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.
“I’m here, in the living room.”
Relief surged through her. He was back. She was pissed he’d put her through the anguish of the past four days, but it was hard to simply turn off the attraction. She’d missed him.
He stood by the window and gave her a smile.
“Griff, how are you?” She put down her keys and stood there, as awkward as a teenager. The dog bounded into the room, excited to have another person to boss around.
“Who’s this?” Griff’s brows knitted in concern.
“A neighbor’s dog, who was being cared for by another neighbor while she’s away. But she had to go to the hospital, the second neighbor, that is. So I’m taking care of him until she’s released.” Enough, already. Stop babbling and let him take the lead.
Griff kneeled down and held out his hand. Bird trotted over and took a sniff, then allowed him to scratch his neck. If the dog could have purred, he would have. Of course Bird loved Griff. Griff charmed everyone.
She sat on the arm of the couch and crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”
“I’m fine, we’re fine.” He stood up and put his hands into his pockets.
“Miranda’s doing better?” she ventured.
“We found a place for her, a school that we hope will help. And a therapist.”
“That’s good news.” She straightened her shoulders, hoping to look strong and determined.
His face crumpled. “I miss you.”
Her heart twisted in pain, but a small part of her lit up with triumph. He was miserable. She wished she could read his mind and know what was lurking there, instead of feeling it out, syllable by syllable.
She walked over to him and held him close. He was the first man she’d loved in a grown-up, serious way. He buried his face in her neck and sobbed. After a minute, he stepped back and wiped his tears with the meaty pad of his palm, like a little boy.
He sat on the window ledge and pulled her down beside him and rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry—this is so hard.”
“I know.” Or did she? “What is?”
“There’ve been some changes since the last time we talked. I hadn’t realized Connie had already made plans.”
An icy shiver shot down her spine at the sound of the woman’s name on his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Griff.”
“I spoke too soon before. It turns out that we need to be in the city, as part of Miranda’s treatment.”