Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express)

by Heather B. Moore

  Aunt Rowena sighed. “I’m going stir-crazy. Is there no exception to be made?”

  “No exception,” the doctor said in a firm voice. “I do have news today that will cheer you up.”

  “Let’s hear it, then,” Aunt Rowena said.

  “The lab tests show that the growth was cancerous, but we believe the cancer was contained to the tumor and has not spread to other locations in your body.”

  Gigi frowned. Was this good news? It seemed to be . . . but that still meant Aunt Rowena had had a cancerous tumor inside of her.

  “Well, I suppose that’s the best news I can expect,” Aunt Rowena said.

  “I want to see you every three months to check for any changes,” the doctor added.

  Aunt Rowena nodded. “Very well. Georgina will make sure I stay on task.”

  A bubble of pride rose in Gigi’s chest.

  When the doctor prepared to leave, he turned to Gigi. “Thank you for your help and all your care. Contact me with any concerns, even if your aunt wants to overlook them.”

  “I can hear you,” Aunt Rowena chided, but her tone was amused.

  The doctor nodded to Aunt Rowena. “Your determination, in all things, has served you well in the long run.”

  Aunt Rowena’s brows lifted. “I’m taking that as a compliment, sir.”

  He chuckled. “As you should.”

  Gigi had never seen the doctor tease or laugh, and it was then she realized that doctors were very much affected by the outcome of their patients’ health.

  After the doctor left, Gigi crossed to her aunt to hand over a glass of water. “You’re free for three months. Whatever shall we do?”

  Aunt Rowena smiled. “Too bad the tour is already over, or I’d be tempted to rejoin. Perhaps we can sign up for his next one? When was it?”

  “Don’t even think about that right now,” Gigi said with a laugh. “The doctor said two more weeks of no activity, and I intend to hold you to that.”

  Aunt Rowena looked up at the ceiling in mock surrender. “Maybe I should have taken your sister with me after all. She’s less bossy.”

  Gigi only shrugged. “You wouldn’t be in your second week of recovery if you had.”

  “True.” Her aunt grasped Gigi’s hand before she could step away. “Thank you, my dear. You have been my angel.”

  Gigi only smiled, because her throat had suddenly tightened, and she felt the familiar burning of tears.

  A soft knock on the door sounded, and Gigi turned to see Lillian open it a crack. “A letter has come for you, Aunt Rowena.”

  “Bring it here,” Aunt Rowena said immediately, her tone bright.

  When Lillian handed it over, Aunt Rowena exclaimed, “Oh! It’s from Professor Haskins. How wonderful.” She tore at the envelope, nearly ripping it in half.

  Gigi and Lillian stood together, watching their aunt. Gigi smiled at her aunt’s excitement. In truth, Gigi wanted to snatch the letter and read it first. What would the professor say? He must be back at the university by now, and had likely received her avalanche of letters. What had he thought of her reports?

  “Gigi,” Lillian whispered, then nudged her.

  Gigi looked at her sister, and Lillian pressed something against her hand. It was another letter. She glanced down at it to see it was addressed to her from the professor.

  Her breath stilled, and she quickly moved her hand behind her back so that Aunt Rowena wouldn’t see that there’d been a second letter from the professor. He’d written to her alone. It could be a thank-you letter, an update on the return home, maybe even a request of some sort—to keep him informed of her aunt’s progress?

  The rapid beating of her heart was only a reaction to the unknowns in the letter. He was a friend, and he would be writing as a friend. But in all her years, she’d never been so excited to receive correspondence from another person. She steadied her breathing as she tried to focus on Aunt Rowena while she read her letter aloud.

  Gigi could barely pay attention as her aunt read. The professor thanked them for the updates, hoped that the recovery was going well, reported on the final stops of the tour, listed the museums they’d attended, and told of an amusing incident with a carriage driver who took the group to the wrong hotel.

  Aunt Rowena was beaming by the time she finished reading the letter. “We must write him back immediately,” she said. “He needs to know the good news.”

  After Lillian left, Gigi composed a return letter to the professor with the information that Aunt Rowena dictated to her.

  “And tell him that after my two weeks are up, I’ll be ready for another adventure.”

  Gigi smiled and added in that line. Then she closed off the letter.

  “You must post it today,” Aunt Rowena said. “I’m going to take a nap, and if I awaken before you’ve returned, then I’ll call for Lillian.”

  Gigi was well-used to Aunt Rowena’s demands, so this latest did not faze her at all. She was more than happy to have some time to herself because it would also allow her to read her own letter in private.

  She left the bedroom and found Lillian in the drawing room absently plucking at the keys of the piano. As soon as Gigi entered, Lillian looked up in anticipation. “Well? What did your letter say?”

  “I haven’t read it yet,” Gigi said.

  “Read it now!” Lillian said with a laugh. “I can be your watchman at the door.” She rose from the piano bench and crossed to the doorway, then stood as if she were a sentinel.

  Gigi shook her head. “All right. All right.” She crossed to the mantel, the farthest side of the room from her sister.

  Opening the letter, she drew out the single sheet of paper. The first thing she noticed was that the note was short. Only a half page.

  Dear Miss Ballard,

  Or shall I call you Gigi? Perhaps the more formal address is better in a written letter. How are you? In your letters about your aunt, you never spoke of yourself. It’s difficult to know how you are doing when I don’t see you every day. I’ve found that I became accustomed to our talks. The rest of the tour felt different in your absence, and I think I know why.

  Would it be too forward to pay you a visit? And your aunt, of course. If for no other reason than to bring good wishes to you and your family.

  If you think that would be crossing into a territory you’d rather not enter, then at the very least, know that I wish you all the happiness and health.

  Sincerely,

  Clyde Haskins

  Gigi had completely forgotten that she wasn’t alone in the room until Lillian spoke.

  “Well, what does he say?”

  Gigi looked up from the letter that she’d read three times through. “I—He sends his good wishes. And . . . he wants to visit.” Saying the words aloud only made it more real. The professor—Clyde—had written her a letter that was far more personal than she’d ever expected. I think I know why . . . pay you a visit . . . crossing into a territory . . . She exhaled.

  Then she smiled.

  Lillian was grinning at her from across the room, arms folded, brown eyes sparkling. “I think a visit would be very nice. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Gigi said immediately, then laughed at her eagerness. She also felt like crying for some reason. It was just a visit . . . and would likely be focused on her aunt’s health.

  “You must write back to him,” Lillian said. “Tell him that he’s welcome to visit anytime.”

  “Yes, I must.” Gigi blinked. “I should do it now and post these letters together.”

  Lillian laughed. “I agree. Do you need paper? And a pen?”

  Gigi blinked again. “Yes, I do.”

  “I’ll return shortly,” Lillian said, amusement in her tone.

  Lillian left the room, and Gigi reread the letter again and again. She could hardly believe the words.
They made her feel like she was back in that empty train compartment being held by Professor Haskins. Being kissed by him . . .

  “Here you are,” Lillian said, coming into the room.

  Gigi took the paper and pen and sat on the settee next to the end table. With a shaky hand, she began her reply.

  Lillian pretended to ignore her and began to play the piano again—a slow melody with plenty of crescendos and diminuendos.

  Dear Professor Haskins,

  You may call me Gigi in a letter. I believe our many confessions and days upon days of friendship warrant first names. Thank you for your letter. I did not expect a personal reply, but of course you may visit anytime. Aunt Rowena will be in our home for another two weeks, and then, I’m not sure if she’ll want to live on her own just yet. Otherwise, you have my address, and I’d love to introduce you to my mother and sister.

  Letter writing is never the same as speaking in person. And I have missed speaking to you as well. I hope you are in good health, and if the territory you mentioned is not where you want to be, I hope we can always remain friends.

  Wishing you well,

  Gigi

  Her hand was still trembling when she addressed the envelope. Only then did she look at her sister.

  Lillian stopped playing. “Well?”

  “Well, I’ve written him back,” Gigi said. “I told him he is welcome to visit anytime.”

  “Perfect.” Lillian’s smile was wide. “Now get on with you. Go post the letters.”

  Gigi didn’t wait another moment, or she feared her nerve might leave her. Just as she opened the front door to leave the house, two women were coming up the steps. “Irene! Blanche!”

  They were here to visit Aunt Rowena, of course. They visited frequently, but it was always good to see them.

  “Hello, dear,” Blanche said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “You are smiling like a child at Christmas.”

  “Indeed, you are,” Irene agreed, her always-observant gaze turning sharper.

  “It’s a beautiful day, that’s all,” Gigi said. “And it’s wonderful to see you. My aunt will be tickled.”

  Blanche adjusted her rather pompous hat. “Well, if you say so. We won’t keep you.”

  Gigi was ever grateful and left the two women staring after her. Before she turned the corner, she heard Blanche say in a rather pointed tone, “Well, if she won’t tell us, then I know who to ask.”

  ChapteR EighteeN

  Dear Gigi,

  I hope this letter finds you well. If Sunday is available, I will come shortly after the noon hour. I’m looking forward to seeing you more than you know.

  Sincerely,

  Clyde

  The back room of the dressmaking shop was cluttered with rolls of fabric, stacks of thread spools, and trays of beads, buttons, feathers, and other notions. Gigi was working on a series of shawls that Mrs. Stanton wanted to display for the upcoming autumn season. Gigi had decided to weave thin ribbons of browns, golds, and violets into the shawls. Working this morning was a good distraction from dwelling constantly on the professor’s upcoming visit.

  Today was the day. She planned to leave the shop a good hour before so that she could get home and fuss with her appearance. Gigi must remember to think of him as Professor Haskins and not Clyde. She’d reread all of his personal letters to her over and over, so she had them well memorized.

  Aunt Rowena was now well enough to move about the house. She spent her mornings in the drawing room and her afternoons in the library. After that, it was an early supper and to bed for her. Gigi had gotten creative and embellished Aunt Rowena’s nightdresses to cut down on the monotony of the days. Gigi had spent a portion of each day at the dressmaker’s, and she’d spent off hours working on designs for men’s clothing as well.

  Checking the clock yet again, she realized her concentration had completely left. The professor kept entering her thoughts by way of questions of what it would be like to see him again, what their conversation might consist of. And would she see him again after this?

  Mrs. Stanton came into the back room, her gray-streaked hair pulled tight into a bun. “Have you seen the peach organza?” she asked, eyeing the shawl Gigi was working on.

  “It’s on the top shelf there,” Gigi said, nodding to the shelving on the other side of the room.

  “Ah, thank you.” Mrs. Stanton paused. “By the way, I wanted to speak to you for a moment. Frederica just turned in her notice. I can hire another shop girl, or you could work more hours.”

  Frederica worked with the wealthier clients one-on-one. She had a great eye for fashion, but she was also flakey and usually showed up late.

  “Why is she leaving?”

  Mrs. Stanton pursed her lips. “She says she’s been hired for more money at Bovine’s Millenary.”

  A sore point to be sure, since Mrs. Stanton and Mrs. Bovine competed for some of the same customers. Mrs. Stanton had started selling hats, and Mrs. Bovine had started offering alterations and ready-made clothing. But if Gigi were to do Frederica’s job in catering to the customers, then she wouldn’t be hands-on with the clothing anymore.

  “Can I think about it and let you know tomorrow?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Stanton took down the organza, then went back into the front of the shop.

  Gigi sighed. She was even more distracted now, and she might as well call it a day, then come back fresh tomorrow with her decision, whatever that might be . . .

  Once she made the short walk home, she walked into a flower-laced drawing room. Apparently, Aunt Rowena had ordered half the flowers in London to be delivered to their home.

  “What’s this?” Gigi asked, turning to survey the drawing room. “Are you turning this into a garden?”

  Aunt Rowena chuckled from her spot by the hearth, which had been lit, even though it was the middle of summer. Since her surgery, she complained about always being cold.

  “It’s an added welcome for the professor,” Aunt Rowena said. “We used to discuss types of flowers. Apparently his mother won many contests for best roses. Did he not tell you?”

  “No,” Gigi said. She moved about the room, examining a few of the arrangements. “But so many?”

  “If it can’t be done well, then why do it at all?” her mother said, coming into the room.

  Her mother wore one of her best day dresses and had obviously taken time to fix her hair. Lillian was right on their mother’s heels. She looked beautiful in a soft-pink dress with ruffles at the neck and wrists.

  Gigi looked down at her work skirt and blouse that had seen better days. “I should go change.”

  “You should,” Lillian said brightly.

  Her mother just smiled, and Aunt Rowena seemed distracted by checking something in her notebook.

  Gigi went up the stairs to her bedroom. Noon would arrive in a half hour, and then the professor would be here unless he was delayed by something. Would he be on time? Would he come at all? Of course he was coming . . . She changed into a fresh blouse and a dark-green skirt. She didn’t want to dress up too much or look like she was trying too hard. And yet . . .

  By the time she’d brushed out her hair, then pinned it and repinned it, the time was dangerously close to noon.

  She could hear the voices of her family downstairs, and she knew she should hurry down. But she was glued to her bedroom window that overlooked the street, watching for any sign of the professor. She studied the passing carriages and analyzed the pedestrians.

  The appointed time came and went. Five minutes, then ten minutes. A carriage slowed on the opposite side of the street, and out stepped a man she’d recognize in any country. Professor Haskins was here—at her home! She watched him walk across the street, coming closer. His jacket was a deep brown, and she knew instinctively that it would make his eyes more brown when she saw him up close.r />
  His pale-blond hair beneath his hat seemed shorter than when she’d last seen him, and his stride was sure and confident.

  She still hadn’t moved from the window.

  When a knock sounded at the door, she nearly jumped. She needed to go downstairs now.

  After taking a deep breath and smoothing her palms over her skirt, she left her bedroom. The voices coming from the drawing room were female mixed with a familiar male voice. Gigi quickened her step and pushed herself to keep moving even though her heart was already in her throat.

  “Wonderful to meet you,” her mother’s voice rang out. “We’ve heard so much about you, and we appreciate your care and concern for my sister-in-law.”

  The professor murmured something that Gigi couldn’t quite make out. She stepped into the drawing room. His back was to her as he faced her aunt.

  “You are looking lovely, ma’am,” he said, and it wasn’t any surprise that a flush stole over Aunt Rowena’s cheeks as she gazed up at him.

  “Thank you for coming, Professor,” Aunt Rowena said. “I hope you plan to stay for a while because I want to hear all about the rest of the tour. I almost invited Irene and Blanche over for a little reunion but perhaps next time. I’d rather have you all to myself.”

  The professor laughed, and the warmth reached across the room and sent Gigi’s pulse thrumming.

  “I have many stories to tell,” he said, the timbre of his voice low, so familiar yet so new at the same time.

  And then he turned, and their gazes connected. Warmth skittered across Gigi’s skin, and her chest felt like she’d exhaled after holding her breath for many moments.

  All the greetings Gigi had planned to say flew right out of her mind.

  “Hello, Miss Ballard,” the professor said, his gaze intent, his words even more intent.

  Lillian nudged her, and Gigi managed to say, “Welcome, Professor.” Such a profound statement, she thought with a grimace. That was all she’d come up with?

  Professor Haskins’s gaze didn’t miss a thing, and she felt as if he was seeing all of her at once, both inside and out. His mouth curved into a smile, and he gave her a small nod . . . Had he winked?