Henry tossed the leaflet in the rubbish can without reading it and wiped his hands on his coat.
On the platform of the City Hall subway station, Henry waited for the train, trying to shake off the odd dread that had come over him in Columbus Park. He thought about all the things he wanted to say to Louis when he saw him again. A young man stumbled down the steps. His suit was rumpled, and he smelled of booze. He muttered to himself as if answering private voices, drawing concerned glances from the other people waiting.
“Where’s the damned train?” the man swore. “I need the train!”
“It’ll be here soon,” a businessman chided. “Settle down, there.”
People moved back, keeping a safe distance from the young man as he stalked the platform. “It was so beautiful there. I need to go back. I can’t find it. I can’t find it!”
Henry flicked a glance down the tunnel and was relieved to see the distant train light moving closer. The troubled man swayed dangerously close to the platform’s edge.
“Watch out!” Henry darted forward and yanked him back just as the train screeched into the station.
The young man slumped to the ground, mewling into his hands. “I just want to sleep. I have to get back there! I have to!”
The crowd opened up to allow the police in. One of the officers hoisted the haunted-looking man to his feet. “Come on, pal. We’ll get you a nice bed, and you can sleep this one off.”
“Dream with me,” the man half cried.
He was still muttering the phrase as the police carried him out.
Evie and her best friend, Mabel Rose, sat in the Bennington’s Victorian dining room under the faulty, winking chandelier, drinking cups of hot cocoa to chase away the winter chill. It had been two months since Evie had set foot in her former residence, but Mabel had insisted, and she was surprisingly adept at wearing a girl down. Now that Evie was here, she couldn’t help noticing how drab and shabby the place was, especially compared to the modern hotels where she’d been renting rooms. For a moment, she thought she saw Jericho, and her heart skipped a beat. But it wasn’t him, and Evie was both relieved and disappointed.
Mabel patted the Gimbels box tied up with blue ribbon. “I can’t believe you bought me a dress. It was too expensive,” Mabel fretted. “Striking workers could eat for a week on what it cost.”
Evie sighed. “Oh, Pie Face, really. Will this be a tragic screed on the dangers of capitalism? Because I must tell you, capitalism makes some darling dresses! Besides, it’s my money, not yours.”
“It is darling,” Mabel said.
“Just like you,” Evie said, peeping over Mabel’s shoulder in the direction of the Bennington’s revolving front door.
“What are you looking for? You’ve been doing that since we left Gimbels.”
“I was, um, just making sure Uncle Will wasn’t around,” Evie lied. “I don’t want to run into him. You understand.”
Mabel nodded. She broke into a grin. “Gee, this has been swell, hasn’t it? The two of us together, just like old times?”
They’d enjoyed a perfect day of ice-skating in Central Park, followed by the shopping trip to Gimbels, where Mabel had burst into giggles as Evie played elevator operator, crying out, “Fourth floor: Hair bonnets and enema bags! Ladies, Gimbels has you covered from top to bottom!” But it all felt so brief and fragile. Mabel missed Evie terribly—they hadn’t seen each other in ages—and Mabel worried that Evie’s new, exciting friends would eclipse and ultimately replace her. Mabel didn’t drink, and frankly, she’d found the one party she’d attended with Evie to be dull and meaningless, populated by shallow people who didn’t think much about the rest of the world.
But it didn’t stop her from wanting to be included.
“Say! I’ve got a terrific idea. Why don’t you stay over tonight?” Mabel said. “I’m sure my mother won’t mind.”