The Dollhouse

“Thanks.”

Strange, how easy it was with this man. If anything, distance had made her see where she should have taken a stand.

It felt good to come clean.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



New York City, 1952


My darling!”

Darby’s mother stood in the middle of the lobby, arms outstretched. Less than two days had passed since Darby had been expelled, and the last person she expected to come calling for her was Mother. When the concierge rang her room to say she had a visitor, she’d hoped that it was Sam. Instead, when the elevator doors opened, she was greeted by Mother.

Mother obviously hadn’t heard.

Darby stifled the impulse to run into her arms and bury her head in Mother’s perfumed embrace as if she were a four-year-old child. The sound of girlish laughter drifted down from the mezzanine, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of any other guests.

She accepted a long hug instead.

“I missed you, Darby dear.” Mother held her at arm’s length and studied her carefully. “The school sent a notice last week saying you were having difficulty and I jumped on a train and here I am.”

Darby added the cost of the train to her ongoing tally of repayments. “You didn’t need to come.”

“I’m glad I did. You don’t look very well. Have you been eating? Never mind; let’s pop into the café right here and I’ll get some food in you.”

They walked through the inside entrance to the café with linked arms. The gesture was strange and artificial, as if Mother was acting out some scene in a madcap movie. Darby slipped inside a booth near the back and fiddled with her silverware until Mother shot her one of her signature looks.

“Sorry.”

“Now tell me everything.”

Darby evaded the command. “How is Mr. Saunders? And the dogs?”

“All are well.”

Mother called the waiter over and ordered Jell-O salads for both of them. Daddy used to say his wife could have been a Hollywood star, with her arched, plucked eyebrows, high cheekbones, and tiny nose. She neatly placed the napkin on her lap and removed her gloves. Every gesture was careful and precise, as if she were a doctor in an operating room.

“Now, Darby. What’s going on with you?”

“Well, I’ve been struggling, to tell you the truth. With the classes, the teachers.” Why mince words? Better to be quick, like pulling off a Band-Aid. “And now I’ve been expelled from Katharine Gibbs.”

Mother’s eyes closed briefly. An unnerving stillness settled over her. “Why?”

“I never fit in there. And for a while I thought I was doing all right. But the classes were awful and boring and I don’t want to do that with my life.”

“You’ve only been there two months. I spent all that money and you couldn’t even be bothered to try?” The pitch of her voice rose, never a good sign. “Because you found it boring? The program takes less than a year, for God’s sake. We’ll go to the school right after lunch and I’ll explain that you must stay on.”

“They made it clear I can’t go back. The letter of expulsion was mailed to you two days ago.”

Mother slammed her hand down on the table, making the silverware jump. “You’ve wasted your father’s insurance money. It’s gone. There is no refund. Do you remember, when we talked about you coming here, that there was no refund?”

The waiter came with their food, two plates of wobbly green Jell-O mold in which slices of olives, celery, and cheese floated, garnished with lettuce and tomato.

“I’m sorry about the money. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“I made a friend, a wonderful friend, named Esme. She works at a jazz club and we sang together and people really raved. Yesterday I went to the club and spoke with the owner, and he said I could start work there as a waitress tomorrow.”

She didn’t mention how her legs had gone liquid from fear when she and Sam had stepped into Mr. Buckley’s office at the club after their talk in Washington Square Park. To her relief, he hadn’t asked her if she had any experience, just told her to show up for her first shift on Saturday at five and then demanded they both get the hell out and stop bothering him.

Mother stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “A waitress? In a jazz club?”

“It’s what I came here for, right? To broaden my horizons.”

“And this Esme, is she a student at the Gibbs school as well?” The syllables of Esme’s name dripped off Mother’s tongue as if they tasted foul.

“No.”

“And where did you meet her?”

“She works at the Barbizon. As a maid.”

Mother pushed her plate away and sat back, arms crossed. “Oh, Darby.”

“You’d like her, I’m sure, if you gave her a chance. She’s a lovely girl, Mother. Smart and very talented. She’s going to be a famous actress and singer someday.” The words sounded crazy to Darby’s own ears as she spoke them aloud. She took a deep calming breath and began again. “And I have another friend, too, who’s offered to help me. Charlotte is traveling right now, but she said she’d get me an interview with a publishing company when she returns. No matter what, I’ll be okay. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you sent me here to live. At first I was so nervous, but now I love it. I don’t want to go back.”

“You cannot stay here unchaperoned. And I can no longer afford the Barbizon hotel, obviously.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“Esme and I are going to get an apartment together.”

“You do realize that you sound like a madwoman, don’t you? Do you think you’re that special? Do you realize how many girls come to New York hoping to make it big, then fall on hard times and are ruined?”

Darby flinched. “I assure you I won’t be ruined. This isn’t Defiance, and I’m not an innocent girl anymore.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“Nothing, not that.” Well, not exactly that. “The idea of going to Katharine Gibbs was your dream, not mine. I’m not suited to it.”

“So you’ll work as a waitress instead? Very nice. Your father would be thrilled.” Mother pressed one delicate hand to each temple and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“What about publishing?” Darby offered. “That’s a respectable career for a girl like me.”

“Oh, please. You don’t have what it takes.”

Maybe Mother was right. Darby had never held a real job. What did she know about supporting herself?

Mother’s eyes grew watery and she searched in her purse for a handkerchief. “When your father died, I thought we might end up begging for help. He left me nothing but his insurance policy, with the instructions that it all go to you.” As she dabbed at her tears, her mascara smudged in the half-moons underneath her eyes. Darby took the handkerchief out of her hand and gently wiped the makeup away, knowing Mother would be horrified to be seen in public looking messy. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I really am. I’ve disappointed you.”

“I suppose I’m partially responsible. I’ve kept you safe, maybe too much so. But you aren’t equipped to go it on your own, not yet. That’s why I did everything I could to make this work for you. Tuition, new clothes, a train ticket, a room at the best women’s residence in town. A girl like you needs protection from the real world.”

“I know you meant well, and I tried to do the right thing, I swear. But in the end, the life you wanted for me seemed more stifling than safe.”

“You have no idea what stifling feels like.” Mother’s words were acid. “And now every penny gone. What a waste. I never imagined you’d associate with the staff. A maid, for God’s sake.”

“I will pay you back.”

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