The Life She Wanted: A Novel(25)
Outside the window, cars came and went in the driveway. Two men emerged from the house that Pandora recognized as Harley and Preston. Preston got into the driver’s seat of a red car. Harley leaned into the window, and they had an animated conversation.
Pandora was about to turn away when a woman caught her attention. It was Adele Enright, hurrying from the side of the house to the driveway. She linked her arm through Harley’s, and they walked up the steps. They paused for a moment at the door, and Adele looked up at Harley’s face.
Adele had spoken so fondly of Harley, Pandora expected to see love and affection in her expression. Instead, she saw something different, something peculiar. It was worry mixed with fear.
Chapter Six
July 1926, Hyde Park, New York
Pandora descended the staircase to the living room for cocktails. Tonight, nothing about her gown was understated. She was determined to outshine Lillian.
She was very proud of her dress. She’d gotten her inspiration from one of Jeanne Lanvin’s earlier designs, a robe de style, which she was famous for. The pink satin bodice had cap sleeves shaped like oysters, and the narrow waist and dropped skirt complemented her slim figure. The skirt was fuller than the popular flapper gowns, almost like a ballerina’s tutu. Pandora added a gauze sash around the waist and gold appliqués to the skirt. The finished effect was worth every penny that the fabric had cost her. Just a touch of lipstick offset her creamy complexion. She glowed.
All eyes turned to her when she entered. She knew they would. She resembled the actress Gloria Swanson in the movie Beyond the Rocks, with Rudolph Valentino. Sleek and elegant.
Her intention wasn’t to make Owen jealous or even to attract other men. She wanted to prove something to herself. Pandora might not have Lillian’s father’s money or Lucy Vanderbilt’s pedigree, but she had her own intelligence and talent, her own beauty and charm. Tonight, that had to be enough.
She glanced around the room to see whom she wanted to talk to. Harley Enright stood next to the punch bowl. He looked very handsome in a single-breasted black topcoat with shiny faille cuffs. His bib-front dress shirt was smooth and stiff, the buttons made of black onyx.
Pandora walked over and joined him.
“Pandora, how nice to see you!” Harley greeted her warmly. “Would you like a cup of fruit punch? I made it from my own recipe. Gin and shredded pineapple with orange juice and a squeeze of lemon.”
Pandora accepted the cup of punch. It was delicious, sweet but with a touch of tartness.
“Is that the sort of thing they teach you at Princeton?” she asked, smiling. “I thought college boys were supposed to learn economics and finance.”
Harley’s face clouded over, and Pandora wondered if she’d said something wrong. But he quickly smiled.
“Learning to be a bartender is more important than any classroom lecture.” His tone had the same light manner. “Every Princetonian is guaranteed to be able to fix a gin Rickey and a southside by graduation.”
“I almost feel sorry for you,” Pandora said with a laugh. “Between football games and the eating clubs, it’s a wonder anyone goes to class.”
“Some people don’t, especially athletes.” Harley nodded. “The professors give them As anyway. The theater set don’t get the same privileges. I pored over my economics textbook every night and still got a C; my father was very disappointed.”
That’s why Harley’s face had clouded over. His father was unhappy with his grades.
“He can’t blame you as long as you studied,” she countered.
“It’s different when your father owns a bank and expects you to take the office next to his after graduation.”
“Is that what you want?” Pandora wondered.
“I’d make a terrible banker.” Harley sighed. “I’m not quick with numbers, and I’m worse at sports. My father believes most business deals happen on the tennis court or at one of his clubs. I thought he’d be happy when I joined the Triangle Club at Princeton, but I even got that wrong. Most of the athletes like Archie and Owen belong to the Tower Club and the Ivy Club. The Triangle Club is for theater people.”
“What’s wrong with theater people?” Pandora inquired.
Harley finished his cup of punch. He poured another and continued talking.
“According to my father, they take investors’ money and fritter it away as if it’s confetti on the stock market floor. He has more respect for the janitors than the actors. He says at least they’re doing something useful.” He looked up from his drink. “I’m grateful to the janitors, of course, but it’s not the same. The stage is the most thrilling place in the world.”
“Do you want to be an actor?” she asked curiously.
Pandora didn’t know any actors. She had only been to the theater in New York once, with Virginia and Archie last year.
“God, no. I only practiced with Preston because he needed someone to read lines.” Harley shook his head. “I want to be a director and producer. There’s nothing like putting on a show: Watching the audience take their seats expecting nothing more than a couple of hours of entertainment. Then, when the play is good, the lights go on and there’s a hush over the space. You can tell by their faces that they’ve been transformed.”