“A party?”
The excitement on her face, in her voice, and the little skip she added to her dance step made him chuckle. “Yes. A party that a friend of mine is hosting downtown, in his apartment.”
With a flurry of keystrokes, the piano player ended the song, and as the final note sounded, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’d love to attend a party downtown!”
Both his hands had grasped onto her waist, holding her against him. The full-body contact caused an outbreak of desire inside him. Things he hadn’t desired in years.
Years.
It took all his restraint to keep from acting on those desires, to keep from kissing her. He released his hold on her enough to walk her off the dance floor as the battle of wills going on inside him became closer to a full-fledged war. What had he been thinking? Asking her to Raymond’s party was dangerous. That would set chins flapping with gossip. But, at the same time, he needed to keep an eye on her. The way she’d charmed those dockworkers was proof. Her snooping out information about Rex Gaynor could sets chins flapping just as fast. If the wrong people learned about the undiscovered money, it could hamper the authorities and their ability to catch Gaynor.
The article in his pocket was also concerning. It was rough, but it was good, and if she did that, wrote about Gaynor like she had the dance-off, another editor would snap it up.
Once at their table, he gestured to a serving girl, needing a drink more than ever.
* * *
Patsy was sure her heart would leap right out of her chest at any moment. A party! A real party! She knew exactly what she’d wear. Her black-and-white-striped dress, with her black beaded hat and pearls. Definitely a long set of white pearls and matching earrings and black shoes. No, her white shoes. The ones with the pearl buttons on the sides.
“Thirsty?”
She glanced up at Lane, and saw nothing but stars. The brightest stars in the universe. After a couple of blinks, they dulled enough to see the glass in his hand. She took it, drank half of the sweet cocktail and sighed. A party. A real party. With Lane Cox.
Bee’s knees! She’d been wrong! Tonight was going better than what she’d imagined. Far better!
She set the glass on the table, barely recalling having sat down. Her mind was still on the dance floor, in his arms, being asked out on a date. A real date.
It was...
Oh, dear, what had she done? She couldn’t go out on a date. She wasn’t allowed to date. Her parents didn’t permit dating. Even Betty, who had been told she’d marry James Bauer, soon, wasn’t allowed to date him, not until they were officially engaged.
It didn’t make sense, but many of Father’s rules didn’t make sense to any of them.
“What is your address?” Lane asked.
Having barely heard, she asked, “My what?”
“Your address, you know, where you live?”
“Why?”
He frowned slightly. “So I can pick you up tomorrow night.”
No, no, no, no! He couldn’t pick her up. Couldn’t know where she lived.
Patsy swallowed the lump in her throat and searched her mind for a solution. “I’ll meet you here,” she said as the thought formed. “At the Rooster’s Nest, at nine o’clock.”
Frowning deeper, he said, “The party starts at seven.”
Horsefeathers! She could never sneak out by seven. She couldn’t even sneak out by eight. Father was never asleep until eight thirty. Disappointment flooded her. “I—I have commitments until nine.”
“Commitments?”
She held her breath, trying to keep her frustrations hidden. “Yes, commitments.” It would be impossible to get away any earlier than eight thirty. Impossible. But if she hurried... Biting her bottom lip, she looked at him. “I could be here by eight forty-five.”
Lane cast her a thoughtful gaze, and for a moment she was afraid he’d say no, that would be too late.
“All right, eight forty-five it is.”
Her heart leaped all over again. “You mean it?”
He grinned. “Yes, I mean it.” Shrugging, he added, “The good parties don’t get started until ten anyway.”
She pressed a hand to her lips to stifle the squeal that rose in her throat. She would be here by eight forty-five, even if it meant she had to run all the way to the streetcar stop. Bubbling with anticipation, she asked, “Whose party is it?”
“Raymond Klein.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, but still she nodded. “He’s a friend of yours?”
Lane nodded, but looked at her oddly. “Have you heard of him?”
“No, not that I know of.” It truly didn’t matter; she was simply excited to experience a world she’d only dreamed of, but also knew she had to remain cautious.
“He’s a screenwriter who has written several motion pictures and rewritten many others.”
Another wave of excitement washed over her. “Will there be movie stars there?” she asked, thinking more about Jane than herself.
“Considering he’s marrying Ruby Lancaster, yes, there will be movie stars there.”
That name she did know. The actress had been in Jane’s magazine last week. “Ruby Lancaster?” She was beyond beautiful. Her coal-black hair was sleek and shiny and cut in a bob that angled to points near her chin.
“Yes, Ruby Lancaster. Raymond will really be putting on the Ritz for this party.”
She couldn’t wait to tell Jane that! Growing a bit tentative, she asked, “You aren’t razzing me, are you, Lane?”
He tilted his head and looked at her with a very serious expression for a long silent moment. “No, Libby, I’m not razzing you. Everything I’ve said is the absolute truth.”
Then, there was just one more thing she had to know. “Why?”
“Why?”
She nodded. “Why did you ask me to go with you?”
He was quiet for so long, her insides started to shake. Then, when he reached into his pocket, her stomach hit the floor as she recognized the envelope. For no feasible reason, because it clearly was in his hand, she checked her pocket. Her empty pocket.
“This shows promise, Libby. Talent. But if you’re serious about becoming a reporter, you’ll have to get out and meet people, because that’s what people want to read about. Real people.”
Chapter Five
This had to have been the longest day of her life. Cleaning day had never been her favorite, especially when it was her turn to dust. Father insisted that even the lightbulbs were dusted, and this time of year, with all the windows open, they needed it. Dust from the dirt road filtered in and covered everything. Truth be, during the summer months, they could dust twice a week and still not keep up with the fine silt that clung to everything.
The good thing about the heat during the summer months was that Father went to bed as early as possible, and kept a fan blowing on him all night. Not that it made escaping any less dangerous.
Patsy glanced at the clock again. It wasn’t even four yet. She had stolen some time while dusting upstairs to take her black-and-white dress out of the trunk in her closet and press it smooth. She had made the dress last month, and had worn it only once since then. As she and her sisters did as often as possible, she had sewn an apron out of the same material, so if her mother noticed the striped material on the line during wash day, that’s what she’d think was hanging out to dry.
She still wanted to polish her white shoes and had to ask Jane where the pearls were that she’d worn the other night. Now would be the perfect time. Her sisters were outside beating the dust out of the large rug from the living room. She also had to tell them where she was going tonight.
Her stomach grew queasy at the thought. She’d considered telling them last night, but the walk home had been silent. By the time Betty finally met up with her and Jane between the buildings, they’d missed the stre
etcar. That had made Jane angry and she’d become even angrier when Betty wouldn’t tell them why she had been so late meeting them.
Patsy hadn’t been overly happy herself. She could have stayed and danced and talked with Lane. He’d liked her article about the dance-off, had praised her for it, and she understood so much more about being a reporter. They’d danced several times last night, too, up until Jane had signaled that it was time to leave.
Lane hadn’t followed her last night. There had been no reason. She’d see him tonight.
Patsy bit her lips together as she collected her dusting cloths. She’d been trying very hard to remember tonight was about becoming a reporter and not about going out with Lane, but it was hard. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him, and liking any man wasn’t in her plan. Especially one who might eventually give her a job. She hadn’t thought about that aspect. Of working for a man. Bosses could be like fathers, and husbands, telling her what to do and when to do it.
Like dusting.
Sighing, she carried the rags into the kitchen to rinse out.
“Finished dusting?” Mother asked from where she sat at the table, peeling potatoes for supper, along with the roast that was already seasoned and ready to go in the oven. Although she and her sisters helped with the meal preparations, for the most part, Mother preferred to do all the cooking. She loved preparing meals, and was an excellent cook. At least it appeared that way.
“Yes,” Patsy answered, carrying her cloths to the sink. “Do you need any help?”
“No, thank you, dear.” Mother truly was a lovely woman. Her blond hair was still as yellow as sunflowers and her skin smooth and peach-colored. “I’ve already peeled the carrots.”
“Candied carrots?” Patsy asked, hopeful. Mother’s candied carrots were one of her favorites.
Mother grinned. “Of course. You and your father love them.”
“They are so delicious.” Patsy turned on the faucet to rinse out the rags. “I’ll hang these dust cloths on the line, but first will see if Jane and Betty need any help with the rug.”
“All the traffic on the road has really filled the house with dust this summer. I do wish your father would talk to the city council about having the road paved.”
“I thought he had,” Patsy answered, wringing out the dust cloths.
“That was last year, dear. There are several more homes up here now.”
Patsy nodded. That was true, but after how angry her father had been at the city council last year, they might not allow him to attend another meeting this year. Whether there were more homes in the hills or not.
“Please ask your sisters to help you set the dining room table after your other chores are completed,” Mother said.
“I will.” That was another one of their chores, things they did every night, and that had her wondering, “Mother, do you ever feel...” She searched for an appropriate word. “...cooped up?”
“Cooped up?” Mother smiled. “How could I in a house this large? This beautiful?”
How indeed?
“You’ll understand someday how wonderful it is to dedicate your time to taking care of your family,” Mother said. “Your father works very hard to provide for us, and we need to work just as hard in showing him how much we appreciate that.”
Patsy nodded, although a part of her wondered if there was something wrong with her because she wanted more than to simply take care of her family. She wanted a life. The freedom to do what she wanted, when she wanted to. Her sisters wanted that, too, so how could all three of them be wrong?
From the time they’d been born, they’d had chores to keep them busy before school and after school, and all day long since their schooling had ended. They’d never been allowed to do fun things like other children had, except for the few times when she’d been young. She remembered going places and doing things then, but that had happened only when her grandmother had come to visit. Her mother’s mom, from Seattle, and mother’s sister, Aunt Joan.
She carried her damp cloths through the back door, across the back porch and then out into the yard, all the while thinking about Aunt Joan, and why no one had mentioned her for years.
Betty and Jane were beating the big red-and-gold oriental rug, one on each end. Patsy shook out her cloths and hung them over a line not being used for the rug. “Do either of you know why no one ever mentions Aunt Joan?” she asked.
Her sisters looked at each other, then at her.
“Because she had a baby out of wedlock,” Jane said.
Patsy was stunned. “When?”
“Shortly before Grandma died,” Jane said. “That’s why we are kept under lock and key, so we don’t follow her footsteps.”
Patsy shook her head. “Father has always had strict rules.”
“They became stricter after that,” Jane said. “And Joan was forced to give up her baby and was sent to the convent.”
“The convent?” Patsy’s insides quivered. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“Because we were in school and never told any of it, and aren’t supposed to know now, either, but that’s what happened,” Jane said.
Patsy looked at Betty, who nodded and gave the rug a solid whack with the wire beater.
Patsy felt sick to her stomach about what happened to her aunt, and about never knowing a thing about it.
“We are going to the Rooster’s Nest again tonight,” Betty said, almost as if the earlier conversation hadn’t even happened.
Jane gave her end of the rug a solid whack while it was still waving from Betty’s hard hit. “Yes, we are.”
Patsy looked at both of them before replying, “We need to leave early. Before eight thirty if possible.”
Betty shook her head and whacked the rug again. “That’s not possible. We can’t chance being caught.”
“No, we can’t,” Jane said, swinging her metal rug beater at the rug.
Patsy held a hand up to stop the rug from waving. The dust had long ago been beaten out of it. “I know we can’t chance being caught,” she said. “But I have a date.”
The beater in Betty’s hand stopped midswing. “What do you mean? A date?”
“A date.” Patsy’s heart skipped a beat at using the word date. “Lane Cox is taking me to a real Hollywood party. Downtown.”
“What?” Jane asked, her beater hanging at her side.
“That’s impossible!” Betty hissed. “We aren’t allowed to date.”
“I know.” Lane hadn’t specifically called it a date, so she may have jumped to a conclusion on that. “It might not really be a date. Lane read one of my articles and liked it, and said that if I want to be a reporter, I need to get out and meet people, and invited me to a party.”
“You can’t get out and meet people,” Betty said. “You can’t go downtown! We can’t—”
“I know we can’t risk getting caught,” Patsy interjected. “That’s why I told Lane I’d meet him at the Rooster’s Nest, and I’ll make sure I’m back before the last streetcar so we won’t have to walk all the way home.”
“It’s too risky,” Betty said. “Way too risky. It could ruin everything.”
“It won’t,” Patsy insisted. “I promise. I’ll wear a hat and—”
“No!” Betty shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” Jane looked at Betty. “You weren’t at the Rooster’s Nest all of last night, and don’t pretend that you were. I looked for you before I left. You were nowhere in sight. I thought you’d be waiting for us between the buildings, but you weren’t.”
Betty closed her eyes and pinched her lips together. “I was in the powder room.”
“No, you weren’t,” Jane said.
They never argued, none of them, and worried it could prevent her from going tonight, Patsy stepped between them. Safeguarding thei
r double lives was something they had agreed on since the beginning. “Let’s not argue. Not among each other. Please.”
Her sisters looked at her and then each other.
Afraid whatever was bothering them would ruin all that they had, she pleaded, “Please? Do either of you really want to go back to staying home every night? I don’t.”
“I don’t,” Jane said, looking at Betty.
“She’s right,” Betty said. “We can’t let last night ruin anything. I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again.” Betty shook her head then. “But, Patsy, a date? Downtown? That’s going against all of our rules.”
“I know, but I’ll be extra careful.” Patsy used one finger to draw an imaginary X over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Lane didn’t question you meeting him at the Rooster’s Nest?” Jane asked.
Patsy cringed slightly. “Yes, he wanted my address to pick me up. I didn’t give it to him. Instead said I’d meet him at the Rooster’s Nest, at eight forty-five. The party starts at seven, but I told him I had other commitments and he said that was fine because the party won’t get into full swing until ten.” She looked at Betty. “I have to go. This is my big chance. Lane is the best reporter in the city.”
Betty closed her eyes for a moment, then asked, “Where at downtown?”
“An apartment,” Patsy answered. “A friend of Lane’s named Raymond Klein.”
“Raymond Klein!” Jane slapped a hand over her mouth at her squeal. “Elephant eyebrows! The Raymond Klein? The screenwriter?”
Patsy nodded. Jane was as excited as she’d expected her to be.
“He and Ruby Lancaster are crushing.” Jane’s face was glowing. “I...uh...acquired another magazine the other day. He’s in it. So is Ruby. Wouldn’t it be something if you saw her there?”
“I will,” Patsy said. “She and Raymond are getting married. This is their engagement party.” She then added what Lane had told her about Raymond and Ruby going to New York to get married because that’s where her family lived.
“How darb!” Jane looked at Betty. “We have to let her go to this party. It’s sure to be the bee’s knees, and it’s not like she’s going to be recognized. Not with the party full of famous people.”
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