The Golden Sparrow

by Samantha Latshaw

  “We’ve decided on a date,” Florence said and I nodded once. That must have been the envelope, I thought. She gestured to where I had slipped the envelope. “Obviously you’re invited.”

  “And what was the other thing you needed to tell me?” I asked, somewhat impatiently. My stomach was beginning to grumble and I worried they could hear it.

  Rather than answering me, Florence turned to Frankie, a smile on her face.

  “I don’t think we were introduced,” she said, sticking out her hand to him. “I’m Florence Bergman. Hazel and I went to school together.” She then touched Jacob lightly on the arm. “And this is my fiance, Jacob Hunt.”

  Jacob simply nodded curtly at Frankie, who seemed to be growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

  “I’m Frankie Corcoran,” he said, clearing his throat and taking Florence’s hand.

  “And where did you two meet?” Florence asked with feigned innocence.

  “A club,” I answered flatly. “What was the other thing, Florence?”

  “Oh, right.” She beamed. “I’ll be going to Europe next month. Mama wants to take me on a tour before the wedding and we won’t be back until August.”

  “I see.” I shifted slightly on my feet, as if to shield Frankie from their judging eyes. “Well, I hope you have a pleasant trip. Do tell me all about it when you return.”

  “I certainly will.” She waved at Frankie and then slipped her hand into Jacob’s. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Corcoran. Goodbye, Hazel. Hopefully we can meet before I leave.”

  “Perhaps,” I said dubiously.

  She surprised me by hugging me briefly then, with one final nod at Frankie, she and Jacob continued on their way. I could feel the wedding invitation in my pocket grow heavy and, as I looked up at Frankie, saw a dark cloud pass over his face.

  “Come on,” I said with forced brightness. “I’m starving.”

  But to my surprise, Frankie shook his head, carefully extricating himself from my grasp.

  “I’d better get home,” he said abruptly. “My brothers’ and I are playing at the Golden Sparrow tonight. We’ll need to practice a bit before we go on.”

  “Alright,” I said, feeling more than a little put-out at his sudden coldness, and we turned back towards home. “Well, I might see you then. It’s up to Mimi, of course, if she wants to go. I’d never go by myself. I’d be too scared.”

  I was rambling, I knew it, but Frankie’s sudden sullenness had me scrambling to fill the silence between us.

  At the front door, I kissed Frankie briefly, which seemed to momentarily distract him. But then his eyes slid up the front of my house and his expression darkened once again.

  Ducking his head, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, Frankie bade me goodbye and started off down the street without so much as a backwards glance.

  Something in the way he had looked at my house had me thinking that he was beginning to wish he hadn’t started anything with me. Was he embarrassed that he was poor? Had it been something Florence had said or done? She certainly hadn’t disguised her disdain for him, but she hadn’t said anything particularly nasty either.

  I couldn’t remember Florence ever being so haughty before. I attributed her new-found dislike for anyone in a social class beneath hers to Jacob Hunt, a man who was from one of the richest families on the entire east coast. His family owned dozens of properties, factories, and had even converted one of their older homes into a boy’s school in Massachusetts that his uncle, Clyde Hunt, was headmaster of.

  With a small sigh, I let myself into the house, but no sooner had I taken off my coat than my mother descended upon me, ordering me into the parlor.

  As I sat in my chair, watching as she paced the room, her expression more serious than I had seen it in years, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was about to tell me that she was about to be married.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded and the memory of her threat of disowning me suddenly had me paralyzed in my chair.

  “I-I went to the park,” I answered truthfully though my mouth was dry.

  “With whom?” Mama pressed, standing with her fists on her hips as she glared down at me.

  “A boy I met a couple of weeks ago,” I said timidly, shrinking slightly down into my chair. Would she disown me for that? I found myself worrying.

  Surprise crossed her features and she relaxed a little. Whatever it was she had expected me to say, it wasn’t that.

  “And might I know this boy’s name?” she inquired.

  “Frankie.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  I swallowed convulsively, anxious as I took a moment to construct an answer that would just barely elude to my illicit behavior.

  “Through Mimi,” I said carefully.

  Mama seemed to understand my meaning and nodded slowly. “I see,” she said then glanced at the piano that I hadn’t touched in days then back to me. “Why haven’t you been practicing?”

  My not playing hadn’t gone as unnoticed as I had thought it had. Or maybe Danielle had told her I hadn’t been playing.

  Twisting my hands in my lap, I turned my attention to a photograph of my father in his uniform. The picture had been taken only days before he had left for Europe in 1917. His face was carefree and laughing. Even the short time he had spent at war had changed him so much that when he returned, there were new lines on his face and his eyes seemed to have lost their luster.

  “Hazel,” Mama prompted when I didn’t immediately respond.

  Finally, I tore my gaze away from my mother’s face and looked back to her.

  “You begged me for months to get you that audition at Carnegie Hall,” she said angrily, moving to stand by her chair next to mine. She hesitated then plopped down in the plush seat. “I got it for you and now you don’t play?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You were excelling, Hazel. You impressed Mr. Carrow. But—what? Now you’d rather spend your time partying? Is that it?”

  “That isn’t it,” I said in a small voice, but I doubted her heard me.

  She threw her hands up in exasperation then dropped them onto the armrests as I sat in fear that she would toss me out that very minute.

  “Would you care to explain what it is, then?”

  I played with the ribbon tied across the front of my frock, aware of my trembling hands and rapid heartbeat. Perhaps I wouldn’t get thrown out today, but I had hoped that I would have a little longer to prepare an excuse for my mother about my sudden lack of interest in music. But it appeared that I was fresh out of time. Mama was waiting for an answer.

  “Hazel,” Mama said again, angry.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, braced myself for the onslaught of her wrath once I explained myself, and then opened my eyes and told her.

  I told her how I couldn’t bare to sit before the keys and play, how I had begun to even hate the sight of the piano. I told her how it had begun to feel like a chore that needed to be done rather than bringing me solace as it had always done.

  When I had finished talking, Mama crossed her arms over her chest and chewed the inside of her cheek as she appraised me with critical eyes.

  Finally, with a sigh, she said, “Well, you won’t hear any arguments from me. Playing in concert halls is not fitting for a lady. But I hope you know I never wanted you to give it up.”

  I nodded, dropping my eyes to my hands, which were still twisting in my lap. I’m not sure I believe that. “I know, Mama. It just... happened.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and moved to stand before me. Then she surprised me by crouching down and taking my hands in hers, her dark eyes—so much like my own—searching mine.

  “Give yourself time to think about it,” she advised me, her voice gentle. “I mean for you to really, truly think about it. If, by the end of this month, you still want to give up performing, then we will go to Mr. Carrow together and tell him you’ve resigned.”

  I nodded. “Alright.”

&n
bsp; I was more than a little taken aback at how easily she had handled my wanting to give up the piano. I had expected more resistance and a great deal of shouting, even if she didn’t like it in the first place. But she didn’t argue with me, she didn’t fight it. She just let me decide for myself.

  Mama reached up and touched a hand to my cheek and I automatically leaned into the touch. It was as if I was a child again and she was there to comfort me when I was feeling well.

  “I’ve, uh, actually got something I need to tell you,” she said when she had retracted her hand and stood straight again. My cheek felt cold in her hands absence. “But perhaps it should wait.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “No, tell me. What is it?”

  Mama sighed and returned to her chair, looking anxious.

  “These last few weeks—months, really—I have been spending a great deal of time with someone,” she began, looking more nervous than I had ever seen her.

  Would I be alright with what she was going to tell me, I found myself wondering. Will I care?

  “Have you?” I asked, thinking of what Danielle had told me.

  She grimaced slightly but then her expression went serious and my stomach twisted into knots. I did care. I cared a great deal. And I didn’t want to hear what she was going to tell me. I didn’t want to know that she had fallen in love with someone else.

  Mama seemed to be struggling with words and after several long minutes of her agonizing over whatever she was trying to say and me sitting their somewhat impatiently for her to say it, she let out a vehement huff of breath and, in a rush, said, “I’ve been seeing Anthony Hayes, Hazel, and he’s asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

  Chapter 8

  I slammed the empty glass down on the table, harder than I had intended, and glared around the room. The stem of the cocktail glass was between my fingers and I felt as though it wouldn’t take much for me to snap it in half. The music was loud, which I thought was perfect—it helped me drown out my bitter thoughts towards my mother.

  Mimi eyed me curiously and lowered her own glass, much slower and gentler than I had, and sat back in her seat. She had been watching me silently all night, not once questioning my dour mood. Mimi knew me well enough to know something was wrong and she knew better than to ask me. She was waiting for me to tell her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even comprehend it myself, so how could I possibly tell her?

  My mother had been a widow for nearly a decade. There was no reason at all why she shouldn’t remarry. Except for the fact, of course, that my father was the only man in the world with whom I could imagine my mother being with. No one else could compare to my father.

  I had only met Anthony Hayes a handful of times, mostly at dinner parties where there was a whole table and many people between us. We would exchange brief words and move on to the next person. The only thing I knew about him was that his father had owned a great deal of property in the countryside and a prosperous canning factory in New Jersey, all of which he had inherited when his father died.

  “Hazel?” Mimi ventured to ask several minutes later. I suspected she had gotten tired of watching me fume in silence. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  I didn’t want to tell her. I couldn’t. Couldn’t I just keep it all a secret a little longer?

  Instead of answering, I looked at her and countered her question with, “Where’s Leah?”

  I hadn’t heard a single word mentioned about Leah in ages, not since I had overheard my mother and Danielle discussing her as if she had done something scandalous. And maybe she had. Seeing as Mimi hardly spoke of her, I wouldn’t know, which didn’t match up to the friendship Mimi and I had. We never had secrets, but ever since I found out about Mr. Basso, I felt that there was a gap between us that was growing wider by the day, filling with secrets she was keeping from me.

  Mimi lifted her chin slightly, her expression defensive, and she pinched her lips together as we stared one another down.

  So there was a secret there, I thought, my eyes sliding over to the crowded bar. I was only keeping my mother’s engagement to myself. Who knew what all Mimi was keeping from me.

  To my surprise, however, Mimi relented with a sigh and said, “She is out in the country, just like I said. I didn’t lie.”

  “But why?” I wondered, tilting my head to the side. It wasn’t like me to pry, but I needed a distraction. “And why do you spend so much time with the owner of the club? Are you ever going to tell me that?”

  “It isn’t any of your business,” Mimi snapped. “What I do with Walt isn’t any concern of yours, and neither is Leah’s whereabouts. She’s in the country, in a hospital, if you must know.”

  Sensing that she wasn’t telling the truth, I asked, “Is she in a tuberculosis ward? Or is it something more?”

  Mimi knew I wasn’t going to let the subject drop.Why not just tell me?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mimi said.

  “Sure it does,” I replied and Mimi’s dark eyes narrowed. “She’s your family. You shouldn’t have to be carrying around any heavy burdens—like what she’s actually done—to yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mimi’s words were sharp and I sensed I was close to the truth.

  “So what was it?” I trailed a fingertip around the rim of the cocktail glass. “It must have been something really awful if your mother disowned her.”

  Mimi’s face flushed with fury.

  “Who told you?”

  It was wrong of me, prying her secrets from her like I was knife jammed under the lid of a rusted shut box, but she never told me anything anymore. Ever since she had met Mr. Basso, my Mimi had been replaced with a mere shadow of the girl I had once known.

  I didn’t answer. I lifted my glass to my lips instead and took a sip, waiting.

  Finally, Mimi sighed in resignation and dropped her gaze to the table.

  “She really is out in the country.” She shifted in her seat but didn’t look up. “I wasn’t lying.”

  “Why is she out there?” I pressed.

  She took a deep, steadying breath. “A couple of months ago,” Mimi began, “Leah gave birth. A little boy. But before that, my mother threw her out after the doctor confirmed it. I didn’t have much, but what I had I gave to Leah to help keep her until she could find a job.”

  “But she didn’t find a job, did she?” I asked and Mimi finally met my eyes.

  I remembered Leah being kind to me, but I also knew Leah to be spoiled and whiny. Whatever mess she had gotten herself into, she would have had no one to blame but herself. And she would have expected her mother to keep her, but when she didn’t, she turned to Mimi, the one who would undoubtedly be doted on by their mother. And Leah had been right.

  Mimi shook her head. “No, she refuses to.” She drank deeply from her cocktail, nearly draining it, then set it back down. “And the money I had—my mother had given me Leah’s inheritance as well as my own—went to her. But Leah’s got an expensive lifestyle and it ran out just after Georgie was born. As it happens, that was around the same time Leo brought me to the Golden Sparrow, where I met Walt.

  “It took a few weeks, but he decided he wanted me,” she went on. A dark shadow passed over her face and the one hand resting next to her drink clenched briefly into a tight fist where I could see the veins straining against the thin skin of her hand, before she relaxed it once more. “I... did things for him and he rewarded me with jewelry. I’ve pawned what I can, just enough that he doesn’t notice what I’m doing. I’ll wear some first before I do it. It’s expensive stuff, what he gives me, so it gets a good price. But I made Leah downsize her living. She’s in some small cottage outside Hartsdale and Georgie is getting so big.”

  “And Mr. Basso really hasn’t noticed the jewelry missing?” I wondered.

  Mimi shrugged. “Not as far as I can tell,” she told me, which didn’t really reassure me.

  “But he’s so dangerous, Mimi,” I said quietly, my tone pleading, though I wasn’t
quite sure what I was pleading for. Her to leave him, I supposed. But I knew now that she wouldn’t, not with Leah and her bastard son depending on her.

  “I know.” Mimi glanced towards the stage. “I know, but I need him. Without Walt, I wouldn’t be able to keep Leah and Georgie.” She turned back to me then, her dark eyes desperate. “He’s my nephew, Hazel. If it was only Leah, I wouldn’t care too much, but Georgie’s innocent. I can’t let him starve.”

  I reached across the table for her hand and held it tightly in my own.

  “Of course you can’t.”

  “But even though Walt’s bad news, he’s still keeping them alive, even if he doesn’t know it,” Mimi said softly, slowly removing her hand from mine. “I can’t just leave him.”

  “Make Leah get a job,” I said irritably. “If she gets a job, she can keep herself and her son. She wouldn’t need you and you could leave Mr. Basso.”

  But Mimi was shaking her head sadly.

  “It’s not that simple,” she said.

  “Sure it is.” But even as I said it, I knew she was right.

  Basso was one of the most dangerous, most powerful men in New York. He wouldn’t let Mimi go without a fight.

  At that thought, my blood ran cold and I shivered. He would kill her before he let her go.

  And as we walked home an hour later, Mimi brought up Leah again and, though she sounded hesitant, she said, “She’s got enough money right now to last her for a few months. She’ll be fine for a little while.”

  Her voice was strangely solemn and a horrible sense of foreboding passed over me.

  I searched her face, hoping in vain for some sort of explanation that she hadn’t spoken aloud, but found nothing.

  “But she could get a job,” I said again and Mimi laughed, looping her arm through mine as we continued down the sidewalk, “and you’d be able to leave Mr. Basso.”

  “Baby steps,” she said airily.

  We were nearly back to my house when she slowed our pace.

  Confused, I opened my mouth to ask if anything was the matter when she said, “Something was bothering you earlier. What was it?”