The Life She Wanted: A Novel(18)

“I didn’t know Pandora designed dresses,” Lucy Vanderbilt commented.

“Pandora works for the Van Luyens.” Lillian smiled sweetly at Lucy. “Our housekeeper, Alice, does our sewing. It’s wonderful to have someone available to sew on a button or fix a zipper.”

The heat rose in Pandora, and it took all her willpower to hold her tongue.

“Pandora is much too talented to do that kind of sewing.” Virginia smoothed her skirt. “She made my dress, and the one she’s wearing.” She sipped her cocktail. “Pandora’s father is Willie Carmichael; he played at Wimbledon. A while ago, he was asked to play at Madison Square Garden. His photo was in the newspapers. Pandora was wearing one of her dresses and she was in the photo too. Afterward, the phone didn’t stop ringing with women who wanted to know where Pandora got her dress.”

Pandora chuckled to herself. Archie often said Virginia should be an actress. She had no problem telling little white lies.

It was true that Willie was asked to play at Madison Square Garden, but only because his former pupil, the French tennis star Suzanne Lenglen, was competing. The newspaper did carry a photo, but Pandora was in the back, and no one could see her dress. The only phone call she received was from a reporter wanting to know if Suzanne was retiring after her win at the French national championships in Auteuil.

Lucy Vanderbilt and the other girls studied Pandora’s and Virginia’s dresses with new interest.

“It is difficult to buy one’s whole wardrobe in Paris,” Lucy Vanderbilt reflected. She turned to Virginia. “That is the prettiest fabric. It reminds me of Chanel’s latest collection.”

Pandora couldn’t help but be pleased with Lillian’s tight-lipped smile. She was sure the other girls at the bridal tea would ask her to design dresses for them.





For the next week, Pandora jumped every time the phone rang. She was certain one of Lillian’s guests would order a dress. But the calls were never for her. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she had to force herself to eat.

She dreaded what would happen if her father found out what she had done. She could tell him the truth, but he might get so angry, he’d stop speaking to her. And she’d feel so ashamed. It was better to wait and hope that her plan worked.

On Saturday, Pandora was sitting in her bedroom reading a book on Madeleine Vionnet when her father burst through the door. She had never seen him look so angry.

“I came across this in the drawer,” he blurted as he waved an envelope. “You were supposed to mail it last week.”

Pandora gulped. It was the registration paperwork for secretarial school. And it was late.

“I went to the bank to withdraw the money and send it myself.” Willie kept talking. “The teller said you already took out the money. What did you do with it?”

Pandora hung her head. She twisted her hands nervously. She had hoped to have something to show for her plan by the time he found out, but it was too late. “I bought fabric to sew some dresses.”

Pandora explained her plan and how it hadn’t worked. When she finished, she could see a vein pulsing in her father’s forehead.

“That money was for secretarial school, so you’ll have some way to support yourself. I’m getting older, the arthritis in my shoulder is worse. Last week, I had to cancel one of my tennis lessons because it hurt too much to move my arm.” He glared at her. “What will you do when I can’t teach tennis and the Van Luyens let me go?”

“That’s why I want to open a boutique,” Pandora said urgently. “So I can take care of both of us.”

“Do you really think that’s possible? We have no means, and you have no clientele. You’re only invited places because of the Van Luyens,” he scoffed. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have raised you this way.”

“I don’t understand,” Pandora said, perplexed.

“When your mother left, I took this job because I wanted to protect you from living in poor circumstances in New York. But living at Riverview has only filled you with fanciful notions. Secretarial school might not get you a prestigious degree, but you’d learn skills that are worth something. Now you’ll end up working at a factory or married to someone you don’t love.”

“It’s not your fault, and I want to be a designer because I love creating dresses.”

“Your mother loved dresses, and look what happened,” he snapped. “You’ll end up like her. You’ll get a job in a department store. You’ll grow tired of being on your feet all day and being talked down to by women who used to be your friends.” His eyes flashed. “Then what will you do?”

“I’ll find a way to pay you back,” Pandora said determinedly. “I promise. Then I’ll figure out how to open a boutique in Hyde Park and a bigger one in New York.” She waved at the book she was reading. “Madeleine Vionnet has a salon in Paris, and last year she opened one on Fifth Avenue. If she could do it, why can’t I?”

Willie’s expression was filled with rage and something new. It took a moment for Pandora to realize what it was. It was the look he had whenever he talked about her mother. Pain mixed with defeat.

“Because you’re Pandora Carmichael, and your father is a tennis instructor.” He stood up. “The only life I could offer you isn’t good enough. Now you’ve wasted your only shot at a decent future. And you’ve put my future in jeopardy too. That money was going to benefit both of us. It’s gone, and there’s no way to get it back. Esther is waiting for you in the kitchen. She needs help with the meatballs.”