Page 6 of Landing Love

“No.” The thought of the Princess of New York fleeing a party and climbing into one of their rundown old Jennies defied belief.

“Oh yes. Of course, I escorted her back to her party where she belonged. What choice did I have?”

“None at all.” Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I woke up in the middle of the night to see a gorgeous blonde straddling my control stick with her satin skirts hiked to her creamy thighs. Can you imagine?”

“I really oughtn’t.” But he did. How could he not? That mental image should have lit him up like a firework. Instead, he wished Hank hadn’t said it. What he really wanted to know about was Hank’s heart, and it made him uncomfortable to talk about Miss Belmont like she was any other of Hank’s conquests. There was clearly something more between them.

“And then she showed up the next morning with her father, cool as a cucumber. I’ve been lost ever since. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.” Hank emptied his glass.

It was getting toward time to get his friend home before he drank himself into a stupor. Or confessed anything more that Bill shouldn’t hear.

“Hello, gentlemen.” A curvy brunette sauntered up to the counter for a drink. “What are you boys doing this evening?” There was a blonde in tow who looked ill at ease with her friend’s flirtation. If Hank wasn’t in such a state, Bill might have had a go at charming the blonde. But he knew he’d only end up changing her lightbulbs. He should make his escape while he could.

“Hmm?” said Hank, narrowing and widening his eyes as if trying to bring the ladies into focus.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but my friend here is completely blotto, ossified…utterly spifflicated. I need to get him home.” Fortunately, Hank was too far gone to object.

The brunette shrugged. “Another time then.” She smiled, and the two women walked away to a table with their drinks.

“Come on, Hank. Let’s get you home, ya big lug. We both have to fly tomorrow.”

Hank threw down a whole dollar to cover their drinks, even though they’d only spent maybe thirty cents between them. Bill tucked the dollar back in Hank’s billfold and put down four dimes. Then he hefted Hank from the chair, not an easy feat, given his size.

Hank lurched up and wobbled. Bill put an arm around him. “That’s it. You remember walking, right, you big baboon?”

“Hmph,” was all the answer he got as they made their way to Hank’s place a few blocks away.

After seeing Hank safely to his door, Bill sauntered back to his tiny apartment above a barbershop on Front Street, just two blocks away from his parents’ house. He had the money to buy a house like Hank had, but was saving everything he could for that Lawson C-1. He was a bachelor and didn’t need much. If he kept putting his pennies away, someday he might be able to make his dream a reality.

The walk back was pleasant in the balmy summer evening. He looked up at the night sky and wondered where his love might be that very moment. She was out there, he was sure. Or mostly sure. It was only a matter of time before they met. He had to be patient. Love would come in its own time. He just had to be ready and pray she would see past his humor to his heart.

3

As Ann dressed for her first evening out since Roger’s death, she kept replaying her interview with Rory Belmont. The heiress hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. Her warmth and consideration put Ann at ease immediately. Perhaps too much at ease. It embarrassed her that she’d broken down into tears in front of her benefactor as she talked about losing Roger, but Miss Belmont had been so sympathetic. She didn’t balk at all and assured her that the PBA would provide the money she needed for the roof. The woman was saving her and Junior’s future, and all Ann could do was blubber like a baby.

Honestly, she’d expected condescension, not acceptance. Her parents’ obsession with attempting to climb up the social ladder from middle class obscurity had left Ann deeply dubious about society’s upper echelons. Her parents had never been successful in their attempts to make friends in high places. Their efforts had always made her cringe. Ann had never cared about any of it, and it bothered her to this day that her father wasted all the money he made running three drugstores on trying to live above his means to impress people. When he passed, Mama had to sell the house to pay off his debts and have something to live on.

Mama wasn’t immune either, given her tabloid obsession. Even after Papa’s death, she couldn’t let go of the absurd hope that their ship would come in, and they’d magically join the Knickerbocker set. It was more than a little ironic that Ann got invited to a gala with the crème de la crème of New York society at the lowest moment of her life. If only her parents knew that the secret to getting high society’s attention was losing everything! It almost made her laugh.

But it was time to set aside her prejudices and preconceptions. Attending Miss Belmont’s birthday gala was the least she could do after all the PBA was doing for her. This fundraiser would provide the money to buy her a new roof. If all went well, she’d be able to finalize things with the contractor next week. The thought of spending the evening making nice with the millionaires her parents idolized made her stomach clench, but for Junior, she could survive one night in high society.

She put on her nicest black dress, the one she bought for Roger’s funeral, and tried to make her auburn hair look stylish in a loose bun, and she put on the slightest bit of makeup to distract from the circles under her eyes.

Looking in the mirror, she took stock of the changes since she last went out with Roger. She was thinner. Despite giving birth just two months ago, she’d had so little appetite the weight had come off quickly. Her face was drawn. Even with the makeup, she could still see the dark circles under her eyes, and when she tried to smile, it looked as false as it felt.

No one is expecting you to be cheerful, she reminded herself. They were expecting to speak with a grieving war widow, and that was exactly what she looked like, despite her efforts to appear at least slightly more festive. It was Miss Belmont’s birthday party, after all.

She fed Junior one last time before heading out for the evening. Miss Belmont had thoughtfully provided childcare for widows attending the gala. With significant trepidation, she got into a cab with Junior and headed to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.

As she walked into the room where the party was being held, the opulence overwhelmed her. The room looked like it belonged in a palace, with its marble pillars and decorative plasterwork. Electric chandeliers provided low, warm light to the entire event. Buffet tables dripping with delicacies lined the walls, with ice sculptures in the shape of airplanes flanking a gorgeous five-tiered cake in the center.

A passing waiter handed her a glass of champagne, which she took without thinking and then panicked. She had only drunk alcohol on four occasions: her engagement, her wedding, and the funerals for Roger and her mother. Each time, the beverage had left her with an odd floaty feeling she wasn’t sure she liked. Everyone else had glasses, though, so she held onto hers without taking a sip.

Her hostess caught her eye and came up. Miss Belmont’s dress could most generously be called daring. Ann could hardly believe it was legal to wear something so revealing in public, but she did look lovely in it. If only Mama could have seen it! She would have had something to gossip with her friends about for days.

“Mrs. Prince, I’m so glad you could join us. Thank you for coming. I wanted to introduce you to Mrs. Astor who has agreed to make a very generous donation. She wants to have a chance to learn more about the plight of the widows we’re here to help.”