The Subway Girls

by Susie Orman Schnall

  Charlotte was silent, absorbing all of this information.

  “I know this isn’t ideal,” Sam continued. “But I want to marry you and I want to have a family with you, and if this is the way it’s meant to be for us, then let’s just go for it. I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, Charlotte. But please trust me. Trust that I’m the same man you’ve always loved. You know I will be there for you. And I will never, for the rest of our lives, ever do anything to hurt you.”

  They had arrived at Charlotte’s house. Charlotte realized she was exhausted.

  “Can I come in for a Coke?” Sam asked gently.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sam,” Charlotte said. “I’m just so tired of thinking and talking about all of this. Give me tonight. Let me sleep on it, and I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”

  Charlotte was glad it was dark in her house when she got home. She didn’t know if her father was still out and she didn’t care. Then she remembered the letters. She had been so caught up in Sam arriving at her house and whisking her off to the hospital and all its attendant drama, she had stuffed the letters into her purse and completely forgotten them.

  Ripping open the envelopes, one after the other, Charlotte read each letter carefully. And then she read the first one again just to be sure.

  CHAPTER 22

  OLIVIA

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 14, 2018

  When Olivia woke up, her bed was empty, but there was a note on the pillow next to hers from Ben. Good morning, beautiful…, it began. And then Ben had written that he had to make a few work calls from his room and reminded her what time they needed to meet in the lobby to leave for their flight.

  It was still early and Olivia felt energized, so she went for a run on the beach. She picked up an egg burrito and a latte on the way back and thought that she could get used to this LA lifestyle. She was supposed to meet Ben in the lobby in an hour, so she got ready and packed up.

  After they had left Rose the afternoon before, Olivia and Ben had returned to their own rooms in the hotel to rest and get ready for dinner. After dinner—a romantic and delicious affair at 1 Pico, the hotel restaurant—there was an awkward moment when they got off the elevator. Ben’s room was to the right and Olivia’s to the left, but true to his way, he walked Olivia to her hotel room door. They kissed at her door, and decided to take it inside when a room service cart almost ran them down. They shared a fun night complete with laughter, the Travel Channel, kissing, and other lovely bits until they both fell asleep in Olivia’s bed.

  Olivia had left her phone turned off since she’d arrived in LA. She’d been avoiding it, but, realizing she needed to face reality, she turned on her phone just before she headed down to the lobby. Immediately, the notifications started loading on her screen, alerting her to several urgent texts and voicemails from both Matt and Priya. And an email from Jenna.

  Olivia opened that one first, and her stomach dropped when she read that Jenna and Chris had gotten engaged and would be moving in together. That Jenna felt just awful, her words, for leaving Olivia in a bind, but that they were going to need the apartment back at the end of April.

  “Damn it,” Olivia said. That gave her less than six weeks to find a new place and move out. Without a job or any savings to her name, she couldn’t even imagine how she could make that happen.

  Just then her phone rang. It was Priya, so Olivia picked up.

  “Olivia. Finally. You can’t just drop off the face of the earth like that,” Priya said.

  “Why not? It feels really good,” Olivia said.

  “Seriously, Liv, listen. Something’s happened. Where are you?” Priya asked in a serious tone.

  “In LA. Why? What’s up?” Olivia knew Priya wasn’t one to be dramatic, so she was concerned.

  “LA? Jesus. Why are you in LA?”

  “Long story, but I’ll be back tonight. What’s going on?”

  “You’re not going to believe this. Sit down.”

  “Okay, sitting.”

  “Well, we all went home Monday night assuming you were gone and Thomas was going to present the ‘Star Car’ idea on Friday to the client. But when I got to work yesterday morning, Matt asked me to come into his office. Unusual. He said he had just gotten off the phone with Thomas, who was crying—”

  “Crying? Why?”

  “His wife left him. She found sexts on his phone and accused him of having an affair.”

  “Bastard.”

  “The reason he told Matt this was because he said he needed to go away to clear his mind, and he wanted Matt to hold his job and keep paying him while he was away. Like a medical leave thing. And then he admitted that he was having an affair with Pablo—”

  “Our Pablo? No way!”

  “Yes, and he admitted to stealing your idea and he was sorry. It’s like God found Thomas or Thomas found God yesterday and he was absolving all his sins. Matt had called Pablo in, before he called me in, and Pablo admitted it was all true and offered his resignation. On top of all this, your neighbor—”

  “Mrs. Glasser?”

  “Yep, Mrs. Glasser stormed in here yesterday on a rampage, demanding to speak to the young man in charge. Matt and Mrs. Glasser were behind closed doors for over an hour, and when they came out, they hugged like they had served in the same platoon. Apparently, Mrs. Glasser told Matt about your idea to pitch Miss Subways to the MTA and that she had located thirteen former Miss Subways winners. Matt was absolutely floored by the concept. Remember, Liv, we never presented Miss Subways to him. He loves it, and he wants you to present it to the client on Friday.”

  “That’s in two days, Priya!”

  “I know. It’s almost the middle of the day here. So I’ve already done a lot of the prep work. I wanted to see if you were on board before I emailed it to you. So, say you’re on board.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you know, Liv. This is your agency. You helped build it as much as Matt did. And Thomas is gone. It’s your moment to shine. To go into that MTA pitch and knock their subway socks off.”

  “I really thought I was done with that place, but you’re stirring my creative juices with that enticing spoon of yours. Mrs. Glasser did that?”

  “Yes. Do this for her, Liv.”

  Olivia hung up and called Matt.

  “I’m an asshole, Liv, and I’m sorry. I knew there was some aspect of truth in what you were saying about Thomas and Pablo stealing your idea, but I didn’t want to believe those guys could do something like that. I threw you under the bus, and I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Mostly because I was being hyperconscious of not showing you any special attention. Please come back. I love this Miss Subways concept. Mrs. Glasser, who is amazing, by the way, and so smart, pitched the whole concept to me. She’s even coming in today to work with Priya on the idea. I figured if you didn’t come back, we would still present it to the MTA on Friday. But it’s your pitch, Liv. Please do it. It’s a winning concept and you deserve the glory.”

  “I don’t want to work for you anymore, Matt,” Olivia said sadly. “If I’m being totally honest with myself, I still have feelings for you, even though I have every reason not to. It’s just all too complicated, and I think I’m better off keeping my distance from you personally and professionally.”

  “Oh, Liv. Don’t you realize I have feelings for you too? But the reason I don’t act on them, well, at least in a mature way, is because I don’t want you to be stuck with me. Please don’t have feelings for me, Liv. I don’t deserve them.”

  Olivia took a breath and tried to digest what Matt was saying. And it made sense. Not that it was possible to just fall out of love with someone, but the past few days had shown her that there were better guys than Matt out there.

  “Fine, I’ll do the pitch,” Olivia said, not entirely convinced that she wanted to, but something was pulling her toward it. Perhaps her dire need for a salary. And she felt she owed it to Mr
s. Glasser.

  “Thank you, Liv! Thank you. You’re going to be sensational. And if you win this for us, I’m going to give you a big raise and a bonus when we sign. Deal?”

  “Priya and me.”

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  Rose wasn’t at the ticketing counter when Olivia and Ben arrived at LAX. They waited fifteen minutes, and then Ben started to get concerned that she’d changed her mind. He called her house, and Flor said she had left forty-five minutes ago. Ben was just looking up the number for the car service when they saw Rose, decked out, approaching them.

  “You’re here,” Ben said, giving her a kiss.

  “Where else would I be?” Rose asked.

  Ben took her suitcase, and they got in the bag-check line.

  While they waited for the flight, Rose told them about her childhood in Brooklyn and how she was excited to go to New York because one of her sisters lived in Manhattan and she’d get to see her.

  Rose said she moved to Hollywood when she was twenty-one and had a screen test with Paramount; they signed her to a contract on the spot. She said she made a number of pictures, some had even had critical success, but she never found stardom.

  Olivia asked her about the Oscars.

  “Those were my husband’s, dear. He was a famous director. We lived quite a glamorous life in Hollywood. So many wonderful memories.”

  Rose told them story after story about the famous actors and actresses who were their friends, the parties they went to, the exotic places they traveled to.

  “Did you have children?” Olivia asked.

  “I never wanted to be a mother,” Rose said wistfully. “I thought that because I had a terrible mother, I would be a terrible mother.”

  “That’s how I feel,” Olivia said.

  “Don’t make the same decision I made. I actually think the opposite can be true, meaning that if you had a terrible mother, you are that much more conscious of being a wonderful mother yourself.”

  “Do you regret it?” Olivia asked.

  “I don’t regret making the decision to not be a mother when it was my decision to make. I think it was the right decision for me. But I regret now that I don’t have children. Most of my friends have died, and I’m very lonely. I keep myself busy, but I think it would be nice. I know for sure that I would have liked to have had a relationship with grandchildren.”

  * * *

  It was late when they arrived back in New York. Ben and Olivia helped Rose check in to her hotel, and then Ben dropped Olivia back at her apartment.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I’ve gotten Rose and my grandma settled,” Ben said.

  “I’m so disappointed I won’t be there to see it in person, but we only have one day before the pitch.”

  “Completely understand. I’m just so excited for my grandma to see that I’ve brought Rose Grant for a visit. I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

  CHAPTER 23

  CHARLOTTE

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 6, 1949

  Prompted by Saturday’s two unexpected letters and her conversation with Sam, the subsequent days became a time of reckoning for Charlotte. Time to contemplate her future. To lay all the moving parts onto a table, analyze them, and make decisions on their behalf.

  The letter from J. Walter Thompson had been entirely unexpected. A spot in the typing pool had opened up and would Charlotte be available to fill it beginning on Monday, July 18? Mr. Hertford wrote that Charlotte’s tenacity a few months back had impressed him, and she was the first girl who had come to mind.

  Charlotte was stunned. She would have the opportunity to work in advertising after all! And even if Professor Oldham was right and she came as close to a real-life advertisement as a teenage boy to a pinup girl, it didn’t matter. She was on her way to being a career woman, to supporting herself, to actualizing her dreams. As soon as nine o’clock rolled around on Monday morning, and without thinking too hard about it, Charlotte telephoned Mr. Hertford and accepted with gratitude and enthusiasm his very kind offer.

  The only problem was convincing her father. She had been working at the store full-time the last couple of weeks since her graduation, and she knew her father relied on her. He had to be out of the store quite a bit, and there were long stretches when she was the only one there. The store was still struggling financially, so Charlotte was left with the awful realization that if she started the JWT job on the eighteenth, less than two weeks away, she’d be abandoning her father and leaving him in a precarious position.

  She wondered if doing the right thing meant putting her father’s needs before her own or the other way around. She finally decided, after a few days of strenuous thinking, that though it seemed ridiculous, considering her father had been so awful to her, she couldn’t put the store in jeopardy. Doing so would hurt them all, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she were the reason he had to shut down.

  But Charlotte had dreaded having to phone Mr. Hertford at J. Walter Thompson again, so she’d been putting the atrocious act off. She could only imagine the god-awful impression he’d have of her, and she knew she could kiss any hope of future employment good-bye after that particular call.

  With all that on her mind, Charlotte called Sam and told him that she needed more time to think. He was upset and frustrated, as Charlotte knew he would be, but she didn’t care one bit. She was starting to get tired of putting others’ needs first. And it felt good not to.

  It was the second letter she received on Saturday, though, that allowed Charlotte to take her mind off everything that worried her. At least for a while. And that turned out to be all she needed.

  Charlotte had read all about past Miss Subways outings in the papers, so she was over the moon to receive the letter from Miss Fontaine inviting her to participate in one the coming Wednesday. Collier’s wanted to do a fluff piece on Miss Subways and photograph the girls at Jones Beach on Long Island. A lovely fuss.

  Charlotte couldn’t think of anything more exciting and even bought a new swimsuit for the occasion: a darling, all-white getup with a halter neckline and a matching white ribbon at the waist that she formed into a peppy bow. She told her father it was JoJo’s birthday, so she couldn’t work that day. Surprisingly, and more due to his lack of out-of-store appointments than an act of kindness toward Charlotte, he let her go.

  When Charlotte arrived at the beach that day, she was surprised to find she was the last one there. The girls had all gathered off to one side and were sitting in chairs, having their hair and makeup tended to. Miss Fontaine spotted Charlotte, led her over to the other girls, and made introductions.

  “You’re even prettier in real life, honey, if that’s even possible,” Dorothea Mate, Miss Subways June 1942, said, shaking her hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I feel like I already know you, since I stared at your face on the subway the whole way here,” said Enid Berkowitz, Miss Subways July 1946, laughing.

  One by one, each of the women introduced herself to Charlotte. There was Ruth Lippman, January 1945, and the Clawson triplets of May 1944, each one prettier than the next. Charlotte was most excited to meet Marie Theresa Thomas, March 1946. She had become a Powers Girl and had been on television and in a Coca-Cola ad. But she was as sweet as a kitten and Charlotte was charmed.

  Charlotte felt like she was staring at celebrities. Considering she was such a fan of Walter Winchell’s columns about Miss Subways in the Daily Mirror, she felt like she personally knew some of these women. They seemed so comfortable with each other, which brought on a wave of shyness in Charlotte, but then she remembered they were pros at all of this. It was she who was the neophyte.

  There were eight of them altogether, and they gathered in folding chairs to be primped while the photographer set up. Charlotte could barely contain her excitement as her hair and makeup were finished. She felt beautiful, even though there were no mirrors. There was something to be said about an inner glow.

  The photo
grapher’s assistant called them over and had the girls jump rope, make pyramids, do a tug-of-war, and otherwise frolic around. They certainly were a boisterous and lively group! Charlotte was having the time of her life. The other girls couldn’t have been nicer, and they included her as if they’d known her as long as they’d known each other. The photographer snapped away, and Charlotte barely noticed him because she was so engaged.

  Charlotte admired how confident the other girls seemed. She wondered if she appeared that way to them too.

  “I’ll have to get your telephone number from Miss Fontaine,” Dorothea said to Charlotte as they stood next to each other, having a drink of water after the egg-rolling race. “We have a Miss Subways club, and I’d love for you to be part of it.”

  “I’d love that,” Charlotte said. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t think twice. We usually meet in Manhattan. Where do you live?”

  “I’m in Brooklyn now with my parents, but I’m moving to Manhattan soon.”

  “That’s right. Your poster said you have a special guy. Are you two getting married?”

  “Not exactly,” Charlotte said, looking away.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “That’s okay. We just had a bit of a falling-out.” And then, before she knew what she was saying, she blurted out, “He knocked up another girl, and now he’s adopting the baby and wants me to be the mother.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Dorothea said. “That’s one for the ages.”

  “Tell me about it. My goodness, I barely know you. I can’t believe I just told you that.”

  The other girls were milling about, drinking water. The photographer had to change his film so he had given the girls a break.