There were only 250 house accounts. Rachel’s family didn’t even have one. Press said they probably wouldn’t ever get one anyway because they were Jewish, and while I could believe it, it made me sad that—after the terrible war in Europe—any Americans could be so cruel.
Bolstered by the brandy, we browsed the hotel’s tiny village of shops. Rachel couldn’t try any clothes on but pushed several dresses on me with the help of the saleswoman.
“It’ll be Thanksgiving before I’m wearing anything but tents. You might as well have some fun.”
I did talk her into a black-dyed mink headband, as well as a pair of new fawn evening gloves that she would want for New Year’s Eve. I bought two dresses, both of which needed to be altered and would be delivered to the house. But when I got to the window display of the children’s shop, I froze. It was filled with winter dresses: infant dresses with frothed lace and tiny matching bloomers, larger dresses in silver and bright pink and green, all with crinolines, and a simple red wool skater’s dress, covered with white embroidered snowflakes and white triangles inset around the skirt that would show only when the girl wearing it walked or skated. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the skater’s dress. It would be just a little too big for Eva this winter, but it was so charming that I would have bought it to put away for next year.
Next year.
“What is it?” Rachel had dawdled in front of the jewelry concession next store, but caught up to me. After an awkward moment, she said “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
When she tried to take my arm, I moved away. Maybe it was the brandy that made me want to fight the dreadful longing that filled me when I looked at the skater’s dress. I only knew that I had to go inside.
Rachel let me go, but didn’t follow.
The woman behind the counter was making price tags, and looked up and smiled automatically. I knew her. When she saw who I was, her smile slipped just a bit. She’d met Eva when I’d brought her shopping.
“Mrs. Bliss. It’s so nice to see you.”
Don’t ask about her. Don’t mention her name.
“What can I help you with today?” Her voice was artificially bright. Did she see something in my face? This is what a murderer might look like.
I glanced around the store, knowing I’d made a mistake in coming in. I wasn’t ready to be there, but it was too late to turn and go. My eyes passed quickly over the boys’ clothes. My palms had begun to sweat. Now I had to buy something to prove to us both that I could be here. To prove that I wasn’t guilty.
“Picture books. I need picture books.” My need for them was sudden and desperate, and I hurried over to the book display. The saleswoman’s heels clicked over the varnished hardwood floor as she tried to keep pace.
“We have some new ones coming in a few weeks for Christmas. Here’s one about construction that has lots of trucks and building equipment.” Her hand hovered over the table, searching. So she remembered Michael, though I hadn’t ever brought him in to the shop. “And there’s a new Beatrix Potter edition as well.” Picking up the oversize anthology of the Potter stories, she held it out to me and I thumbed through it, not really looking at the pictures. I knew them already. Eva had been fascinated by Mrs. Tiggywinkle, certain that she needed to have her own hedgehog as soon as possible. She had even asked Nonie if she could find a helpful hedgehog like Mrs. Tiggywinkle to fill in for her when she went on vacation. I closed it and handed it back to her. It wouldn’t hurt for Michael to have his own copy, and the pictures were a good size to work from if I decided to decorate the walls of the ballroom when we renovated it.
“This is fine. And you have the truck book?”
She held up a second oversized book called Things We Build, with a bulldozer on the front.
“I’ll take them both.” I looked around. “And this.” I picked up a large snowy lamb with a yellow ribbon around its neck from a nursery-rhymes display.
When the books were wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon bearing the hotel’s name, she slid the sales ticket across the desk. I felt her watching me as I wrote down our account number and signed. Did she see my hand shaking? I made myself write slowly, neatly. When I was done, it looked as though someone else had forged my signature.
“Oh, do you want the lamb in a box? I’m so sorry. I forgot to ask.”
“No. Just let me have it.”
“Are we done? I’m famished.” Rachel had finally appeared. Even though she was due any day, she hadn’t picked up anything for the baby. Sometimes I wondered just how happy she was about the pregnancy. Now she came up behind me. “What did you get?”
I held the lamb out to her, forcing myself to smile. “For the baby.”
She looked as though she didn’t understand for a moment, then gave me a sweet, slightly patronizing smile in return.