by Joani Ascher
Lloyd looked up at the star-filled sky and laughed. “That sense of humor of yours is so special. I won’t be gone more than a week. May I call on you when I return?”
Jane was relieved. She did not want too much time to pass before she saw Lloyd again. “Yes, you may.”
“Would it be all right if I embrace you?” he asked, surprising her with the sudden huskiness his voice. She nodded, unable to speak. He reached his arms around her completely, holding her close. “It will need to last for a week,” he warned. “Won’t it?”
She looked up at his face, trying to figure out what to say about that. His lips on hers cut short the need for an answer.
****
Prescott studied late into the evening, as he had every night for months. His intention to become an officer if there was a war hung in the balance. As much as he hated the prospect of losing his business, his country was more important, and he had to be prepared.
He fervently hoped the problems in Europe would be solved and war would not come. He still had to repay the loans he had taken out to finish college after his father cut him off and to start his business. Instead of working for someone else, which would have been a safer way to begin his career, he had opted to begin from scratch on his own. He knew he was being headstrong, but that had not stopped him. Consequently, there had been many days when he was not sure he would be able to pay the rent on his office, and quite a few occasions when he had skipped dinner in order to avoid the risk of giving up Jane. That was the last thing he ever wanted to happen, especially since, on days when things were the most difficult, her quiet confidence in him was what kept him going.
His meals were more predictable now, since his client list was building, even including some of his father’s legal clients. Still, he spent as little of his income as possible, saving every spare penny for his seat on the stock exchange. Without it, he could never trade on the floor of the stock market.
While seeing men who knew his father did a lot for his business, it did little to ease his mind about the break. The men often reminded him of his father’s disapproval. There was nothing he could do about that, however. He intended to live his life on his own terms. But if war came, he could lose everything he had left.
Intent on blocking that worry from his mind, he dropped to the floor and began doing pushups.
Chapter Four
The week Lloyd was away was the longest Jane had ever endured. Normally, the rise and fall of the stocks, the clamor of the ticker tape, and the abundance of information Mr. Weaver taught her daily made Jane’s day seem full. She more often than not was surprised when the work day ended. But the week Lloyd was gone seemed interminable.
Olivia kept the date alive, chirping about how wonderful it was that Jane had found someone and endlessly asking for details of that evening. “Tell me about the band,” she said, patting the pink brocade couch so Jane would sit beside her. It was one of the few good pieces of furniture they had been able to keep from their old home. She leaned dreamily back against a white lace antimacassar. “Were they the cat’s meow?” Before Jane could tell her, she would ask another question. “Was the restaurant really ritzy? Tell me more about the food.”
Jane told her everything she could remember about the dinner. She described the shrimp cocktail, the salad, and the prime ribs. Olivia lamented that Jane had not ordered dessert. “I just couldn’t eat another bite,” Jane reminded her. “But I saw the pastry cart.” She described that in detail, even exaggerating the size of the chocolate shavings on the Black Forest Torte.
“That Lloyd is so swell!” Olivia said, jumping up and spinning around. “And he really likes you. Did you see his eyes pop out when he saw you in that dress?”
Jane felt her face flush, and turned away so Olivia would not see. It did not help that Mrs. McGill kept asking her similar questions about the evening. She had come up the next morning to retrieve her niece’s dress and sat in the burgundy lady’s chair, expectantly, until Jane told her where she and Lloyd had gone and what they did. “He seems like a decent fellow,” Mrs. McGill had said, “but you must be careful. Don’t let him break your heart.”
Lloyd would never do that, Jane was sure. Every night, when she should have been sleeping, she relived her date, thinking about how Lloyd had held her hand while they walked on the sidewalk, and how gently he had taken her elbow when they stepped into the street. The memory of their kiss lingered on her lips, and she caught herself staring at them in her mirror several times a day. They looked the same, although until now she had never had occasion to study them. But she could not help wondering why he had kissed her, or taken her out. He could have had any girl he wanted, yet he seemed to want to spend time with her.
Sunday night of the following week arrived without word from Lloyd. By the end of the evening, Jane was a mass of goose bumps and considering the possibility that he might not return. She began to re-examine that evening in her mind, looking for signs he did not like her, or maybe did not find her appealing. He had certainly had the chance to get to know her during their date, and maybe he was disappointed. She feared he would not be back.
Jane was crestfallen. Olivia, who had been so excited on Friday night in anticipation of the return of her sister’s beau, had lost her fizz. Now she sat quietly, as if thinking the same thoughts as Jane. Lloyd seemed to have gone out of her life as quickly as he came in. They had been so foolish, thinking something would come of the date.
Jane went through the motions of her life feeling gloomy. Olivia tried to cheer her up on Monday evening, but by Tuesday had moved to a new theme. She told Jane what a fool Lloyd was to stay away. “Pearl was wrong, you know, when she said you were like her, not destined to marry for passion. I think you’re beautiful. There is someone out there for you, waiting to sweep you off your feet. And if Lloyd is so stupid he doesn’t know how great you are, he’s all wet.”
Jane appreciated how Olivia stood up for her, but she could not deny the truth. What she had thought was the beginning of passion, with Lloyd, was nothing more than a flirtation. If that were the case, and true passion was an impossibility, she would not bother seeking love. It hardly seemed worth the effort to seek out the suitable but uninspired match Pearl had thought Jane might one day make. She would rather be alone. But the pain was still raw.
The next day Mr. Weaver asked her if something was wrong. “You’ve been so quiet this week,” he said. “Is something bothering you?”
Jane was touched by his concern and assured him she was fine. She asked if he would like her to bring anything back for him for lunch, but he said he had to go out anyway. He left shortly before she did.
All the way down the street to the luncheonette, Jane thought about Lloyd. It was surprisingly painful, and she chided herself for being so silly. She had to forget about him and about the prospect of falling in love. It was not her destiny.
A strange sweetness filled the air on Jane’s return to the office. She was puzzled by it, until she saw the yellow roses on her desk. Her heart fluttered, and she rushed toward them, looking for a card. She knew they were from Lloyd. He had not forgotten her.
“I hope they cheered you up,” said Mr. Weaver, from the doorway to his office.
For a second Jane was totally confused. Then she realized Lloyd had not sent the flowers to show his love. Mr. Weaver had bought them out of pity. Her face got hot at her stupidity and tears of disappointment filled her eyes. She could not look at Mr. Weaver as she rushed out of the office to the washroom. There, the sobs that had been building up exploded, and Jane curled up on the floor and wept.
When she returned, she forced a smile to her lips and thanked her employer for his thoughtfulness. But he looked quite annoyed. Who could blame him? The roses were so thoughtful, and she had been unforgivably rude. The hours stretched endlessly until five o’clock, and her embarrassment hung heavy in the air, making her miserable.
****
Prescott chastised himself. What had seemed su
ch a good idea earlier—roses to cheer Jane up, since she had seemed so distracted last week, and positively sad since Monday, was a rousing failure. He had succeeded only in upsetting her more and driving her to tears.
He tried to rid himself of the image of her reaction, the way her eyes had looked when she ran out. How could he have hurt her like that? He realized he had better learn more about women if he did not want to distress Jane again. It was not as if she were the kind of woman to feign upset in order to garner attention. It was almost the opposite, that she was embarrassed because he had sent those flowers. He would never do that again.
****
Jane had her head down as she walked through the door to the street because she was so upset with herself, and she almost ran the feather on her hat into Lloyd, who was waiting for her outside her office building.
She was not sure what to do or say. She was not even certain she should acknowledge him, but felt she had no choice when he stepped into her path. She looked into his eyes, searching for some clue as to how to respond.
“Hello, Jane,” he said, doffing his fedora and bending forward. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. I’ve been going crazy not seeing you for such a long time.”
He seemed so happy to see her she felt her anger at not hearing from him melt away. It was soon replaced by such a tightness in her chest at his earnestness she thought she would faint. That she had never once fainted in her life did not matter. She had never had a man show her such attention.
But where was he all this time? Why hadn’t he called when he said he would?
Her silence seemed to trouble him. He looked at her closely. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.
What could she say? That her feelings were hurt because he failed to see or even call her when she expected he would? That she had embarrassed herself with Mr. Weaver, when she was disappointed his roses were not from Lloyd? What rights did she have? Reason told her to answer in the negative.
He took her response as if she had welcomed him with a big hug. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, falling into step beside her. “I sat through all those meetings and all that traveling wishing you were beside me.”
Jane was unable to tell if he was joking. But she turned to him, where he nearly skipped beside her on the sidewalk, and asked, “What kind of meetings?”
For a moment, it seemed as if Lloyd was considering what to say. And his response, that he was in Washington, D.C. to talk about some aspects of the New Deal and the banking commission, was so rudimentary it might have been the explanation of a father to a five-year-old.
Jane turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “I have some knowledge of the subject. Could you be more specific?”
Lloyd stood stock still with his mouth slightly agape. Then he threw his head back, nearly losing his hat in the process, and laughed out loud. Dozens of passersby turned to stare at him, and a few hurried past as if he were in need of psychiatric assistance. After a moment, he recovered himself, and as he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, he apologized. “Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “You work for a stock broker. You know something about the new regulatory agencies.”
Jane nodded her head slightly, barely deigning to accept his apology. “I started working for Mr. Weaver in November of ’39. Since then, I have briefed each new regulation, as well as familiarized myself with every regulation since the establishment of the Securities and Exchange Commission.”
Lloyd’s eyes widened. “I suspected you were smart as well as beautiful,” he said appreciatively.
His unexpected and, in her opinion, undeserved, remark took all the wind out of Jane’s sails, and caused her to feel uncomfortable. Olivia was the beautiful one.
That thought reminded her that her sister would be waiting, and she did not want to be late. She also did not want to get involved with Lloyd again. She had never felt such pain as when he did not call. It would not do to get her hopes up like that again.
“I have to go home,” she said, attempting to go around Lloyd, who was blocking her path. “My sister…”
He cut her off. “Olivia. A lovely child. Yes, you should go home to her. But, if I may, could I possibly accompany you? I would so like to spend the time with you.”
With some persuasion, Jane agreed. After an initial moment of discomfort, they chatted amiably on the subway about Lloyd’s trip and its several unexpected extensions. While they rode the streetcar Lloyd told Jane about some of the characters he had met.
When they got off on Rogers Avenue, they walked past all the shops Jane so often frequented. The fruit and vegetable stand was still open, and the vendor smiled at Jane while giving Lloyd the once-over. It was the same at the butcher shop. It gave Jane chills, mostly pleasant, to be seen with Lloyd.
When they got to Jane’s corner, Olivia was coming down the side street. She looked in surprise at the two of them, and frowned.
“You should come home, Jane,” she said. “There are too many bums on the street.”
Jane was horrified. “Olivia, apologize.”
“I will not.” She turned to Lloyd. “You were not very nice to my sister, going away like that and not calling. Mrs. McGill said we should give you the brush-off.”
Jane put her hand up. “Olivia! Enough. Go inside. I’ll be right up.” She watched as Olivia turned on her heel and went up the steps.
Her face burning, she wished Olivia had followed her own advice to Jane. She had said, “If you see Lloyd again, you must cut him dead.” That would have been a lot better than giving him her opinion, which in some respects, Jane shared.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Lloyd said. “She’s just looking out for you. I understand completely. But I won’t give you up. You mean too much to me.”
He scowled, pondering the problem. “Maybe we should let her think we’re not seeing each other. At least for a while, until she cools down.”
Jane did not like the idea of hiding something from her sister. At the same time, she was moved by Lloyd’s having said how much he wanted to be with her. He took her hands in his own and said, “I can’t let you go. Could this just be our little secret?”
Chapter Five
“I’ll be working late again tonight,” Jane told Olivia. “Don’t wait dinner for me.”
Olivia, who lay prone on the couch with her textbook propped open on the coffee table and her slippered feet in the air, pouted. “Mr. Weaver works you too hard. You haven’t been home more than two nights in three weeks. I know he’s helping you learn about being a broker, but do you have to have lessons so often?”
Mr. Weaver had lately begun taking Jane to dinner on Wednesday evenings, the one night a week he did not have a standing engagement. He spent the time telling her about the history and intricacies of the stock exchange, and Jane found it absorbing, catching some of her employer’s enthusiasm for the complexity of the market. They had interesting discussions about other subjects as well, at those dinners, which were always at modest but lovely restaurants. Jane came to appreciate just how thoughtful and insightful he was. At the same time, she saw how hard it was for him to be patient sometimes, waiting for his opportunities to materialize. She had to admire his self-control.
Jane felt honored that Mr. Weaver took so much time out of his social schedule to work with her. And she loved hearing about the opera and symphony. Twice he took her to an opera at the Met, and once to a concert, when his parents were unable to use the tickets. She had been so surprised he asked her to accompany him, and very grateful, but she knew it was only because the rich society young ladies he saw were not likely to be available on short notice.
“I would never have guessed how different it looks close up,” she said breathlessly one evening when the curtains parted, revealing a glittering set for Die Zäuberflote.
“Someday you’ll see the whole season,” he predicted, with his mustache close to her ear. She hoped he was right.
During those evenings, they talked of their fa
milies, of her sister, and his parents and married sister. Mr. Weaver always accompanied her home after one of those evenings, which seemed to race by. She came home with her head filled with information and often music, feeling pleasant and serene.
Jane reached for her purse and turned to her sister, who was still in her bathrobe. “It isn’t only work, you know. Several of those evenings I was at meetings of the club.”
“I don’t see why a book group would meet every week. How do you have time to read so many books?”
“I’m a fast reader.”
Jane hated lying to her sister about those other evenings she went out. They were quite different from those with Mr. Weaver. She and Lloyd went to dark jazz clubs, where they nursed their drinks until the end of the set. They walked a lot, and window shopped, and Lloyd told her about all the things he would have someday when his ship came in. “You probably think I’m silly,” he said. “Wishing for things you take for granted every day.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have so little means,” he told her. “I long for the day when I don’t have to wonder if I’ll be able to pay next month’s rent.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Jane said, leaning close and feeling his warmth. “I long for that day, too.”
Lloyd got the strangest look on his face. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you say your father had left you money to get along on?”
Jane suddenly realized she had somehow misled Lloyd. “I may have overstated it. But we get by.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of sorrow, “I didn’t know.”
Sometimes he said things that were so funny, and it nearly killed Jane to not repeat them to Olivia. But she could never breathe a word.
It was not as if there was anything wrong with what she and Lloyd did, but Jane thought it best that her sister not know. Olivia had made it perfectly clear how she felt about Lloyd, and Jane was not sure enough about him to tell her she was wrong. Several times Jane was tempted to tell her sister, because Lloyd had been mostly reliable, but for some reason she held her tongue. Each subsequent date made her lie feel much bigger. That kept her quiet.
