room, tucked under our dresses. The wall juts out, so she’s got her own spot under the eave.”

  “Lucky her,” Rose said with a sigh.

  “You bet,” Viv said, misinterpreting her sarcasm. “In fact, it looks like it’s everyone’s red-letter day. Daisy moved out around three weeks ago. Nell thought she’d have to put an ad in the Daily if she couldn’t rent this place soon.” She paused, taking in the grimy walls and bare mattresses. “I have no idea why it’s so hard to let.”

  “Oh, it ain’t so bad.” Maude sniffed. “We’re lucky to have it.”

  I studied our surroundings more closely. The room could be charming with a little bit of spit and polish. Daisy had either been a slob or she’d been in a hurry. She’d left some handkerchiefs on the floor next to one of the beds, hairpins and magazines on the dresser and some restaurant cards stuck to the mirror. Those might come in handy, give us a lay of the land. “Daisy blew out of here pretty quick, huh?”

  Viv smiled knowingly. “She’s either headed to the convent or the preacher.”

  “So old Daisy was a party girl?” I said with a wink.

  Maude’s eyebrows lifted. “Daisy was a workaday drudge,” she said, obviously still marveling over that shocker. “A seamstress. And you wouldn’t believe—”

  “Perhaps we could discuss Daisy’s indiscretions later,” Rose interrupted, exhaustion creeping into her voice, “after we’ve unpacked.”

  Viv pulled at Maude’s collar. “Let’s leave the girls to their new home.”

  “We’re going out for a stroll if you want to join us,” Maude said as Viv pulled her down the narrow staircase. “Be downstairs in ten if you want to tag along!”

  I sat on one of the beds after they’d left. The mattress felt like it was made of slate. I watched Rose unpack, her movements slow. Mouth compressed, eyes slightly unfocused, she was lost to the thoughts inside her.

  “What’s eatin’ you?”

  She took Father’s painting of Empire House from her trunk and placed it on the dresser. She contemplated it for a moment and then sat on the bed opposite me. “Do you think they’re all telling the truth, Ivy? I have an odd feeling.”

  “When your instinct talks you should listen. Wouldn’t father have said the same?” I thought for a moment. “I did wonder why Nell barely gave Asher’s photo a glance. I thought she was impatient, but maybe there’s something else? Maude did say Nell’s been here the longest, so if anyone would have come across him it would be her.”

  “Maybe,” Rose said distractedly, but then her eyes sparked to life. “I know what’s bothering me! That cook downstairs. He didn’t say if he knew Asher or not. He didn’t say anything at all after looking at the photograph.”

  I grinned at my sister. “Reading all those books is finally paying off! Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree, but if someone’s keeping a secret, I can’t imagine it would stay buried for too long around here. We’re going to find Asher before you need to change your dress. I know it.”

  “Ivy?”


  “Hmm?”

  “Have you ever considered what might happen if and when we do find him?” Rose was staring up at the skylight as she asked the question. The light played across her worried face.

  I got up and wordlessly helped her unpack her books. I wanted to say I’d thought the whole thing through, but I hadn’t. Rose was trying to prepare me for disappointment, and I couldn’t consider that. Not for a moment.

  “You’ve got something to write with in that trunk, dontcha?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Are you feeling self-reflective?” Rose teased while sifting through her things. “Has Greenwich Village already turned you into a philosopher?”

  “Now wouldn’t that be a kick?”

  Empire House

  June-something-or-other, 1925

  Dear Mr. Lawrence,

  As time is money and all that, I’ll cut to the chase: No one here knows of Asher.

  Rose and I arrived safely at Empire House in two whole pieces, untouched by the savagery of the city. Empire House isn’t exactly the Waldorf Astoria, but the place has a certain gritty bohemian charm. Rose asked about Asher the minute we arrived, but every gal claimed she didn’t recognize him. The more I think about it, the more I suspect Asher did more here than simply pose on the doorstep. I realize lawyers don’t put much stock in intuition, but actresses do, and my gut tells me someone here knows where he’s living and breathing. My gut is also telling me that said person won’t open her trap unless I do some real arm-twisting, so I’m gearing up to do it. I spent my girlhood pounding the stuffing out of the Gilbert boys next door, so I am capable of twisting until something pops off. I will be subtle about it—she’ll not notice until someone else points out the blood.

  At this point you’re most likely wishing the other sister had taken pen to paper. Well, Mr. Lawrence, you are decidedly out of luck. While our dear Rose is trying to catch her breath, I’ve decided to take charge and be the responsible type. Don’t you dare laugh. On second thought, go ahead. I bet you could use it—you don’t strike me as the type who goes through life har-har-har-ing away.

  In closing, we intend to keep our promise to inform you of any developments, and expect you to do the same. Hopefully, more specific information will be forthcoming.

  Sincerely,

  Ivy Antoinette Adams

  CHAPTER 5

  Rose

  AFTER IVY DASHED OFF a quick letter to Mr. Lawrence telling him of our safe arrival, she took a few more books out of my trunk and searched our attic space for anything she could use as a bookshelf. She had yet to answer my question about Asher, but I knew she was thinking about it. I wanted to press the issue, but I also didn’t want to be a naysayer about everything. I decided it was something we could revisit, and instead apologized for being gruff with her new friends, Viv and Maude.

  “I’m sorry if I was rude. I promise I’ll be nicer the first chance I get. It’s just... Ivy, there’s so many things happening all at once. I’m afraid this isn’t quite what I expected.”

  “A little different than the way crowded city streets play out on the page?”

  “Much,” I said.

  She walked toward the window with my books. “Why not put some here, leaning on the windowsill between our beds?”

  “The sun might fade the covers....”

  She dropped the books on what I supposed she’d decided was my side, and threw herself on the bed closer to the door.

  “I know it’s not what you expected,” she said. “Hell, it’s not what I expected. But we have to make the most of it, Rose. Okay? I mean, that Sonny character...he’s got eyes for you already. And mean old Nell, I think she likes you, too. We could spiff up this Penthouse of ours. We’ll find Asher in no time.”

  “I don’t mind the attic,” I said.

  “You don’t?”

  “No,” I said going back to my trunk and pulling out my copy of Sara Crewe. “Have you ever read this? It’s delightful, really. I think I’ll read it again. She was sent to an attic room. If she could make the best of it, so can I. It’s the rest of it...the chaos. There’s a bit of Sara in you, Ivy. You’re taking all of this in stride.”

  I went to Ivy’s trunk next and opened it. My careful packing had been upturned by some kind of last-minute addition she must have thrown in.

  “Dear God, Ivy! Everything’s in a knot! I spent so much time trying to make sure our things were safe. When did you rummage through it, and why were you so careless?”

  “I guess that’s the end of your improving mood,” said Ivy, staring up at the sloped ceiling above our beds and playing with a strand of beads around her neck. “One of them is lying about knowing Asher,” Ivy said, “but which one? It’s like that Agatha Christie novel.”

  “They could all be lying.”

  “What should we do about it?”

  “Absolutely nothing. We’ll try to become closer to them. You’ve already started that, and I was wrong to be so cold. I’ll try harder, and maybe we can gain their trust.”

  “I think you should start with Sonny.”

  “Really, Ivy. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. If he was looking at anyone, it was you.”

  “Nope. I know a flirt when I see one. Trust me, sister. Go to him. He might be the first chink in the armor, you know?”

  “Maybe...”

  “Well, I’m going downstairs. It’s stuffy up here, and I want to explore a little. Will you be all right? Would you like me to bring you some water?”

  “No, I’m fine. I feel better up here.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Rose,” she said and then skipped down the stairs. I held my breath, afraid she’d fall on those heels of hers. But then I heard laughter and greetings...and I knew she was safe. I heard a gaggle of girls leave the building, slamming the double doors behind them, so I went to the window between our two beds that faced the street. She was walking arm in arm between Maude and Viv. They weren’t so bad, those girls. They were just...new. I looked up across another set of streets beyond the rooftops of the shorter buildings. One good thing about the penthouse was its bird’s-eye view. I’d always enjoyed being alone and seeing things from a safe distance.

  The attic was stuffy, though. So I struggled to open the window, and when it finally screamed its way ajar, the breeze that blew in smelled like baking bread. And in that moment I was back in my own kitchen. My past came rushing over me like the sounds of the city outside. The days of Mother and Father having academic talks on the porch with friends. I remembered staying up late and listening—so late the crickets almost drowned out their voices, as they talked of Father’s drawings and Mother’s work with Suffrage. And then, after Mother died, all the lovely meals I’d made and the dresses I’d sewn. I realized that I was without a chore for the first time since I was fifteen. And then I wondered over the thousands of days that Papa had to tell us about Asher, and yet never did. The thousands of days that our father had not been a father to Asher yet could have. How would Asher ever forgive us for being the children that Father did choose to raise? I was just as afraid of finding Asher as I was determined to get my house back. And I couldn’t do one without the other.

  Looking out of windows can make so many things clear. The city stretched out in front of me like a tattered quilt. I propped the window up with a splintered piece of window frame and then went to my trunk and finished unpacking. I took Ivy’s idea and placed my books on the wide window ledge. They looked pretty there. I thought I’d go find a flower or two to spruce up the rooms, and maybe wash my face, as well. I felt so dirty.

  As I went to the door that led downstairs, I looked into Maude and Viv’s side.

  That’s when I saw a little bed tucked under an even-steeper gable. I knew right away that it must belong to Claudia, that lovely little g
irl who seemed to work so hard. I’d go find her...not Sonny.

  The washroom was a floor below. It wasn’t anything special, and I noticed it was clean. I splashed some water on my face from the basin and left quickly, my heart beating fast, terrified someone might walk in on me. I don’t think I’d realized how many people would be sharing one space. I thought of taking a bath in the chipped porcelain tub. What if someone came in then? I looked for a lock and was horrified to see a tiny hook that could be unlatched on the outside by anyone’s finger.

  I’d returned to the hall when I heard Ivy’s heels clicking on the stairs before she rounded the corner and found me. She was simply glowing. I supposed she’d been on a walk embracing the city already.

  “Rose! You’ve come down! Here’s your water. I know you said you didn’t want it, but Sonny simply insisted.” She placed the glass on the landing, not even handing it to me. “Now, I’m off to a party! We’ve both been invited. You should go through my trunk and pick a dress, then come downstairs.”

  A party?

  “Ivy, I’m in no shape to go to a party. And I don’t have a proper dress, and yours won’t fit! I’m taller than you. Your dresses go up to my knees!”

  “All the better!”

  “Please, give my apologies...I’m simply not prepared.”

  “It’s not until a little later. Maybe you could spruce up something you have?”

  “I don’t think so, Ivy.”

  “I told you you’d try to ruin everything.” I could tell by her eyes that she didn’t want me to go with her. I was a burden to her, and I’d only just noticed it. “Fine, do as you must. But me? I’m going to soak up the scene. Tomorrow you’re gonna be calling me Sherlock.”

  “Be careful, Ivy. We don’t even know these people.” Even if I’d wanted to go, I wouldn’t have at that point. Why ruin her time by saddling her with a broken, old-fashioned girl? She’d be embarrassed by me.

  “Rose, you’re going to have to decide to live a little.”