The Bootlegger's Wife: A Love Story

by Terri Lee

  Lena nodded without expression and looked past Frances to study the handsome young man as he turned to leave the room. She was swift enough to catch the wink Frankie tossed to her daughter on his way out. She rolled her eyes and Frances could hear another exasperated sigh escape her mother’s lips. “Do sit down Frances, or do you intend to eat standing up?”

  Frances slid into her chair and picked up her menu.

  “What was that all about?” Lena looked at her daughter with suspicion.

  “Just a friend of mine, saying hello.”

  “You’re not usually interested in introducing casual acquaintances.”

  “It just happened to be on his way, that’s all.”

  “I do hope you’re not serious about that young man.”

  “I’m not serious about anybody, Mother.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way. I see you decided to shave your head as some form of protest.” The clipped tone came from the other side of the menu, as Frances did her best to block her mother’s view. “Apparently you cannot be trusted to be left alone for five minutes.”

  And so it began.

  “I can’t decide how I choose to wear my hair now?” Frances said tiredly as she scanned the lunchtime offerings, without making eye contact.

  “Of course you can. If it’s your intention to look like a prisoner of war that’s entirely up to you.”

  “Wonderful. That was exactly the look I was going for.”

  “As I said, it makes no difference to me, but we’ll see what your father has to say about it.”

  “I doubt if he’ll even notice.”

  “As for me, I have more important things to worry about.” Lena replied.

  Frances didn’t take the bait and ask her mother ‘what sort of things?’ But that didn’t stop Lena from continuing.

  “Evelyn tells me you’ve been out several times with that young man.”

  “His name is Frank. It was just a couple of dinners and some dancing, Mother. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Well whatever has been going on, it’s all over for now. We head home the day after next.”

  “I think I’ll have the salmon. How about you, Mother?” Frances lowered the menu and stared at Lena across the table. Lena averted her eyes, unwilling to take up the challenge she saw there. The two of them were always dancing on the head of a pin.

  Frances despised her mother’s hypocrisy, her false exterior, and her shallowness. When the two of them locked eyes, Lena knew that Frances could see right through her, and Frances knew that Lena knew…so they kept their distance. When forced together, they circled one another like two big cats, each one ready for the other to pounce. The waiter came to the table, unaware that he had entered a minefield carefully disguised with diamonds and pearls and proper manners. Each woman quickly snatched at the reprieve.

  ***

  Frances’s stomach was in knots as she anxiously waited for Frankie to pick her up for their final date. She had so much to say, but would she have the courage to say any of it? Finally, the welcoming sound of his laughter could be heard in the foyer and then he stepped into the room. As always he was the only thing she could see.

  They moved outside into the stifling August heat, still almost unbearable even in the early evening hours.

  “I’ve been summoned home to Vermont. We leave tomorrow. I can’t believe how fast these few weeks have flown by,” Frances said. But Frankie seemed caught up in his own thoughts.

  “So…Frances or Lizzie…whoever you are, it seems that your name is not the only thing you’ve been trying to hide.”

  “What do you mean?” She was caught off guard by his tone.

  “Your family is having an apartment constructed at The Dakota? Don’t think I don’t know what that means.”

  “What does it mean?” She looked at him squarely.

  “It means that your family runs in an entirely different circle than the rest of us.” He looked uncomfortable.

  This was exactly what she had feared. “Why should that matter?” She tried to remain upbeat.

  “I don’t know. Does it?” He quickly glanced over at her and then stared straight ahead as their footsteps fell into a slow rhythm.”It just seems like you’ve been hiding a part of yourself from me.”

  “Nothing important.” She tried to convince him. “So my family has money, what has that to do with me?”

  “That is something that could only be said by someone who has never had to do without it.” Frankie instructed her. “So what does your father do?” he asked, even though she was afraid he wouldn’t want to hear her answer.

  “Everything,” was her short reply.

  “What do you mean everything? Does he own a company?”

  “Yes, several.”

  “Like what?”

  “Banks, hotels, real estate, steel, shipping, …”

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough.” He drew a deep breath, holding up his hand in an attempt to stop the avalanche of bad news. “It’s worse than I thought. I knew I was right when I said you weren’t a hot dog kind of girl.”

  “But I am a hot dog kind of girl.”

  “No you’re not. You’re a champagne and caviar type of girl.”

  “I hate caviar.” Frances wrinkled her nose.

  “Frances please stop. I’m being serious.”

  “No you’re not, you’re being silly.”

  By now, they had reached the park at the end of her block and found a quiet bench to sit on as they continued their conversation.

  “I thought I was way out of my league when I assumed that your family was comparable to Lucy’s family. But this…this is a whole new world.” He shook his head, and it was obvious that the reality of her situation weighed on his shoulders. “What were you doing, slumming for the summer? Or just trying to annoy your parents?”

  “That’s not fair, Frankie.” That stung, and she began to worry that this was not going at all as she had planned. Things were spinning out of control. “I was just trying to be…me.”

  “Just exactly who is that? I don’t know who you are.” Frankie said.

  “I’m the same girl I was yesterday. What difference does it make where my family lives?” she asked plaintively. “Yes, we have a perfectly beautiful home on a perfectly beautiful street. But Lena must always be in the right place and right now she thinks the place to be is The Dakota. So, we’ll have an apartment built to her specifications and she will spend my father’s money as if there’s no tomorrow. And then tomorrow, she will decide she needs to be somewhere else. But that is their life, not mine.”

  “It’s your life too, whether you know it or not.”

  “Look, Frankie, I’ve had the time of my life this summer.” She looked into his eyes and hoped that he could see all the words she was ready to say if he only gave her the smallest signal.

  “I have, too.” He took her hand in his and absentmindedly rubbed her slender fingers. “But it’s time for you to go back to school now.”

  “We can write.” She looked up at him. “I’ll write fabulous letters. Of course, I’ll have to lie, since nothing fabulous ever happens at school. Perhaps you could come up and visit in the fall, and then I’ll be home for Christmas break before we know it.” She was full of plans. But before she finished speaking, Frankie was already shaking his head.

  “No, Frances. Your family would never allow it.”

  “They will allow it. They’ll have to.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Even if they did, I could never fit in to your world. “

  “You don’t have to fit in. I like you just the way you are.”

  “It’s easy to say that now, but trust me, somewhere down the line, it would matter. I saw the way your mother looked at me yesterday.”

  The heat rushed to her face as she could feel the hurt beneath his words. Damn Lena anyway, with her nose up in the air. “I’m sorry about my mother. I tried to warn you.”

  “Yes, I guess you did, but for
some reason I didn’t hear you.”

  “So what are you saying? Are you saying you don’t want to write to me?” Frances was beginning to see her plans crumble before her eyes and a sense of panic rose in her chest. Apparently, Frankie had already made up his mind. “So I’m to be cast aside because my family has money? Now who’s the one being judgmental?”

  Frankie winced, and she could see that her words hit home.

  “Or is this just a convenient excuse, and I was nothing more than a summer dalliance?” She had to fight hard to keep the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. But she would not cry.

  Frankie’s voice was soft and gentle, an odd juxtaposition between the words that were cutting through the air like a knife. “I think you know the truth. I never hid anything from you. But there is no point in writing letters and trying to prolong something that was obviously never meant to be prolonged.”

  She couldn’t believe what he was saying, what was wrong with him? What had happened since yesterday? But aloud, she only repeated the word that had fallen from his lips as if he had no idea how it would wound her.

  “Obviously.”

  “I don’t want you thinking there’s any kind of an understanding between us.” He continued with the patter she couldn’t bear to hear.

  “Of course not.” She lied.

  “You are free to go back to school and break a million hearts, which is what you are meant to do. Go to dances, go to parties, and find a rich young man to sweep you off your feet,” he said.

  Frances wanted to shout, “I’ve already been swept off my feet.” But she remained silent, too proud to speak. Perhaps she had misread him. It was possible that she had been wrong about what they were feeling. Perhaps the feelings were hers alone. After all, they had only known one another for a few short weeks. Now, she sat confused about the emotions she had been so sure of only yesterday. Doubting her own ability to see clearly, she had no one else to blame for her foolishness.

  Frankie stood and walked over to a stooped old man pushing a flower cart. He returned with a single red rose and handed it to Frances. “Something to remember me by. I hope when you think back to this summer you can leave a small spot in your heart for me. Can you do that?”

  Frances buried her nose in the deep velvet petals and breathed deeply, taking a moment to control her voice before she spoke. “I’ll remember every single moment. And I’d like to say the same to you.” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening, “Don’t forget me, Frankie.”

  Frankie looked deep into her big doe eyes, “I could lose my memory a thousand times over and still never forget you.”

  She thought she heard a crack in his voice. Frances forced a small smile to her lips but her face told him everything she had to say. He looked away, as if afraid he might be pulled back into the depths of her eyes and never find his way out.

  He pulled her to her feet, “Now you go back to that school of yours and knock ‘em dead.”

  “Sure.” Frances nodded. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to change his mind. But she would not act like a schoolgirl. If he had made his decision, she would not beg for him to reconsider. In order to keep a tight lid on the sentiments that were in danger of spilling over at any moment, she only allowed a few words to escape.

  “See you around.”

  She turned to head home, carrying her red rose and her shattered dreams, unable to see that Frankie stood with clenched fists as he watched his dreams walk away. She would never know how hard he’d had to fight to keep from running after her and begging her to forget everything he had just said.

  NINE

  “Hello Foster, did you miss me?”

  “Of course, Miss Frances. This house is never the same when you’re not here.”

  “I bet that’s right.”

  Though she said the words he would expect from her, they were not accompanied by the usual tossing of the head or a glint in the eye. The words hung in the air without life.

  “And how was your stay in the city?”

  “Memorable.”

  “Good, good. Glad to hear that you had a nice visit with your cousin.”

  “Yes. My cousin.” Her voice trailed off as she made her way upstairs. “I’ll be in my room.”

  Lena bustled in, giving orders to the driver laden with bags, and brushed past Foster with barely a nod. Frances was glad to be released from the tight confines of the car. It felt good to stretch her legs, it had been a long drive in more ways than one. Her mother’s few attempts at conversation had only fueled Frances’s anger. It took all her strength to stare out the window instead of scream, “What right have you to talk to me as if you haven’t stolen my chance at happiness? You with your snooty airs.”

  Now, Frances stood at her door, gazing around the room. Everything was exactly as she had left it only a few short weeks ago, yet somehow everything looked different. She was different. She threw off her shoes and stretched out across her four poster bed, wrapping her arms around her pillow. Staring out the window, she lay lost in thought, completely unaware of the passage of time, until she was called down for dinner, which she promptly ignored.

  ***

  The next morning, Frances was up early and headed down to the lake before the rest of the family had stirred from their rooms. It was going to be another hot August day. The morning offered little hope. She had always loved this lake. She especially enjoyed coming down to the water in the early morning when the world was still and the lake belonged to her. Memories of happy times clung to the dock. They lived in the water and remained in the tall grass that brushed against her bare legs as she made her way down the path. She let her fingers ruffle their tasseled ends and the tales stored within floated up and out into the August morning.

  Scenes of her youth danced before her. She could see Charles chasing her, their lean brown bodies a testament to the summer sun. The sounds of splashing and teasing that always accompanied their swimming sessions still hung in the heavy air. Further down was the sheltered inlet where they skated in the winter. In the tranquility, she could hear the echoes of their carefree laughter. It seemed so long ago, now.

  She dove into the cool water. There was no inching in toe by toe, for her. It was always head first. She came up gasping for air. The briskness of the lake shocked her senses, and she laughed a little as she pulled herself up onto the dock and stretched out to dry in the morning sun. Laying perfectly still on the old wooden planks, she stared up into a baby blue sky. She watched as the water ran in little rivulets down her arm and the droplets glistened like miniature prisms in the early light.

  Tilting her face up to the sun, she breathed deeply of the clean country air. While she tried to focus her mind on her return to school, Frankie and his smile kept dashing in and out of her thoughts. She had to wonder if he was thinking about her at all, or had he just been passing time? No. She knew in her heart that what she had felt was true. Their time together might have been short, but it was real.

  Whatever else had been going on in Frankie’s mind as he made his decision, she knew he was not playing games. She was sure of it. Then how in the world had everything gone so wrong? It was a quick hop, skip, and a jump to the correct answer. He had come face to face with the enormity of her family’s wealth and position and it was an intimidating picture, especially for a young man of his background. She had seen it happen before, the glassy-eyed realization that she was from a different world.

  Perhaps she was being the selfish one, even contemplating dragging him into her reality. In doing so, she knew whenever anyone looked at him, they would be forever looking down their perfectly pedigreed noses. It hurt her heart to even think about it. Frankie deserved so much better than that.

  If only she had known how fleeting their time would be, she would have paid closer attention to every detail. If she was honest, she would have to ask herself if she would have been willing to risk her heart at all if she knew there would be no happy ending. There was freedom in
the not knowing. Perhaps she wouldn’t have allowed herself to experience any of it, and that would have been a shame. It was a hard lesson learned, she thought.

  She also knew she would be more careful next time. And that too was a shame.

  She did her best to cast her worries aside. He had probably already moved on. It was time for her to do the same. Still, she he couldn’t help the ache deep inside of her, at the thought of him. It would take a little more time for that wound to heal.

  ***

  After a late breakfast, Frances went in search of her grandmother, who was still in her room.

  “Good morning, Grand-Mère .” Frances leaned over the old woman propped up on lace edged pillows and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Of course, of course.” Marguerite waved away any concerns with a frail hand. “I’m just taking advantage of my old age. One of the blessings about getting old is that you can be a little bit lazy and get away with it. I’m taking my breakfast in bed nowadays.” She smiled conspiratorially.

  “Good for you.” Frances grinned as she settled on the end of the bed and tucked her legs beneath her cotton shift. “So what have you been up to while I was gone?”

  Marguerite looked over to her granddaughter and shook her finger, “That is not fair, that was my question for you.” The older woman would not be outsmarted. “So would you like to tell me about your young man?”

  “Boy, news sure travels fast in this family.” Frances frowned.

  “That’s what families are for. The most I have to look forward to is a bit of gossip here and there.” Marguerite pretended to be fully engrossed in the act of straining her tea, giving Frances a chance to gather her thoughts.

  “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have anything to offer for your entertainment.” Frances mindlessly picked at the embroidery on the coverlet.

  “I think perhaps you do.”

  Frances sighed, “I might have had a young man, until I got the bright idea to introduce him to Lena. Then he quickly decided that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.” She paused for moment. “I suppose if I am to be completely fair, I can’t blame this one entirely on Lena.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “But it’s mostly her fault.”