by Karin Tanabe
“Oh, no” said Frederick quickly. “We couldn’t impose. It wouldn’t be right.”
“And we’ve just come from that direction,” said Anita. “We were just taking some air until we headed back to Boston.”
“May we walk you toward Mrs. Aldrich’s?” asked Frederick, both he and Anita praying they could lead her away quickly. They were less likely to see familiar faces in Nettie’s sophisticated residential neighborhood.
“You must have been walking circles then. The Yard is this way,” Lottie said, pointing behind her. “Unless this is all a lie, Frederick Hemmings, and you’re actually having an illicit romance at the Magnolia? Maybe Anita is covering it all up for you?”
“Lottie!” Anita exclaimed, as she scanned the face of every passerby, fearing the worst.
“I most certainly am not,” said Frederick, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. Anita glimpsed his expression and knew his intention immediately. It was far better for Lottie to think that he had spent the day indulging in an affair at the Magnolia than that he was heading to a Negro home.
“You know, I’m in no real rush to get to Nettie’s,” said Lottie. Her face made it plain that she thought she’d touched on the truth. “Both of you are so much more interesting. And Frederick, I was awfully disappointed that you were not able to come to Phil. It would have been so much more memorable a day if you were there with me.”
“Come now, I think you enjoy flattering me,” said Frederick, shepherding Lottie away from the hotel, Anita trailing behind them, still in a state of alarm. “I’m sure you had far more pleasant company.”
“Not at all!” she protested. “A Hemmings is as good as it gets.”
The three walked quickly, leaving the hotel full of holiday patrons behind them. Frederick and Anita were extremely thankful that their overcoats hid the plain clothes they were wearing underneath, as they were dressed to tutor, not to visit with Lottie Taylor.
“Come to think of it,” said Lottie, looking around her, “why don’t we all sit at the Magnolia for a while and catch up on all the holiday gossip? There’s nothing very interesting this way, and I have plenty of time. Besides, now that I’ve run into you together, I feel rude and foolish for not having tracked down your address and called on your family. If you give it to me now, I can call on you tomorrow and finally meet the rest of the charming Hemmings family.”
“I’m afraid our younger sister, Elizabeth, has come down with a terrible bronchitis,” said Frederick instantly as Anita tried to calm her pulse. “We are not having visitors this week, but I’m happy to ask Mother if she thinks Elizabeth will improve later in the week.”
“No,” said Lottie, thinking. “This week I am very taken with the occult and an illness is never a good sign. Plus, I am due to train back home with father tomorrow evening. But I’m so glad fate intervened to correct my social misstep and I was able to see the two of you today.”
Frederick saw Anita close her eyes in relief. “But let us all have something to eat at the Magnolia,” he said. “We must enjoy the pleasure of your company a little while longer, Miss Taylor.”
For the next hour, Anita and Frederick not only had to miss their tutoring appointments, which meant they would lose their positions, but they also sat rudely with their coats on, making excuses about the chill and their fear of spreading Elizabeth’s illness.
“Frederick Hemmings, as you tortured me by not attending Phil Day, I shall torture you by telling you about all the fun we had,” said Lottie between bites of Viennese chocolate cake.
Anita had been so shaken by Lottie’s sudden appearance that it hadn’t occurred to her that her roommate might tell Frederick about her attending the dance with Porter Hamilton. She looked at Lottie in a panic but was unable to catch her eye.
“Caroline and Belle, our two closest friends, attended with charming Yale men, and Anita—” She paused midsentence as Anita kicked her hard under the table. “And Anita . . .” she continued, “had a most amusing time, also, even though she was without a formal escort.”
She looked at Anita and gave her a knowing smile. “Yes, your sister is quite a wonderful dancer. Though she danced alone! Completely and utterly alone. Just her practicing steps with the wall.”
“That’s enough talk about Vassar,” said Anita, standing. “Please excuse me for a moment. I will leave you two to speak on different subjects.” She wound her way through the large room toward the powder room. Anita was used to being in cahoots with Frederick, not conspiring with Lottie to hide something from him. She hated lying to her brother, but she knew he would not be able to contain himself over Porter. He would have erupted right in front of Lottie, with an intensity that was unexplainable.
When she returned, she saw Frederick sitting alone, his face stony. She looked around the room for Lottie and saw only the back of her coat as she hurried out of the hotel.
“What did you say to Lottie that upset her so?” she asked in alarm.
“What did I say, Anita?” said Frederick angrily. “I explained to the aristocratic Lottie Taylor that we could never be romantically involved. That I would be a great disappointment to her if she knew me better. I told her to give up hope with regard to any sort of romance, that she had to forget me at once.”
“You didn’t!” said Anita, choking out the words. She was quite sure that no man had ever spoken to Lottie Taylor that way and that she would be furious. “How could you do such a thing?”
“I had no choice, did I?” said Frederick coldly. “We are but a short journey from the institute where I attend school as a Negro, she asked for our home address to call on us later this week—don’t you realize how dangerous this all is?” he said, motioning to the hotel’s sumptuous lobby. “Do you realize what I do for you, Anita? To protect you? The things I should say to you now, the things I could!”
“I have no notion what you are talking about, Frederick,” said Anita. “Just speak plainly.”
Frederick looked at her, anger etched on his face. “I don’t have a thing to say. You seem intent on ruining your life despite my advice, so please, Anita, continue to do so.”
CHAPTER 15
On their first day back in January, Anita left her room in the afternoon for her required exercise. When she returned a half hour later, Lottie was reclining on the couch in their parlor, her head on a velvet pillow, waiting for her.
Taking barely a second to greet Anita, Lottie launched into a riff on her plan to eat all of Belle Tiffany’s dinner along with her own because Belle was in the infirmary and being forced to starve away her fever.
“The dear doctor must have taken part in the Salem Witch Trials,” said Lottie, her legs kicking the couch rhythmically.
“Dr. Thelberg is two hundred years old?” asked Anita.
“She might have been reincarnated a few times since then, but she was there, I assure you. Only witches require seniors to starve. And tonight they’re serving lamb! I stopped by the carving room on the way back from the messenger room and it looked divine.” Lottie rolled over to face the wall and said carelessly, “Oh, the post arrived. You had a letter from Frederick. I think I put it on the card table. Or was it your desk?”
Anita looked, angry with herself for not getting to the mail first, and spotted the letter on her wooden desk, where her papers had been pushed aside to make it the focal point. She turned the envelope over, put it in the pocket of her dress, and stood up. “I think I will visit Belle in the infirmary. Perhaps I can sneak in some food to her. Would you like to come?”
“Are you going to torture me by not opening your brother’s letter here and now,” said Lottie, pouting. “You know I still hold out hope for us.”
“Do you?” asked Anita, shocked. Could Lottie still be so fond of Frederick after what he had said to her in Boston? She knew that Lottie became easily fixated on things, on people, but her affection for Frederick had to have its limits. “I was sure that Joseph Southworth had replaced my unremarkable little br
other in your eyes,” she said.
“Unremarkable! He is nothing of the sort. He is extremely dashing, your brother. But it is true, so is Joseph. I suppose I’m still choosing,” said Lottie with a dramatic wave of her hands.
“Ah,” said Anita, taking the letter out of her pocket to appease her friend. She picked up Lottie’s sterling silver letter opener from her desk and passed it through the fold of the envelope. She sat on the rocking chair from Uncle Fred and silently read the one-page letter.
Dear Anita,
I know everything. Lottie disclosed the details of Phil Day with me, from your dancing ten times with Porter Hamilton to your shameful behavior with him in your bedroom. End your relationship now and prove to me that you have, or I will tell mother and father about Porter. It is a terrible threat for me to have to make, but I know it is the only one that will prompt you to act as you should. I await your letter, but I won’t for very long.
Your brother Frederick
Anita looked up, unable to hide her emotion. So Lottie had revealed everything to Frederick. It must have been the day at the hotel when Anita had slipped off to the powder room, leaving the two of them alone. She wondered why he had not confronted her then, now remembering how angry he was. She guessed that part of him knew how much she needed to be with her family, to enjoy her time at home. Their mother must have told him of her tears on her first night back. But he was not holding back his words, or threats, now.
“Anita! What’s wrong?” Lottie demanded, jumping up and coming over to her. But Anita ripped the letter apart before her roommate could take it from her. “I hope it’s not about me,” Lottie said, and Anita shook her head firmly no.
“No, it’s about Porter,” she said, determined to say very little to her roommate. “Frederick doesn’t approve.”
Anita took the pieces of the letter and left the room. She rushed down the stairs to the empty senior parlor, dropped them in the roaring fire, and hurried out the door. She would visit Belle, she would shake off the horrible thoughts in her mind, and then she would go to the chapel and pray.
If she did not end her engagement with Porter now, her parents would force her to as soon as they learned the truth. They might even do it for her, go so far as to tell him the truth about her race. With her brother’s solution, she would lose Porter; with his threat, she would lose Porter, her secret, and perhaps Vassar as well.
When Anita returned to her room late that night, having skipped the lamb dinner, Lottie was still awake. Anita sat down on her friend’s bed, knowing no excuse was needed for her absence that evening.
“I didn’t tell your brother because I don’t love you,” Lottie said. “Or you and Porter together. I just wanted to feel close to Frederick, to share something with him. And I wanted you to have his blessing. I was sure he would give it if I could explain how happy you were.”
“He did not,” said Anita, thinking about her swift kick to Lottie’s shin, which had made no impression except a physical one. She closed her eyes and let the tears stream. And because she didn’t have another shoulder to cry on, she cried on Lottie’s.
The following day, before the sun came up, Anita sat in the reading room of the library, her oil lamp so close to her face that she felt her skin prickle with the heat. She pulled out her finest paper and wrote a letter woven of lies.
My dear Porter,
My heavy hands and heavier heart have to do the most awful thing I can imagine: put an end to our engagement. I misled you. I must marry someone else. I am devastated, and I am sorry.
Anita
CHAPTER 16
I am awash with guilt, Anita,” said Lottie as the two were ice-skating on the steely gray Vassar lake, the gelid day silent around them. It was the depth of winter in New York. No bird streaked across the sky, no pine tree stirred, the natural world lay frozen. But Lottie’s personality had no such season: happy, exhausted, penitent, she overflowed with life.
She took her hands out of her fur muff, throwing it onto the stiff grass beside the pond, the better to work up speed on the ice.
“I feel such regret!” she shouted, coasting back to the center. “I shouldn’t have told Frederick; I can see that now. I simply had no idea he would react so. Who wouldn’t want his sister to be engaged to a Chicago Hamilton? They are one of the most renowned families in the Middle West. And Porter is handsome, brilliant, and scandal-free. I know Frederick is tucked away in remote Ithaca, but even he must know that’s a rare combination these days at Harvard. All those badly behaved heirs from chip-chop arriviste families. Porter is one of the only ones without rumors of this or that bubbling around them. Frederick should have been thrilled.”
“Yes, Frederick should have been, but that is not his way. He thinks I handled myself very badly,” said Anita, her arms extended for balance. “In fact, he is sure I’ve embarrassed myself beyond repair.”
Lottie stopped, gouging the smooth ice with her sharp blades, and looked at her roommate, still a little unsteady on the ice after three years of skating. “I didn’t know your brother was such a traditionalist about women. How could I! Besides, it’s just not right. Even the most proper woman could not deny Porter Hamilton one little kiss.” She made a little moue of apology. “I was aware, by the application of your toe to my leg, that you did not want me to discuss Porter in front of you, but I was quite sure that if it were just Frederick and I, that I could make him understand. I thought I could be a help to you.”
Had Frederick told Lottie she had no hope of him after she had told him about Porter, or before? Anita would never know. And it was too late to try to deduce who had acted in retaliation; it was already a fait accompli. She looked down at the frozen lake and couldn’t help but think about Chicago—their lake, the elevated trains, the pulse of the city, the man no one wanted her to be with. She swallowed the pain that was feasting on her body and steadied by digging her toe in the ice, too.
“No, Frederick’s correct,” she replied. “I acted inappropriately. He is right to disapprove. But it was very hard to say no to Porter. I do . . . I did . . . have so much affection for him.”
“I should have had more foresight,” said Lottie, starting to loop around her friend to keep her close. Every Vassar student was required to complete three hours of exercise a week, but in winter, one of those hours could be spent on the frozen lake, and Anita and Lottie had made it a Friday tradition.
Anita licked her chapped lips, her skin raw from the January cold, and watched Lottie circling her like a child desperate to be loved again.
“You know me, Anita, I just can’t hold my tongue. It should really have been cut off years ago,” Lottie said, swaying winsomely from side to side on her blades. “I am truly sorry. I wasn’t using my head. Now, what can I do? Tell me, please, I beg of you. I miss my dear friend Anita Hemmings. She’s been replaced with an empty, dispirited impostor. I’ll do anything to have the old Anita back.”
“This is me we are speaking of?” said Anita, cutting away from Lottie when she circled behind her.
Anita had come to realize that ending her engagement with Porter was unavoidable if she was to save herself in the here and now, but she refused to think of the break as permanent. Somehow she would find a way to put things right again. And this time she wouldn’t make the mistake of announcing their relationship publicly. She had to send Porter another letter explaining everything, without revealing the real reasons behind her rash decision, and she had to accomplish it without Lottie intervening, an increasingly difficult task.
Lottie skated past Anita and planted herself in front of her, hands on hips, lips still in a pout. For the first time in the three days since she had written her heartbreaking letter to Porter, Anita gave in.
“Oh, Lottie,” she said, her anger trumped, at least for now, by the urge to confide in her friend. “I’m so grief-stricken about it all. I don’t know what to do. I know you weren’t telling Frederick about us maliciously, and if Frederick was of a more liberal bent
when it came to women and morality, it might have been different. You could have been helping me. But Frederick is as old-fashioned as they come, and if news about Porter and me had spread, you can imagine the scandal. It would have left me unmarriageable and caused a terrible scandal for the school. I could have been expelled.”
“But word of the romantic—yet unfortunate—incident will not spread, Anita,” said Lottie gliding over to retrieve her muff. She picked it up and sat on the white, frozen grass, pulling her wool skirt tight around her legs. “I’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone.”
“I believe you made that promise once before,” said Anita, sitting down next to her. She pulled her skirt tight, as Lottie had, her legs quite numb. There was a smell of snow in the air, and Anita hoped it would start falling while they were on the ice.
“But it was only to your brother!” Lottie protested. “I assumed you were planning to tell him about Porter before the winter holiday ended. Haven’t you told the rest of your family about the engagement? Your mother? If I were engaged to a Hamilton, my cries of excitement would have beaten me home.”
“Porter and I agreed to wait until after graduation,” said Anita. “I thought I had told you.”
“You did not,” said Lottie, accurately. “But you should have. I wish you had! Then we wouldn’t be in this awful position. I feel as if we’re pinned to a wall and we just can’t be ourselves because of this misunderstanding. The last few days have been miserable. I just can’t have you so cross with me. It’s our final year here, and there are too many wonderful things to do together. But you’ll see, Anita. We can make the world all right again.” Lottie stood up, skated to the middle of the pond, and started spinning so fast she grew dizzy.
“You’re going to fall!” said Anita, chasing out after her.
“And what if I do?” said Lottie, slowing down and putting her hand on Anita’s shoulder for balance. She threw her head back, and Anita did, too, watching as two bright red northern cardinals flew across the sky, a rare sight on campus. Lottie pointed at them, then said, “People sometimes do.”
