Upset and angry, she walked down the street thinking about Stanford White and praying that one day he would get his just deserts.
* * *
It was Wednesday, February 10, and Mary had an urgent need to speak with her best friend, Sarah.
“You’re what?” exclaimed Sarah as she was about to sit down on the couch in her den and remained standing instead.
“You heard me,” said Mary. “I’m pregnant.”
Sarah was tongue-tied. “But how…what…who?”
“All good questions. Harper and I made love the night before he was murdered.”
“So the baby’s his. That’s wonderful! I’m pregnant, too, Mary. Our babies can grow up together and be best friends like us!”
“That would be wonderful, but let’s not charge ahead of ourselves. I honestly don’t know who the father is.”
The seriousness of the situation hit Sarah. “Oh, Mary—”
“Yes, Stanford White could be the father.”
“I…I…don’t know what to say. What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea, but you’re the only one I can tell. My mother’s out of the question, and if I told Sean, well, he might do something crazy and kill the bastard.”
“Which wouldn’t be so bad except that Sean would go to prison.”
“There’s a chance this child could be Harper’s and I would adore having another part of him around. If it’s not…” Mary’s voice trailed off.
“Even if you knew for sure it wasn’t Harper’s, which is virtually impossible, you’re not seriously considering…ending your pregnancy, are you? Forget about it being illegal. Most of those abortionists are butchers.”
“If I had a son who wound up having the same obnoxious smirk as Stanford White, it would torture me for the rest of my life. But the idea of seeking out an abortionist in some dark alley is completely abhorrent to me.” On the verge of tears, Mary paused, trying to gather herself, but only found despair. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do.”
Sarah took Mary in her arms, trying to soothe her. “Whichever way it is, I’ll be there. I’ll always be there.”
Lifelong friends, they held each other, and Mary temporarily found comfort in Sarah’s arms.
“Mary, why don’t you and Josie stay here tonight? We have plenty of room for the two of you.”
“I’d love to but I’m going to the Bradley-Martin Ball tonight.”
“The Bradley-Martin Ball? That’s the social event of the year. Correction: decade.”
“Theodore Roosevelt invited me. His wife hates those types of affairs and he needs to put in a brief appearance.”
“It’s a costume ball. What are you going to wear?”
* * *
The Bradley-Martin Ball was the brainchild of Cornelia Bradley-Martin, the wife of Bradley Martin. Her intent was to stir the local economy, which hadn’t yet fully recovered from the Panic of 1893. In order to do so, she announced the ball just a few weeks before it was to take place, so the invitees would not have time to order their costumes from Paris and would have to use local dressmakers, thus helping the economy of New York. It was the type of insane, out-of-touch logic rich people used to justify spending outrageous amounts of money on flighty events when many people were starving, and Mary was all too well aware of it.
The event was held at the Waldorf Hotel. Most of those present paraded around as European royalty of the past or present, such as Marie Antoinette; King Henry IV; Mary, Queen of Scots…the list went on. Sex had no delineation. Quite a few men dressed as female royalty. Some costumes had many thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds and pearls embroidered into them. The costumes were so valuable that Cornelia Bradley-Martin made sure there were dressing rooms available along with makeup personnel and dressers, so that those who were squeamish about the possibility of being robbed on the way to the ball could dress there.
Mary had read that Stanford White and James Breese were invited, and she had decided that her mission was to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Therefore, she went as Susie Johnson. She dressed as young as she could, wore a blond wig, and carried a large lollipop. Just in case anyone missed who she was, Mary hung a sign on herself that said “Pie Girl.”
Theodore Roosevelt was amused by Mary’s outfit. “Bully for you, Mary. Never let those criminals rest easy.”
Roosevelt had come as a big-game hunter, which he was. “I couldn’t force myself to wear one of those frilly, flowery costumes. It’s not me, and it never will be.”
A fortune had been spent on this event, including making the Waldorf look as much as possible like the palace at Versailles. Among many things it included tapestries, specific royal furniture, costumes for the waitstaff, and special lighting to massage the egos of the guests so that their costumes could be shown to their best advantage.
One of the first guests they encountered was James Breese, who was dressed as the Duke of Guise in an embroidered corded silk outfit covered in pearls and silk lace.
“My, my,” said Mary. “You cut quite a dashing figure. Does royalty always look so feminine?”
Breese was ready to trade barbs. “Some do, some don’t. Maybe one day you’ll look feminine, too.”
“I should have given myself a paler complexion. I’ve come as Susie Johnson. Thanks to your efforts, she’s dead.”
Breese was taken aback. “Dead?”
“Yes. Killed herself, you know. Couldn’t live with the shame of what you did to her. Good going, Jimmy. Shall we blurt out a rah-rah cheer for you, Stannie, and Fuller?”
Breese was quiet and Mary was beginning to think he felt some remorse before his rationalization came flying out: “The girl was unbalanced. We did nothing wrong.” He then turned his attention to Roosevelt. “Sorry we’re losing you, Mr. Roosevelt. Well, not really.” He spotted Bradley Martin dressed as Louis XV and left to greet him. “Bradley, don’t you look smashing.”
“What did he mean by that, Mr. Roosevelt?”
“It was one of the reasons I invited you, Mary. I wanted to tell you in person.”
“Did you get fired?”
“Technically, no, but in essence, yes. They’ve succeeded in eliminating my position as president of the board of police commissioners and want me to be part of the group.”
“Which means you’ll have no power and could easily be outvoted in anything you want to accomplish.”
“Exactly. I don’t enjoy being neutered and have decided to leave for a post in Washington, DC, assistant to the secretary of the navy. It will give me time to ponder my future.”
“I’m devastated. We really need you here.”
“I prefer to think there is symmetry in this world. Corrupt human beings will get punished. It might not be prison, but they will get their comeuppance.”
“I hope you’re right, sir.”
“Mary, I’m only here because there are wealthy donors present whose money I might need someday. Now that I’ve put in my appearance, would it be okay if we left?”
“I have no desire to be around these people any longer than I have to.”
“Excellent. Shall we?” He put out his arm, Mary took it, and they headed for the exit, acknowledging the many people they passed with a nod, a smile, and an occasional hello.
As they approached the entrance to the ballroom, Mary saw Stanford White, who was wearing a court costume made of black velvet and white satin. She took a glass of vintage French red wine off the tray of a passing waiter.
“Stannie, so good to see you.” When he turned toward her, she splashed the red wine in his face, some of it dripping down and staining the white satin. The combination of White’s surprise followed by his anger and distress over his costume’s being ruined was priceless. Mary put the empty glass down on another passing waiter’s tray. It all went so seamlessly well t
hat it looked like it had been planned, which it hadn’t.
At the door, Mary said to Roosevelt, “I feel better. Not much, but it will do for the evening.”
They both laughed heartily as they walked toward their carriage.
34
It was Saturday, February 13, 1897, three days after the Bradley-Martin Ball and also one day before Valentine’s Day. Sean and his fiancée, Linda, would have preferred to have Mary, Josie, and Elizabeth over to the Doyle household on Valentine’s Day, but Elizabeth was busy. So they’d planned a big lunch on Saturday where they would all finally meet. No matter when it was scheduled, Sean and Mary were both dreading it, not knowing what kind of scene their mother would create.
The Doyle house was just a few blocks from Lazlo’s Books, a nice middle-class home and a bit more upscale than the Handley home. Linda’s father, Tommy Doyle, was a plumber, and as more and more indoor plumbing was being installed, his business was growing nicely. In fact, the Doyles were talking about moving to a bigger house in a nicer neighborhood. But presently they were still living in the house in which Linda had grown up. Linda had jet-black hair and green eyes that stood out. Mary could see why Sean was so attracted to her. Her parents looked upon her as a godsend. Linda’s mother, Martha Doyle, had had three miscarriages before she gave birth to her daughter, their only child. Given these circumstances, they were very protective and unusually curious about the people who were going to be Linda’s new family members. This is what concerned Sean. He knew his mother was a loose cannon and it wouldn’t be hard to make Linda’s parents nervous about the Handleys.
Mary and Josie arrived before Elizabeth, which made it a promising start for this gathering. They all oohed and aahed over Josie. Mary tried to get her to walk for them, but Josie wasn’t cooperating. Mary knew how to talk to the Doyles, and she and Linda got along very well. Linda was also an avid reader, and they had a lot to discuss.
Elizabeth was now officially late. Sean and Mary stared at each other, knowing how unusual that was for their mother, especially when it meant meeting one of her children’s potential mates. Mary tried to keep the Doyles occupied with Josie as Sean contemplated calling Elizabeth’s butcher shops. That’s when there was a knock at the door. Laughter could be heard as Sean opened it.
Much to his surprise, the laughter was coming from Elizabeth and a man who looked like he was in his early fifties. He was a relatively handsome man who seemed in good shape and had a full head of black hair that was graying at the temples. Sean was totally nonplussed.
Elizabeth patted Sean gently on the cheek. “Hello, Sean dear.”
Sean couldn’t help thinking, “Sean dear”? Who is this woman? Is this really my mother?
“Sean,” said Elizabeth, “I’d like you to meet Arthur Broderick.”
Arthur quickly pumped Sean’s hand. “Ah, the fabulous policeman. Glad to meet you, Sean. Your mother gushes about you all the time.”
Sean remained confused. What did “all the time” mean? How long had this Arthur fellow known his mother, and again, was this really his mother?
He managed to get out a few words. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Call me Artie,” the man replied. “All my friends do.”
Sean nodded and said tentatively, “Artie.”
“That’s it. I feel like we’re old friends already.”
Elizabeth and Artie ventured farther into the house to where the others were, with Sean tailing them. He did the introductions. Elizabeth was gushing and full of compliments for everyone, with the words “pretty,” “smart,” “handsome,” and “beautiful home” bandied about as if it were second nature to her.
Mary was dumbstruck. Now it was What happened to our mother? She and Sean were wondering who this Artie person was and why he was there.
When they got to Mary, Artie jumped in again. “And this must be your brilliant and beautiful daughter, Mary, who you never stop bragging about.”
Mary was similarly perplexed as bizarre thoughts shot through her mind. Have I inadvertently entered a strange world where everything is the opposite?
“Mary darling,” said Elizabeth in her new sugary voice. “Would it be okay if Artie holds Josie?”
“Of course, Mother.”
“Don’t be so formal. Call me Mom.”
That clinched it. Although Mary had never believed in such a thing before, their mother was definitive proof aliens from outer space existed and could take over a human’s body.
Josie gurgled and laughed in Artie’s arms. It made Mary like Artie more. Josie was a good judge of character. After all, she did cry whenever she got close to Elizabeth. But who was Artie?
“Mother,” Mary said, and then at her look said, “Mom. How do you happen to know Artie?”
“Darling, Artie is the meat man I’ve been trying to get you and Sean to meet, a consummate artist with the knife.”
Artie blushed. “Artist. Ah, Lizzie.”
Mary had enough trouble processing her mother’s calling her darling, but now “Lizzie”? Elizabeth wasn’t and had never been a Lizzie. And Elizabeth’s overtures to Mary and Sean had not really been about learning the business but to meet Artie? Mary’s head was swimming.
“Anyhow, I’m glad the three of you have finally met,” said Elizabeth, and then she gestured to the others. “I’m sure Artie is just as thrilled to meet you as I am to meet the Doyles.”
“I most definitely am,” said Artie. “One of my greatest pleasures.”
In a way, Sean was relieved. Whatever it was that had caused his mother to behave in this manner, no matter how bizarre it was, it actually looked like it might work in his favor. This meal was going to be a lot easier than he’d thought it would.
And it was.
It turned out to be what Sean, in his wildest dreams, could never have imagined. Elizabeth was charming, constantly complimenting Martha Doyle on her cooking, laughing at Tommy Doyle’s jokes whether they were funny or not, and turning to Sean periodically to comment on how Linda was “smart as a whip and beautiful, too.” Finally, as they were finishing the main course, Elizabeth landed the coup de grâce.
“I know we have just met,” she said to the Doyles, “and I must say that you, Linda, are everything I could possibly wish for in a wife for Sean and more.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Handley. I love Sean very much, and I have really enjoyed making your acquaintance.”
“I’m glad, because I’m about to propose something that you might deem radical.” Elizabeth smiled at Artie and then turned to the rest, all of whom were wondering what this proposal was. “Would it be agreeable to all of you if we made this a double wedding?”
The Doyles knew what she meant, but Mary and Sean both had a hard time processing it. Mary spoke first. “Double wedding. Who would be the other couple?”
“Why, Artie and me, silly. Who else would it be?”
* * *
Mary decided to walk home from the Doyles’ house. It was midafternoon, sunny, and chilly, but Josie was covered with a warm blanket and Mary needed to clear her head after a very surprising meal. She and Sean had relatively quickly approved of Elizabeth’s double-wedding suggestion after they got over the shock of it. They had finally done the math and realized that it had been long enough since their father had passed away and their mother was entitled to go on with her life. Mary had acquiesced slower than the others, but in the end she agreed it was a good idea.
The shock Mary and Sean experienced had less to do with the sudden appearance of their mother’s beau than her sweet, positive behavior. It did answer a question that had been nagging Mary about Elizabeth’s understanding and noncombative behavior toward her as of late. Her mother was in love. Thinking about it on her stroll, Mary wished it would last, mostly for her and Sean’s sake but also for her mother’s. She deserved to have love in her life.
When Mary got to Lazlo’s Books, she stopped to admire the new sign that Lazlo had already emblazoned on the front window: OFFICE OF HANDLEY/CAMPBELL—CONSULTING DETECTIVES. Mary had considered changing it to “Lloyd/Campbell” in honor of Harper, but she already had a reputation and she thought it might confuse prospective clients.
She peeked in the window. Lazlo and Gerta were at the cash register, chatting and laughing, and an energized Chief Campbell was greeting a new client. Content with what she had seen, she continued on her way.
When she and Josie got to their apartment, she changed Josie’s diaper, then set her down on the floor to crawl as much as she wanted while Mary plopped down on the couch, where her thoughts soon overwhelmed her. Everyone she really cared about seemed to be doing very well. Her mother, Sean, and Lazlo were in love. Chief Campbell, Walter, and Sarah were happy with the new directions in their lives.
Eventually, her mind landed on herself and her smile faded instantly. All in the last few months, her husband had been murdered, she had been raped, and she might be pregnant with the rapist’s baby. Depressing thoughts blanketed her. Josie would never know her father. She and Harper would miss out on their whole future and many wonderful moments together. And her pregnancy presented a torturous dilemma. Having no idea what to do, she became distraught and a deep melancholy set in. How could her life have gone so wrong when others’ had gone so right? What did she do? Even though Mary wasn’t very religious, at a time like this God entered into her thoughts as she wondered if he was punishing her for something. She sank deeper and deeper into an abyss of misery from which she could see no escape.
Mary’s brooding was interrupted by a scuffling sound and a light babble. She looked up to see Josie standing and smiling as if she was waiting for Mary to notice. When Mary set eyes on her, Josie started walking toward her (stumbling really), uttering over and over again, “Ma-ma, Ma-ma.”
Near Prospect Park Page 22
