Tears sprang into Darby’s eyes. The Art of Conversation had said to overenunciate your consonants while speaking on the telephone. Or was it your vowels? The other girls stared at her uneasily, knowing they would get similar treatment but relieved not to be the first. She had to get this right. To prove to Mother that she could. She’d mastered biology and chemistry in school, earning straight As in every class. Surely, she could pick up a phone and answer it.
Esme’s face popped into her head. She imagined Esme onstage, bellowing out a song at the top of her lungs.
She took a deep breath. “Mr. Blake’s office. How may I assist you today?”
The words rang out confident and bright, friendly but businesslike. Perfect.
Mrs. Allen’s overly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. “Well done. You see, it’s not really that difficult. You may sit down now.”
As she did so, she gave a quiet thanks to Esme.
The dining room was almost empty when Darby poked her head in that evening before entering, ready to retreat in case any of the Ford models still lingered. But the only other occupants were Maureen and two other Gibbs girls Darby remembered from class. Maureen marched over before Darby could pick up a tray.
“Darby, we’re getting together to drill each other for the business communication test. Wanna join in?” She introduced her friends, twins named Edna and Edith, who wore matching ponytails tied with purple ribbon.
Darby was about to decline when she caught the sound of high-pitched laughter from the end of the hall. Candy was coming. “Sure.”
The seventeenth floor, though identical to the one where Darby and the Ford girls were housed, exuded warmth and welcome. Every door was wide-open, and cheery hellos rang out as they passed by. Even the cubist wall sconces that lined the hallway seemed to shine brighter.
In Maureen’s room, Darby took a seat on the bed, which was covered with a pretty quilt instead of the garish Barbizon-issued coverlet, and opened up her folder. She could use the extra time studying, that much was sure, even if her stomach was growling.
Maureen began reading out loud from her notes but stopped mid-sentence.
“Listen, it’s Benny Goodman!”
From another room came the tinny sound of a transistor radio playing the “King Porter Stomp.”
“Dance with me, Edith.” Maureen held out her hand.
Edith checked in with her sister. “We don’t dance in Lubbock.”
“Don’t dance in Lubbock? Who’s ever heard of such a thing?” Maureen crooked a finger at Darby. “You know the Lindy Hop, right?”
Darby had loved being swung across the floor at the high school dances, although her only partner was the librarian’s lanky son, who had perpetually sweaty palms. “Sure, I guess.”
Edith and Edna sat on the bed, legs tucked under them to offer up as much floor space as possible in the narrow room. Maureen shoved her chair under the desk as far as it would go. “Quick, before the song ends.”
They lightly touched hands and Darby let Maureen take the lead. For being such a stocky girl, Maureen was surprisingly light on her feet, and they twirled and jigged until Darby lost her footing and fell on the bed in a fit of giggles.
But Maureen wasn’t finished. “Everyone on your feet for the Lindy. No excuses.”
After fifteen minutes of practice, even the twins knew the basic steps and they danced in pairs, humming the tune out loud and bumping into one another with clumsy delight.
Finally, exhausted from the effort, they sprawled on the floor, reluctant to return to studying. Darby let out a soft sigh. If only she’d been assigned to the correct floor to begin with, she might have had a brighter start to her New York life.
Edith shoved her notebook with her foot. “I can’t stand doing four hours of homework every night. I should’ve stayed in Texas. My head hurts from remembering the shorthand symbols, and the pads of my fingers ache from typing. It’s inhumane, the way they treat us.”
Edna patted her leg. “Remember what Mother said: If we follow the rules and work hard, we’ll look back at our time in New York with pride.”
“And maybe marry our handsome bosses,” added Maureen.
Darby cringed at the thought. “If that’s the goal, then what’s the point of learning shorthand?” She didn’t mean to sound snappish, but the lack of dinner was getting to her.
Maureen turned over onto her stomach, chin resting in her hands. “What I hate is watching all the models go out on dates every night, dressed in silks and pearls, while we’re stuck inside. They’re all so beautiful. I hope there’ll be some boys left over for us.”
“Don’t you ever go out at all?” Darby asked.
“Sure. We went to a film matinee on Saturday and saw A Streetcar Named Desire. Have you seen it? Marlon Brando acts like a beast for the whole thing but he looks completely divine.”
“True,” Edith tittered. “But he’s not nearly as handsome as Montgomery Clift.”
“How about you, Darby? Who’s your dream date?”
“Me?” She laughed. “I’m too intimidated by the idea of a movie star to even imagine it. And I’m not much better with real people, if you want to know the truth. I met an actual living, breathing boy last night at a jazz club, and I could hardly put two words together.”
Maureen sputtered before getting the words out. “A jazz club? Not truly!”
An electric tingle flew up Darby’s spine. “Sure. It’s downtown, on the Lower East Side. They play bebop, and it’s a real bash.” She hoped she sounded casual and sophisticated.
“Can you imagine what Mrs. Eustis would say if she knew you went to a jazz club?” said Edna. “She’d explode.”
“I came back after curfew as well. Snuck up the back stairs.”
Their awestruck reaction pleased Darby to no end. She described the club, the patrons, the music, in great detail, emphasizing the elements of danger and mystery. And Sam she turned into a dashing hero, with a chiseled profile and piercing eyes.
When she’d finished the description of her daring night out, omitting the fact that a maid from the hotel had been her companion, she made excuses and hugged the girls good-bye. All the dancing had made her too jumpy to sit and study.
Down the hallway, a familiar silhouette disappeared into the stairwell. Darby called out Esme’s name, but there was no reply and no sound of footsteps, either. She must have been mistaken.
Dashing down the two flights back to her floor, Darby hummed the Lindy tune out loud, no longer afraid of walking the gauntlet of the hallway back to her room.
The Ford girls had nothing on her.
CHAPTER NINE
New York City, 2016
Miss McLaughlin’s dog had quite the bitchy personality. He liked to pee only in certain locations in Central Park, which he eagerly led Rose to, straining against his leash as if he were pulling an eighteen-wheeler behind him. And if another dog approached too closely, particularly one that looked like him, scruffy and brown, he’d bare his teeth and lunge.
The first time he did it, Rose jumped in shock and apologized furiously to the other dog owner, who glared back at her.
“It’s not my dog,” she’d said. Bird had recovered quickly, throwing her a look of maniacal glee before trotting off with his tail held high.
The key to Miss McLaughlin’s apartment lay on Stella’s kitchen counter, but Rose hadn’t touched it yet, only gathered up the bag of the dog’s food and headed upstairs with Bird. The ethics of the situation were murky, to say the least. As a reporter, she would be entering a potential source’s apartment without prior approval.
But the woman wasn’t a source yet. And Rose was beginning to doubt she’d ever agree to be. Just a batty old lady with a penchant for drama. All Rose was doing was taking care of a neighbor’s pet during a time of crisis. If she found herself having to enter Miss McLaughlin’s apartment in order to fulfill her duty to Stella, that wouldn’t violate any professional boundaries, would it?
Early the next morning, Bird woke her up with several insistent yelps. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled around the block with him, wishing she’d been able to have a cup of coffee first. Upon their return home, as they were entering the building, one of the doormen stopped Rose.
“Looks like Mr. Van Doren is back from his trip.”
Griff had returned. “He’s home?”
“Just came in a few minutes ago. I told him you’d be right back.”
As she unlocked the door, she called out his name.