by Terri Lee
From the landing, Frances had a sweeping view of the large room below, almost as if she had box seats to the newest play in town. The Brocade Room was the definition of opulence. Just when the designers thought they had gone over the top, they added a little bit more. Sumptuous burgundy velvet curtains with thick gold bullion fringe provided the backdrop to the stage where the band was happily nestled. Imposing marble columns with gold filigree capitals bestowed an air of seriousness to the lush brocade wallpaper and soft carpeting in the same shade of burgundy.
The second level was devoted to petite round tables covered with white cloths and a single small lamp casting a golden circle of light just enough for two. The entire room lent itself to romantic conversations and the whispered beginnings of love affairs. Another few steps down brought one to the polished dance floor where couples were swirling to the latest sounds, and Frances couldn’t wait to enter the mix.
She grinned as she leaned over and said in Lucy’s ear, “I’m going to dance until my shoes fall off.”
Lucy shook her head, “Let’s just hope someone asks us.”
“Are you kidding?” Frances looked at her cousin with alarm. “As soon as the guys in this room get an eyeful of our haircuts, they’re going to know they are dealing with the most sophisticated girls in the place. We’ll have to beat them off with sticks.” She turned her perfect little nose up in the air for effect.
Lucy burst out laughing and Frances had to join in. They took their time as they made their way around the sprawling room. The orchestra was playing one of her favorites, ‘A Good Man is Hard to Find’ and Frances nodded in agreement with the theme, but she couldn’t keep from moving with the music as she made her way among the party goers.
The pair chose one of the little tables that offered an advantageous view and sat down prepared to peruse the room in greater detail. Frances loved to study people, often times making up scandalous or outrageous stories about them. Besides it was also a great opportunity to size up the female competition.
No sooner had the girls taken their seats than Frances’s earlier prediction came true. A young man made his way over and asked to dance with Lucy. Lucy turned around and grinned slyly at her cousin as the young man led her out onto the crowded dance floor. Lucy being asked to dance first was not quite what Frances had envisioned for the evening, but Frances shooed her away with a grin anyway.
Taking note of the all dresses in a rainbow of sorbet hues, Frances realized there would be a lot of competition this evening. Yet from the looks of things, there were also plenty of handsome young men circling the room. The usual band of peacocks was on display and Frances wrinkled her nose, reminded of Graydon Harris.
Her attention was drawn to an assembly of young soldiers and she smiled at the prospect.
In Frances’s opinion there was absolutely nothing finer than a healthy young man in uniform. Women throughout the centuries could attest and Frances was certainly not immune to the raw sensuality of such maleness.
Several of them were lined up along the bar, knowing full well this provided them with the most opportune platform from which to see and be seen. There they stood, America’s finest exports. Owning the room.
Frances’s attention was drawn to one tall, bronzed young man in the middle of an animated tale, and when he laughed, she knew she had never seen anyone so alive.
His pale blonde hair looked like a halo. It made quite a statement in contrast with his tanned skin. But it was his laughter that drew her in. It was as if a spotlight was on him. She watched him for several moments from the safety of her dark little corner of the room. Chin in hand, she mentally placed herself in the middle of his conversation, pretending his laughter could be for her.
She blushed as she saw him gaze her way. Embarrassed to be caught staring, she turned away feigning an immediate interest on the other side of the room as she waved to a nonexistent acquaintance.
A voice broke in to her pantomime. “Frances, you look adorable.”
It was Sarah Wisehart and Bonnie Townsend, old friends and former classmates. She stood to hug the pair. It had been a year since the girls had seen one another.
“I love your hair,” Bonnie admired her old friend. “It suits you. It looks like fun.”
“Oh thanks, I just had it done this week. I’m still getting used to it.”
“I’m dying to get mine cut.”
“Just do it. You won’t regret it.”
“I’m not as brave as you are. I have to think about things a lot longer.”
“Is Charles in town?” Sarah asked. Though she attempted an air of nonchalance Frances knew well there was nothing truly innocent about her question. Sarah had been in love with Charles since she was a little girl. The fact that he was practically engaged was an insignificant fact. She had loved him through many other girlfriends and she was sure he would come to his senses in due course and realize that his soul mate had been right beside him all the time, disguised as his little sister’s sidekick.
“No, not yet. But he and Cassandra and her parents are coming in later.” Frances said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She saw Sarah’s shoulders sag at the news.
“May I join you?”
Frances looked up into the handsome face of her golden-haired hero. His brilliant smile was even more deadly up close. Sarah and Bonnie knew when it was time to make a quick exit, and scurried off with promises to see one another before Frances left the city.
“Aye, aye soldier.” Frances struggled to gather her composure.
The young man shook his head and laughed at her.
“Did I say something wrong?” Frances looked up at him, all innocence.
“Oh, just everything.” He bit his lip. “Aye, aye is an address to a sailor, and I’m not a soldier, either. I’m a Marine.” The last part said with the utmost pride as he drew himself up to his full height. Fresh from the war, and used to victory on the battlefield, his swagger warned that this ballroom would be no match for him, tonight.
Frances widened her big brown eyes and drew him in. “Gee I’m sorry. I don’t speak military. Perhaps I could find someone to help me out with that.” She began to search the room in hopes of finding a proper tutor.
He leaned close, “I’d be happy to help you out.” The nearness of him caused Frances to catch her breath. Oh that smile, and those teeth, whiter than white.
“Sgt. Francis Lee, United States Marines, at your service, Ma’am.”
Now it was her turn to shake her head in disbelief. “Did you say, Francis?”
“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No…not at all.”
“Everybody usually calls me Frankie.”
“Good. Frankie’s good, I like Frankie.”
Frances sat down and waved to the empty seat beside her. Frankie slid in and addressed her from across the table.
“And you are?”
“Fr…” she caught herself. “I’m Elizabeth…no, Lizzie.”
Frankie leaned back in his chair, taking in the full measure of this little spitfire, as a slow grin spread across his face in obvious amusement. “Are you sure you’re done?”
“Yes, quite.” She tossed her head.
“Well alright then…Lizzie, do you like to dance?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
They moved to the dance floor and Frances stepped into his accomplished frame, placing her small hand in his. He smiled down at her and she looked away, afraid her feelings would betray her and sweep across her face for him to see. She had no idea why she was breathing so fast.
She loved to dance, and always anticipated the first moment when a handsome partner pulled her out onto the floor. That first contact of hands pressed together, of breath so close and all the while, pretending that you really weren’t interested in the touching at all, that it was only about the dancing. What a delicious game.
He was very smooth as he led
her around the floor and she tried without much success to keep her mind on the task at hand and not on the fact that she could feel his thigh pressing against hers. Lucy caught her eye and nodded in approval and Frances flashed a triumphant smile in return, confident they made an enviable couple.
“I’m impressed.” Frances cocked her head up at him, “The Marine knows how to dance.”
“As I said, I’m at your service, Ma’am.”
She could have crawled inside that grin. She laughed and he spun her around the floor until she was dizzy.
Unwilling to take a break until the band did, they danced through several songs. During one of the slower numbers, Frances looked up into Frankie’s face as if she were looking for an answer. After leaving the shadows of the perimeter of the room and seeing her Marine in better light, she would have to say that his thick head of hair was not simply pale blonde after all, but had streaks of white, as if years in the sun had bleached indiscriminate strands. “How old are you anyway?”
“I’m twenty-five. Don’t let the hair fool you.”
“It’s very striking.”
“Don’t get too used to it. It’s probably going to turn completely white before long. I’m told it’s hereditary, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Why is that?”
“I never knew my parents.”
Frances sensed this was not the topic for the dance floor and left it at that.
The girls caught up with one another in the ladies room, eager to share their thoughts on the evening thus far. Frances spoke to Lucy’s reflection in the long mirror as Lucy powdered her nose at the marble vanity. “I’ve decided that my name will be Lizzie.”
Lucy shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that, Frances.”
“You.” Frances gave her cousin a playful shove. “Would you believe my Marine’s name is Francis?”
“No!” Lucy exclaimed.
“I swear I can’t get away from it. But anyway, he goes by Frankie.” Frances arranged her dark bangs and drew her lips into a pretty pout to inspect the effect. Satisfied, she turned her attention to Lucy. “Your soldier is cute.”
Lucy grinned. “Yeah, his name is Richard. I think we’ve hit the jackpot tonight. They’re both great dancers.”
Frances snapped the clasp on her evening bag. “We’d better get back out there before someone steals them from under our freshly powdered noses.”
Frances returned to the little table where Frankie was waiting for her. She sipped on her soda, using the opportunity to study him over the rim of her glass. He seemed to be lost in thought as he stared into his pale golden ale.
“I can’t believe I’ve been in every rat hole all over Europe, rooting out evil, and the real enemy was a group of pinched-faced teetotalers right here at home, hell-bent on stealing my beer.”
Frances knew he was referring to the upcoming impact of the prohibition legislation. “I’m sorry.” She laughed at his joke, “It hardly seems fair.”
“Fair? No, there’s nothing fair about it. The least this country can do to honor their returning war heroes is to offer them a beer upon their return. I feel sorry for the poor chaps who will step ashore in the next few months and are greeted with a glass of milk. I guess I’ll have to book a passage on the next ship back to France in order to have a drink.”
“I’m sure there will always be plenty of ways to find alcohol.”
He smirked. “Have no fear. If there is beer to be found, I’ll find it.”
He leaned back in his chair, looking like he was born there, with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He then leaned forward, coiled tightly as he became caught up in his own storytelling. While she tried her best to listen, she couldn’t tell you anything she’d heard. Words were only background noise to the night that belonged to his deep blue eyes. When did eyes ever come in that shade of blue, she wondered.
The conversation flowed like a lazy river between them, easy and unhurried. Although most of the time had been spent on the dance floor. Dancing meant more time with his hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the twists and turns, and for that, she was grateful. Dancing also meant her face pressed close to his neck, where the smell of his skin left her feeling lightheaded.
Before she knew it, the hours had flown by, but not without plans to meet the next day as she scribbled her address on a napkin. Lucy and her soldier, Richard, agreed to join in as they made plans to make it a foursome.
As the girls made their way to the exit, Frances turned from the door for one last look and saw Frankie carefully folding the napkin and placing it in the pocket over his heart, with a little pat for good luck. She took a deep breath, in an attempt to control the quick rush of emotion that washed over her, and headed out into the warm night air.
FIVE
He asked for a dance, but took her entire evening. In fact he had taken her by surprise, and Frances Elizabeth Louise never saw it coming. Though safely tucked into her bed, Frances was still spinning around the dance floor.
The hour was late and voices were already strained, but Frances and Lucy would end the day as they chose to end every day together. Talking over recent events until the intervals between chatter stretched out longer and longer. Those last sleepy moments, heads on pillows, and whispers bouncing between twin beds was always the best part of the day.
As talk focused on the young men at the center of their thoughts, Frances mused aloud, “Now that is a face I could like.”
“No doubt. He’s adorable,” Lucy whispered.
“No. It’s more than that. There is something in his face that is kind and …and good.” Frances struggled to find just the right word.
“Yeah, it’s called good-looking.”
Both girls tried hard to stifle their laughter, somehow everything was always funnier in the dark. Frances pulled the blankets over her head and kicked her feet as she squealed with delight. She’d had quite a night.
Each girl lay with her own thoughts for a time before a final whisper floated up from Lucy’s bed. “Frances. Frances.”
Finally from the stillness came Frances’s low voice as she removed the covers from her face. “There is no one here by that name. Would you like to speak to Lizzie?”
This set off another round of silliness, before Frances was able to catch her breath and say, “What did you want?”
“I can’t remember, now.”
The night crept in and wrapped the room in silence. As she listened to the soft purring from Lucy’s side of the room, she realized that Lucy had given up the fight. But Frances didn’t want to fall asleep just yet, she wanted to mull over every detail of this magical evening. Not quite ready to share all of her thoughts with Lucy, she held them close and pulled a protective curtain around the image of Frankie’s blue eyes as her eyes lost the battle against sleep as well.
***
Frances could tell that she was more excited about her date than Lucy was. When the young men showed up, she had to keep reminding herself to breathe deeply. Frankie and Richard stood ramrod straight, hats in hand, and the once generous sized living room seemed full to capacity with their maleness. Though Frances had had plenty of dates in her past and countless flirtations, she could honestly say she had never felt such butterflies or felt so unsure of herself. When she looked at Frankie, she was at a loss as to why he seemed so at ease, so confident.
Introductions were made and Uncle Nate inquired about the plans for the day. Satisfied that the young men would return the girls intact, he released them to their prospective dates.
Once outside in the warm June air, the girls looked to their escorts and asked what was on the agenda.
Frankie spoke up first, “We thought we would go to Coney Island.”
“That sounds great,” Frances nodded. In fact she didn’t much care where they went.
The foursome paid their ten cent fare and the usual small talk occupied the forty minute train ride to
their destination. Frances was eager to step out of the stifling train car and let the ocean breeze ruffle her hair. Lifting her nose in the air, she said, “Uh oh, roasted peanuts are calling me.”
“Follow your nose, my lady.” Frankie waved her on.
The boardwalk was teeming with families of excited children running from one attraction to the next and dashing in and out of the dreamy couples walking arm in arm. Frances threaded her arm through Frankie’s and was happy to enter her pretty navy blue dress with white polka dots into the parade.
Barkers enticed those who happened to glance their way with the promise of unseen wonders that lay hidden just past the darkened entranceways of their curious establishments. The little group laughed and skipped past the shady characters.
However, they did stop to participate in a few activities. The guys were anxious to show off for their dates, after all. Frankie and Richard both sidled up to a marksmanship game after being taunted by the attendant that perhaps they wouldn’t be able to hit the target. Frances was impressed as she watched Frankie lift the rifle and rest his cheek onto the gunstock as he lined up the bulls-eye in his sight. He looked so serious, she had to smile to herself. But she squealed with appropriate delight when he handed her a little toy dog as proof of his prowess.
Further down the boardwalk they happened upon a mechanical genie dressed in exotic attire and Frances ran up to the glass booth with excitement.
“I have to see what my future holds.” Frances handed her bag of peanuts to Lucy as she dug around in her little purse, but Frankie produced the coin first.
“Let me,” he said.
She placed it carefully in the slot and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. The automaton turned his head from side to side, with a robotic wave of his hands over the large crystal ball before spitting out the personal information pulled from the secrets of the universe that pertained to her and her alone on a tiny strip of paper.
