“Well,” she said, lowering her voice, “you must promise to be discreet.”
“Of course.”
She rose to close the office door. Instead of returning to her chair, she perched directly in front of me on the edge of the desk. “Please promise me you won’t repeat this to anyone.”
“I shan’t, I promise.”
She leaned forward and kept her voice low. “One of our employees made a complaint that he got her into trouble.”
“My goodness.” Angelina? Could Mr. Vogel be her gentleman friend? It couldn’t be; she’d taken precautions.
“He denied it, of course.”
“Were there repercussions?”
“Let’s just say that no action was taken against him.”
“What about the woman?”
“Fired.”
“Oh dear.”
“Well, it’s too bad she got herself into that mess. But she got her revenge by informing his wife.”
“And then what happened?”
“He whisked his wife off to Europe. Then we got a telegram saying he wasn’t coming back until the end of August.”
“So his wife forgave him?”
“First-class hotels have a way of doing that.”
“I should imagine.”
“At any rate,” Miss Cohen said, returning to her desk, “I have some work to finish up, and you probably want to get home. I’ll make sure the new salary is reflected in your next paycheck. By the way, I know you were planning on going down to Long Branch next week.”
“Yes.” I prayed she wouldn’t ask me to give up my vacation. “Do you need me here?”
She must’ve read my face. “I suppose I can get along without you. But I’ll need your undivided attention when you get back.”
“Don’t worry about that, Miss Cohen. I’ll be all yours. Thank you so much.”
“You’ve earned it, Miss Westcott. Have a good evening.”
Walking down Fifth Avenue, I tried to feel happy about my promotion, but the fear that I was carrying a child made any celebration impossible. And now there was the mystery of whether the woman in trouble was Angelina. How bizarre it would be if both of us were pregnant at the same time. Perhaps we’d reconcile and go through the ordeal together. The idea would’ve given me some measure of comfort if I hadn’t been consumed by anxiety and dread.
—
That evening, while changing into my nightgown, I felt a cramp. Please, God, let it be my monthly. I lay in bed and waited to see if another would come. I fell asleep, still waiting.
In the morning, my eyes shot open with the horrid bell. Was that a cold wetness between my legs? I took a peek and saw a red blotch on my nightgown and another on the sheet. Blood! My heart sang. Thank you, God, for not punishing me. Pressing my thighs together to keep more from seeping out, I rose from bed and joyously collected my belt and sanitary napkin. I’d never given that darn bloody mess such a welcome in my life.
July 10, 1908
The only way to find out the truth about Angelina is to go knock on her door. I could call on her this weekend. But what if she snubs me again? I’ll feel like a fool for having given her another chance to do so.
Sunday morning I sat in the parlor, reading the columns listing flats for rent in the newspaper. The page had a large advertisement for a new building on the upper West Side that boasted steam heat, hot water, a separate bedroom, and private bath. They even publicized the rent, which was surprisingly moderate and would be manageable, just barely, with my raise. It might be rather isolating to live all the way up there, but the subway would take me practically door-to-door. And how lovely it would be to have my own private bathroom! Hopefully, they wouldn’t hold my being a single woman against me.
But first I needed to read the society page. While I was skimming the gossip column, a familiar name caught my eye.
Mr. and Mrs. Fulton Winthrop of 107 East Sixty-fifth Street have sent out invitations for the wedding of their daughter, Vivian Winthrop, to Mr. Ralph Pierce. The ceremony shall take place at the St. Regis Hotel. In August the young couple, who were childhood sweethearts, will leave for a honeymoon in Niagara Falls, followed by a train tour out west.
He must’ve gone back to the girl he’d broken off with. A sense of failure came over me, as if our aborted evening had made him appreciate anew how much he loved his sweet and dutiful fiancée. Meanwhile, having willfully challenged his attitudes, I continued on alone. Were all women who tried to be treated as equals condemned to live solitary lives? Well, I didn’t have to be alone. If only Daisy would come back from Europe. My last letter from her was from before Christmas, and I never did manage to write back. Perhaps that explained her silence.
I folded up the newspaper. Daisy was across the ocean; Angelina lived a fifteen-minute walk away. Angelina, who had extended a hand to me when I was at my lowest. I couldn’t allow pride to stand between us now.
—
“This is a surprise.” Angelina didn’t look overjoyed to see me.
“I hope I’m not intruding.”
We stood on opposite sides of the doorway. She didn’t invite me in. It took all my willpower not to sneak a look at her belly. I held out the hat she lent me when we went to the Electric Show. “I came across your lovely hat, and I wanted to return it.”
“You could’ve kept it,” she said, but she accepted my offering.
“I was also hoping we might talk a bit, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“About what?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I thought you might … I was worried …” I finally had to look down at her stomach, which appeared to bulge out under a silvery-blue kimono embroidered with cherry blossoms. “Won’t you let me in so we can talk?”
Her cheeks colored ever so slightly. “If you dropped by to pity me …” She began to shut the door.
“Angelina, I’m here because I’ve missed you terribly. Please,” I asked, aware this would be my third time asking, “may I come in?”
As she stared intently at my face, I wondered if Father’s theory would work. Finally, she stood aside and allowed me inside. I took in the full view of her. When I’d last seen her almost two months ago, she’d managed to hide it. That wouldn’t have been possible now.
“Do you want some tea?” she asked grudgingly.
“Please don’t trouble yourself.”
We sat across from each other at her small wood table. I cast a look about the apartment. The night I slept here seemed ages ago.
“I should’ve figured Sadie would tell you,” she said.
I didn’t confirm or deny it. “And Mr. Vogel is the father.”
She nodded.
“And he doesn’t admit the truth?”
“Didn’t you hear? He left his wife to marry me. Soon as the baby’s born, we’re going to Paris for our honeymoon. Then he’s gonna buy me a mansion on Fifth Avenue, and we’re throwing ourselves a fancy ball so he can introduce me to all his friends.”
I winced. “There must be some way to make that man pay.”
“I tried. Looks like I’ll be paying the price all by myself.”
“And your family?”
“Madonna mia!” She went to fill the kettle with water. “You think I’m about to tell them? My mother would pretend I was dead. My father would kill me so she wouldn’t have to pretend.”
“Mr. Vogel is a rotten scoundrel for letting you go through this on your own.”
“When I told him, he said I must’ve been with someone else, because we took precautions, but I wasn’t, I swear.”
“The brute. Of course he doesn’t want the scandal. Or the responsibility.”
She sat back down and looked at me with pleading eyes. “I thought I was safe. He sent me to his own doctor. You should’ve seen the gent’s office—a fancy building on the Upper East Side with a grand marble lobby. I followed the instructions, kept my a
ppointments, even made sure to rinse like he said. A lot of good it did me.”
“There must be some way to prove it was Mr. Vogel,” I said. “That doctor knows—”
“All he knows is who pays the bills. There isn’t anything to do.”
I pictured that gun in the Sears & Roebuck catalog. “We could buy a pistol and shoot him.”
“It wouldn’t solve anything.”
“Sure would feel good.”
“Would you do that for me?”
“I saw a nice one for sale with a pretty pearl handle.”
“You’d need a pearl necklace to go with it.”
“I’ll steal one from the store.”
“You’d never get away with it.”
“I’ll plead insanity. Harry Thaw got away with it.”
“I’ll be sure to visit you in the insane asylum.”
We exchanged shy smiles; I knew our friendship had been repaired. Then she looked down at the mound straining against her robe. “Along with the baby.”
Our smiles faded. The water had come to a boil. She got up to make the tea.
“Please.” I rose from my chair. “Let me.”
“I’m not a cripple,” she replied.
I sat back down. “I guess you’ve been keeping this secret a long time.”
“I suspected back when we went to Coney, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Even then?” No wonder she wasn’t interested in those incubator babies.
“Then that psychic … remember her?”
“Do I ever. ‘Don’t regret the future,’ ” I said ominously, “ ‘or fear the past!’ ”
“It made perfect sense to me,” Angelina said. “That’s when I made myself accept it. I knew I had to go through with it or I’d never forgive myself.”
“I couldn’t be as brave as you.”
“Is it brave when you’ve got no choice?” she asked while pouring us each a cup of tea.
I remembered saying something along the same line to Ralph Pierce. “I suppose we always have a choice; it’s just that it might not be the choice we want. I’m sorry this happened. You don’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry I was so horrid to you when you didn’t deserve it.”
“I said some stupid things.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“That night at the Majestic …”
“I was so ashamed. Thought I’d die if you knew.”
“Of course. I understand.” How easily I could’ve been in her position.
We were silent a few moments as we sipped our tea. Then I made myself bring him up. “Does Joe know?”
“God forbid. He’d squeal to my parents in a second. I’d have hell to pay for eternity. I’m just thankful they’re on the other side of the country right now.”
“You can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“Yes, I could. Or maybe I’ll give it up.”
At first I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Could you bear to?”
“I might not have a choice. I’ve got a little money saved, as you know, but that’ll run out soon enough.”
“Angelina. You must let me help you.”
“You aren’t exactly rolling in dough.”
“I did just get a raise,” I said, taking care not to sound boastful. “Miss Cohen promoted me to assistant buyer.”
“Why, that’s grand,” she said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sure you’ll need every penny.”
“I’m not only talking about money. Who will help you when the baby comes?”
“I have a doctor.”
“You need someone to be with you during confinement, and then at least the first few weeks.” I didn’t dare say it, but what if something should go wrong?
“I’ll manage. My friends will help.”
“Might I count as a friend?”
“Of course.”
I had an idea. “Listen. I’m going to look at an apartment to rent on the upper West Side. Eighty-sixth Street and Broadway. It’s a brand-new building—the roaches haven’t even moved in yet. You ought to come live with me there.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“It’s got a separate bedroom. And a private bathroom. With a tub!” If that didn’t tempt her, nothing would.
“They’ll never take two women. Especially one that’s almost eight months pregnant.”
“We’ll tell them we’re sisters. Your husband works overseas.”
“They’d never take us for sisters.”
“Sisters-in-law, then. Your husband is my brother.”
She laughed. “You have learned to manage.”
“Angelina. You went out of your way to be kind when I felt alone in the world. Let me return the favor.”
“Thanks, but I’m not budging from this place. For one thing, the doctor delivering the baby lives down on Cherry Street. I don’t want to be any farther away than this. Also, I don’t pay any rent.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Vogel owns the building.”
“Yes, of course.” Now I remembered her telling me how her “gent” helped get Joe the apartment next door. “And he’s letting you stay?”
“Maybe he’s too guilty to put me on the street. Or he just hasn’t gotten around to it.”
“But he could any time. When he gets back from Paris.”
“Maybe. Who knows? I never had a lease. The way I see it, he owes me, and this place doesn’t begin to pay his debt.”
“All right, then I’ll just have to move in with you.”
“Here? You’ve gone crazy.”
“Only until the baby is born and you’re back on your feet. I won’t let you be alone at a time like this. After I’ve seen you through, then I’ll move uptown.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. My mama gave birth to all six of us with no trouble.”
“She had a husband, didn’t she?”
“You think he was any help?”
“Angelina. If you can swallow your pride and live here on Mr. Vogel’s dime, then you can swallow a bit more pride and let me look after you.”
She drew her eyebrows together. Me and my big mouth. I’d managed to offend her again. Angelina picked up the hat I’d returned and held it out. “You might as well take this back,” she said. “Because if you’re hell-bent on moving in, I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness.”
“That sounds fair to me.” I took the hat.
July 13, 1908
My suspicions were right. Angelina is pregnant. Thank goodness I went to see her. Not only are we friends again, I’ve decided to move in with her—just until after the baby is born. That’s not my real sacrifice, though. Now, instead of going on vacation to the seashore in New Jersey, I’ll be up to my elbows in a bucket of soapy water, helping to clean her East Side tenement.
AMANDA
ANGELINA WAS THE pregnant one, not Olive? Jesus. Only a few more entries were left, but it was a quarter past eleven already, so I made myself put away the journal. I didn’t want to be late meeting Rob; as it was, I’d need to hustle the five or six blocks to Mrs. Kelly’s.
In a way, I was glad to have an excuse to stop reading. I needed a chance to process the news. This meant Angelina was Jane Kelly’s mother. I was pretty sure the math worked out, even though the birth would happen a few months later than I’d figured for Olive. But then why did Jane Kelly have Olive’s trunk?
It was getting hot out. My black capris were too heavy, and my top was soggy from sweat. I stopped to buy a bottle of water. Too bad I didn’t have time to swing by the apartment and change.
Reaching the Stewart House, I entered the air-conditioned, gleaming lobby with relief. The doorman from my first visit called up to the apartment and told me I could take a seat. Perching on a white leather sofa, I realized it was highly unlikely that I’d get to the store by one o’clock. Luckily, it was Saturday and my assistant would be coming in. So I texted Bettin
a to let her know I was running late and she’d have to open without me. She texted back right away that it wouldn’t be a problem. Good, one less thing to worry about.
I leaned back against the sofa and thought about how this building occupied the same footprint as the old Wanamaker’s department store, where Olive bought the book by the misinformed woman doctor. The main floor would’ve existed all around me.
The elevator door opened, and Rob stepped off, holding a box of jumbo-sized Hefty bags. Today he wore a pair of jeans and wore them well. Angelina’s great-grandson, not Joe’s.
“I knew I’d tempt you back,” he said as we went to the doorman for a key to the storage room.
“I have help in the store on Saturdays, so I don’t need to be in till later.”
“That’s lucky. For me, at least.”
The elevator took us down one flight to a dingy gray hallway. A steep metal staircase led to an even lower level where we passed a humongous boiler. Continuing along one more hallway, we reached a door marked STORAGE ROOM. Rob had to jiggle the key, but finally, it unlocked. After opening the door, he hooked the knob with a loop of rope nailed to the wall so it wouldn’t slam shut. “Only the most sophisticated safety precautions down here,” he said.
“I’m impressed.”
He flicked on the lights, illuminating a dungeonlike windowless room filled with floor-to-ceiling cages separated by chain-link fencing. I followed him down a narrow passageway past one padlocked cage after another stocked with valuable belongings: hot-air popcorn poppers, disassembled exercise equipment, rusted file cabinets. Things people couldn’t bring themselves to throw away but would never want; headaches destined to be dealt with by surviving members of the family.
We made a right turn and he stopped, checked a crumpled piece of paper with numbers on it, and announced we’d reached our destination. “My sister warned me about the mess,” he said with a frown. Indeed, everything inside the cage appeared to be randomly crammed inside and stacked into jumbled piles.
“Over the years,” he said, dialing the padlock combination, “Grandma’s had her bring stuff down here.” He pulled on the lock, but it didn’t open. He tried the combination again. “This was not the way my sister wanted to spend her free time, which, as she’s fond of reminding me, she doesn’t have.” He got the combination right and swung open the door.
Astor Place Vintage: A Novel Page 29
