The Lucky Ones (15 page)

“You miss them, don’t you?”

Letty had been telling her story in a sparkling voice, but now when she saw how sympathetically Valentine was regarding her, her smile wobbled and her light manner began to dissolve.

“I don’t know why.” Her eyes darted away from Valentine’s. “They hardly knew I was there! It’s only my little sister, really. She didn’t know yet how mean the world can be sometimes, and I was the only one who tried to protect her from it…” Suddenly her throat was chalky, and she had to draw her hands to her lap and clasp them. She told herself she must not cry. Here she was, in the great metropolis, in a little Italian place with candles dripping wax down the brass holder toward the white linen tablecloth, on a date with a movie star she had dreamed of her whole life, and she was teary over a long-gone place! “It’s so
silly
…” she began, and though she had tried to sound light, her voice broke over the words.

“Oh, Letty.” His hands were gentle against her forehead as he tucked strands of hair behind her ears. “Most of us are like you, you know—we didn’t really leave because we wanted to. It was more that we had to. I was eight years old when I ran away from home. But you’re one of us now, and I promise you, your talent will save you.”

“I’m not crying because I’m sad.” The saltiness of her tears had reached her lips, and she could taste it, but she wasn’t ashamed of crying anymore. “It’s just that I’m so happy.”

Even the reappearance of their waiter at the table didn’t make her feel ashamed over her outburst, although she was grateful to Valentine for ordering swiftly for both of them and then taking up her hands again.

“But it can’t all have been so grim,” he went on, when the waiter was gone. “Otherwise, how would you have known how to dance, to sing?”

Using the white dinner napkin, Letty dried her cheeks. The sadness had passed, and she enjoyed telling him about Mother and the big house on Main, and how they used to practice ballet and fox-trot and put on little musicales for the family, and how Mother always told her that she was born with extra luster. Valentine listened intently, as great oval platters of fragrant food came and went. Many of the dishes were made up of ingredients she had never heard of before, and he explained what everything was, and it tasted better to her because of this. As customers arrived and ate and departed around them, he began to tell her the story of why he ran away and how he came to work in vaudeville, and though she had read much of this story in the movie magazines, the version he told her now was more heartbreaking, and more true, than the one she knew.

It was many hours later that they stepped back onto the sidewalk, and this time Valentine didn’t seem to think secrecy was necessary. His arm was draped loosely around her shoulders. Above them the sky was that dark velvet of midnight, and though the stars were not so dense as they would have been in Ohio, where some of the houses did not even have electricity yet, those that she could make out twinkled through a romantic mist.

“You see those?” he said as he gestured heavenward. “That’s what you’re going to be.”

16

WHEN SHE PULLED ON HER WHITE SWIMMING COSTUME her hands trembled, but Astrid was still convinced that Sunday was the day she was finally going to get out of bed. Saturday had been a sad, silent nothing, but today was going to be just like any other day. She donned a thin kimono, which she tied loosely at the waist, and fluffed her hair and put on a wide straw hat with the crown cut out. In the hallway, she turned up her nose and threw back her shoulders and walked the way her mother had taught her to walk. As she floated through the ballroom she saw Charlie from behind, and for a moment she thought everything was normal. She could just pretend that the last moment they had shared was that kiss outside the yacht club. After all, he was still Charlie, and he was sitting on the verandah of their big house, enjoying their view.

At the edge of the verandah she spread her arms wide above her head, saying hello to the day and the lawns rolling outward from the house. The pool did in fact look inviting, and the air, even though it was so hot, felt comforting, like a nice, warm bath. Virginia had always joked that Astrid must be part lizard, because her blood ran so cold—she was cold when nobody else was—and she was happiest baking in the sun. The other night, when everything had felt so scraped out inside her, happiness would not have been something she’d thought of ever having for herself again. But in the light of day she remembered that happiness was the one thing she was chiefly good at, and she decided there was no reason she shouldn’t make herself as happy as possible that afternoon.

But all that fell apart when Charlie didn’t even look at her. His eyes were focused, if that was the word, on something far away. He pushed back his chair, its iron feet wailing against the large gray stones, and brought himself to his full height. Then she remembered how he had been the night of the storm—so big, as though magnified. Without acknowledging her he went back inside. Astrid’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment her vision was full of spots. She blinked and saw a figure coming toward her across the grass.

“Victor!” she called out, waving one long thin arm above her head. Then the landscape drained of color, and all she saw was white. She could feel her heart, because its beat was so ragged. But she could no longer feel her toes.

“Where am I?”

“Is she awake?”

Astrid pushed herself up on her elbows and blinked. There was Cordelia, sitting on the window seat, and when she saw that Astrid had come to, she put away her newspaper. The curtains were drawn, and a standing fan was blowing at her. On the other side of the bed, sitting on a chair, was Victor. He was looking at her as though he had been looking at her for a long time already, and when she saw those dark, pensive eyes with their long lashes she had a flash of him staring at her as he carried her up the stairs.

“Oh…” Astrid groaned as she fell back into the pillows.

“You’re at Dogwood.” That was Cordelia, speaking in a clipped but assuring manner. “I’m here with you. The heat was too much, that’s all, and you fainted.”

“How do you feel?” Victor asked softly.

“Like I lost a lot of blood.” After she spoke she remembered that it was someone else who had lost all that blood, and regretted her words.

Cordelia bent to kiss Astrid’s forehead. “Are you thirsty?”

As soon as she gave the faintest nod, Victor was up and moving across the room to pour her a glass of lemonade. The ice rattled in the silver pitcher before he returned and sank down beside Cordelia. They both hovered over her as she drank, and afterward she wiped the sugary lemonade from her lips with the back of her hand. “Really, what a lot of fuss!” Astrid was trying to sound brave and careless, but her voice was halting, and she knew that she was failing by the way Cordelia’s long, thin lips made a wavy line.

“I should tell Charlie you’re awake.” Cordelia took the glass away and stood up to go. “He told me to tell him as soon as there was news.”

As soon as Cordelia mentioned Charlie, Astrid couldn’t help it, her thoughts returned to that man. How blood had gushed out of him, his life leaking into a field at night where no one could help him. How it was Charlie who had finished him there, and how scared he’d looked in his final moments, just like a frightened animal.

“Cord?”

Cordelia was nearly out of the room, but she paused and revolved in the open doorway. “Yes?”

“I think…” Astrid closed her eyes and swallowed. “I think it would be best if I could get away for a while.”

The room was very quiet, and some seconds passed before Cordelia replied, “Let me see what Charlie says,” and then her footsteps grew faint as she moved down the hall.

Astrid turned her head against the pillow and fixed her gaze on Victor. “It’s not the heat,” she said after a while.

“I know,” he replied.

For a while she stared at the expanse of bedding in front of her and imagined that those white peaks and valleys were a snow-covered slope she could ski down. At the bottom there would be a little chalet, with a fire in a pit and hot chocolate, and Victor would be there, in a thick turtleneck sweater. She thought about how in the coldest part of winter everything gets so peaceful and quiet, and all you can hear is your own breath. But she knew she didn’t deserve an escape like that.

“Victor…”

His face twitched as he glanced up at her, the corners of his mouth twisting down. “Yes?”

She extended her hand across the bedspread, working her fingers as though grasping for something just out of reach. “Hold it, just for a few seconds.”

The worry in his face didn’t go away. It just darkened a few shades. His eyes went to the door and out the window and up at the ceiling. But Astrid knew that he would do as she wished. She flipped her palm open, showing him the soft flesh, and let her eyes close. The bed went up when he rose, and back down when he sat, closer to her, and interlaced his fingers through hers. The warmth of his skin relaxed her mind, but this comfort was short-lived. He heard footsteps returning before she did and stood up abruptly when Cordelia burst through the door.

“Enough moping!” Cordelia declared with a clap of her hands. She was smiling broadly and had suddenly acquired a sunny disposition that was not native to her. “Charlie agrees we ought to get out of Dogwood. And I’ve called Letty and told her to be ready to cheer you up. Let’s pack you a bag. We’re going to the St. Regis.”

“It’s Letty Larkspur.” Victor leaned his shoulder against the door frame that separated the big bedroom from the sitting room of the suite that Charlie had rented for the girls, waiting for instructions.

“Yes, Letty’s one of us; let her in right away!”

When Victor had gone, Astrid sank back into the upholstered headboard and smiled at Cordelia, who was sprawled next to her on the bedspread, a half dozen plates of half-eaten sweets strewn between them. As soon as they had arrived they had ordered every item on the room-service dessert menu, which included chocolate fondant cake, macaroons, profiteroles, pear-shaped marzipans, strawberries in cream, and several brightly colored delicacies that they had not yet had the chance to try. It wasn’t Astrid’s usual careless smile, but Cordelia was glad to see her at least attempting a happy expression, which was more than she’d been capable of that morning. “This was a good idea, Cord. I’m feeling much better.”

“Good,” Cordelia replied, putting her fork into a slice of yellow cake with thick vanilla frosting. Ever since her big coming out with Max she had been feeling quite ready for anything, and everything tasted delicious to her, and she knew that whatever it was that was plaguing Astrid couldn’t last long.

“Darling, what’s the matter?”

The girls on the bed turned as Letty rushed in carrying a huge cone of peonies wrapped in brown paper. A little private smile played on Cordelia’s lips. Letty had always been a notch more vivid than those around her—she had charm, and she knew how to move, and her eyes had an extra light in them. But in all the years of their friendship, Cordelia had never seen Letty so brimming with confidence and life. It was as though something had switched on inside of her. She was wearing a smart dress that Cordelia had never seen before—sleeveless navy with white polka dots that swished around her legs—and bright red lipstick. Without meeting Victor’s eye, she handed the flowers off to him—the way one hands something off to a servant—and climbed on the bed next to Astrid. “Tell me
everything
.”

“You’d better have some cake first.”

Astrid handed one of the plates to Letty, and though Letty dutifully took a bite, she seemed mostly indifferent. After a second bite she pushed it aside and curled into the great heap of pillows at the head of the bed, turning her face up to Astrid expectantly.

“I was on my way to the pool when I fainted…the world just went dark, darling, and the next thing I knew I was in my bed and everyone was fussing over me!”

“Ever since the storm passed, the heat’s back, almost worse than before.” Cordelia propped herself up on her elbow, her temple against her fist, and gave Letty a knowing look. “I told her, where we’re from, people know to stay indoors when the summer gets bad.”

“But it wasn’t just the heat.” Astrid paused, and her round, green eyes sank toward her lap. A moment ago she had been telling her story in that blithe, careless manner she employed at lawn parties and in limousines, but now that tone disappeared, and she seemed again like the stunned girl Victor had carried up the stairs of Dogwood. “Something happened the—the night of the storm.”

“What?” Letty whispered. She was listening with her entire body.

“There was a man…” Astrid’s voice faltered, and her hands shot up to cover her face. A curl of yellow hair fell over her fingers, and her shoulders shook with her silent sobs.

Alarm traveled down Cordelia’s spine, and she sat up straight. She’d seen Astrid angry at times, but she’d never seen her like this—stunned and confused and at a loss for words. Letty’s eyes darted to Cordelia and then back to Astrid.

“We were having such a good time,” she wailed. “And then there was a man. One of Coyle Mink’s men. He didn’t seem to mean us any real harm, but Charlie was so angry. And then we were driving so fast. And then we were off the road and…”

The name Coyle Mink made Cordelia stiffen. Ever since she had successfully negotiated with the Hales, ever since Max had appeared on the horizon and whisked her away, ever since he’d told her, once and for all, that he wanted her to be his girl, she had felt so settled and sure that all the days to come would be wonderful. But now she remembered what Thom had said about Coyle Mink. At the time she thought he had only been saying things were going to be bad to get her to go away with him, but she couldn’t help the sense of foreboding his name stirred in her now. “And what happened?” she demanded, not quite so gently as she meant to.

“It was awful! The blood. The way the blood
smelled
. Those pathetic eyes when he looked at me right before he—right before Charlie—” The sobs were audible now, and Letty began to stroke Astrid’s shoulder, although it was hard to tell whether she registered the touch. “And then there was the way Charlie’s face got, right before he shot him. It was so stony and mean, and though he looked at me, he didn’t seem to see me at all. He was kicking that man, and I just wanted him to
stop
.” She paused to gulp air, pulling her hands off her face and nervously spreading them over her knees. When she went on, her words were slow and faraway. “I said, ‘Charlie, don’t kill him,’ and he said, ‘You want me to kill him?’ and before I could reply the gun had gone off and he made that terrible sound and there was blood everywhere.” She pressed her eyelids closed, the black lashes fanning against her wet cheeks. “Oh, God, do you think it’s my fault?” she whispered.

“No.” Giving a firm shake of her head, Cordelia reached out and rubbed her friend’s ankle. She wanted to say more, but she couldn’t think of what. She was too stunned, and too angry. Now it made sense why Charlie had so readily agreed to let them go into the city—he had agreed because it wasn’t safe for them to be at Dogwood. Anger burbled inside her to think that just when she had secured an element of tranquility for her family, he had put them in danger again. And she was furious that, after everything, he would keep the whole story from her. “No, it’s Charlie’s fault” was all she could say.

“What a horrible, awful, no-good thing for you to see,” Letty was saying in a gentle way.

But Cordelia’s thoughts were full of Coyle Mink and what was coming to the Greys now that they had stolen his business and killed one of his men. Her teeth were set hard against each other, and she wished that she was alone so she could pace the room. Her gaze drifted away from her two best friends, and that was when she caught sight of something else to worry about.

In the door frame stood Victor, holding a tall vase of peonies. His dark eyes were soft with concern, and he was watching Astrid as though he had been watching a long time already. For a moment Cordelia thought that he must be preoccupied with the same thing she was—that he was thinking about Coyle Mink, and how he would surely seek revenge. But then she recognized a special agony in his gaze—she’d seen it in John Field’s eyes—and knew that he was consumed with something else entirely.

As though we don’t have enough problems without the men falling in love with Astrid
, she thought, and pushed herself off the bed. With brisk movements she made her way across the room and took the vase out of Victor’s hands.

“We can’t stay in here all day.”

Letty and Astrid glanced up from their huddle and blinked at her, and she realized how heartless and perfunctory she had sounded.

“I only meant that the best thing is to forget about it until there’s something we can do,” she went on, more softly, lowering the peonies to her waist.

“Right you are, darling.” Astrid smiled bravely and wiped both cheeks dry. “There’s nothing to be done about that man now, and we’re in the best city in the world, and together, and the only thing the living can do is have a little fun, don’t you think?”