“Right. Maybe you prefer to depend on a woman instead?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Candy’s eyes shone with a menacing glee. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“All I’m saying is that I plan to make enough money to support myself. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Candy cackled. “No, sugar. I’m looking to find the richest man I can. Don’t be a nosebleed.”
Before she could respond, Stella announced it was time for dinner, and the gaggle sprang up and trotted out the door. The magazine fell to the floor and Darby carefully picked it up and laid it back on the bed.
She’d said the wrong thing. She smoothed her umbrella dress and followed them down the hallway.
The clattering of dishes and lively chatter rebounded around the dining room, which was as fancy as any restaurant Darby had been to, with crisp white tablecloths and an art deco chandelier of Odeon glass hanging from the ceiling. Darby followed Stella like a lost puppy, trailing behind the one person who’d been kind. Stella filled her own plate with broccoli and a spoonful of mashed potatoes, but Darby was famished and asked for an extra chicken filet. Her girdle would be tight afterward, but she didn’t care.
“Now, tell me, where are you from in Ohio?” asked Stella once they’d sat down at the table filled with their hall mates.
“Defiance.” Keep your answers short and sweet; don’t drone on.
“What an original name for a town. Much better than Granite Falls, anyway—that’s where I’m from in North Carolina.” Stella took a dainty bite of potato and continued. “It’s strange they put you on the same floor as the models, though. The Gibbs girls are up on sixteen and seventeen.” She put a hand on Darby’s arm. “We’re happy to have you, of course.”
“Why, thank you. Happy to be had.” Wrong. Stupid. Stella threw her an odd glance.
Darby wished she were at home, cuddling her dogs while Mother cooked, enjoying the few quiet hours after school and before Mr. Saunders came home. She’d brought several books with her, including her beloved anthology of Shakespeare’s plays, and part of her wanted nothing more than to run up to her room and lose herself in Twelfth Night or Cymbeline, imagining the stage sets and costumes in her head as she read.
“I’m sorry, I’m out of my element here.” Darby fiddled with her cutlery as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
“There, now.” Stella lowered her voice. “I felt the same way before I settled in. Granite Falls doesn’t even have a bus depot, so you can imagine how overwhelming this was for me when I arrived.”
For the first time, Darby noticed the other girl spoke with a soft Southern lilt. Her voice was musical, like a song.
“I like your accent.”
“Thank you. I try to play it down—the modeling agency thinks it makes me seem unsophisticated.”
“How can they say that? It’s beautiful, like a melody.”
Stella drew back, pleased. “That’s so well put. You should be a writer.”
“You’re kind, but I can’t waste time daydreaming. I’m here to learn to be a secretary. Mother used all of the insurance money she got when Daddy died to get me here. I won’t have another chance.”
“I see,” said Stella. “And where would you like to work once you’re through with Katie Gibbs, Little Miss Serious?”
Darby smiled. “Funny, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” The din was nice; it offered them a cocoon of privacy.
“Well, I think you should aim high. You could be the secretary to a top businessman, to someone who runs a publishing house or a fashion line. Someone who’ll appreciate a girl who has a way with words.”
“That sounds like a dream. But we don’t have any such people in Defiance.”
“So don’t go back to Ohio at all, then. You can stay here in New York City.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.”
“But why not?”
Darby wouldn’t dare explain why. That she’d miss her dogs too much, and Mother would be left alone with Mr. Saunders and his moods and temper.
“Did you hear what happened last year?” Candy addressed the entire table, cutting into Darby and Stella’s conversation.
“No, what?” asked Stella, turning away from Darby.
“I heard one of the girls jumped to her death from the fourteenth floor.”
“Hush, Candy. That’s just a rumor and you know it.”
“No, it’s true.” Candy stared right at Darby. “One of the doormen told me all about it. Said they covered it up so the papers wouldn’t find out, just shoveled up the body and sent it home to wherever she was from.”
“Awful!” The girls’ protests rang out.
“We’re not supposed to know. And apparently another girl used a gun to shoot herself in the head in her room several years ago. Her ghost still walks the halls, half of her head gone.”
Stella pushed away her plate. “Lord, Candy. I’m still eating. You could at least wait until bedtime for such gruesome stories.”
“She wasn’t a guest editor or a model, I know that much. Probably a Katie Gibbs girl. You better watch out, Darby.”
The room began to spin.
“You don’t look very well,” said Stella.
“I’m fine.” Darby wiped her mouth with her napkin and offered up a weak smile.
“You know, I have a powder that would be perfect for the shine on your nose.” Stella again, saving the day. Bored with the line of conversation, the other girls turned away. “I’ll give it to you when we go back to our rooms. Would you like that?”
“I would like that very much. Thank you.” Embarrassed, Darby patted at her cheeks with her napkin, hoping to tone down the oily sheen that had haunted her since she was fourteen. She was way out of her league with these girls: ugly, uninformed, and dull-witted. How many dinners would she have to sit through before she could return to Defiance? September through June, ten months, seven dinners a week, four weeks a month: two hundred and eighty, minus some for the holiday vacations.
Back in her room, Darby threw herself facedown on her bed and silently wept into her pillow. She had just wound down when a knock sounded on her door.
“Darby, I brought your powder. Pond’s Angel Face; it’s to die for.” Stella stepped in and closed the door behind her. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Darby sat up and wiped her eyes. “I want to go home, Stella. I don’t want to be here.”
Stella joined her on the bed and put her arm around her. She smelled of vanilla, and Darby couldn’t help but lay her head on her shoulder. Stella didn’t flinch, as she might have, and this small kindness almost set off another round of tears.
“There, there.” Stella reached around with her free hand and tucked Darby’s hair behind her ear. “You’ll settle in soon enough.”
“Do you really think there’s a ghost?”
“No. I think Candy’s a first-class brat. Don’t let her get to you. You’re a Barbizon girl now; you’re one of us.”
The dull panic that had clutched her heart since she’d left Ohio loosened, just a little, and Darby let out a deep, sad sigh.
CHAPTER THREE
New York City, 2016
The risotto was simmering nicely by the time Griff arrived home, and the scent of the peonies drifted in from the foyer, where Rose had placed them in a glass vase. He popped his head into the kitchen and she smiled up at him. “Well, hello, stranger.”
Her heart flipped as it always did when she saw him, even after three years together. His eyes, which were the color of seawater, had a laserlike intensity that made politics the obvious career choice. That or terrorist interrogator. She’d seen both men and women turn into pools of mush before him. To be the object of his affection was flattering.