The Life She Wanted: A Novel(30)

“My father is wonderful, but he’s quite private; he doesn’t talk a lot. Esther, the Van Luyens’ cook, has always been kind, but she’s not like a mother. She’s only ten years older than me and she’s busy. She has a serious suitor.”

She stopped. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

“Maude and Robert Van Luyen have always been good to me. And Virginia and Archie are as close as a proper brother and sister.”

“What about Pandora Carmichael?” Harley questioned. “What makes you happy?”

No one had ever asked Pandora that before.

“Beauty makes me happy,” she said. “Beauty in the normal things: flowers and houses and gardens. Beauty in fruits and colorful vegetables and the sky on a summer day.” She flushed, embarrassed. “I suppose that’s why I love fashion. To me, beautiful dresses are a type of art.”

“I’m sure a young woman as lovely as you is talented,” Harley said gallantly.

“And I love children,” she said earnestly. “I’ve always wanted a family.”

Pandora kept talking. Harley had prompted something to open inside her, and she found she couldn’t turn it off.

“It’s become acceptable for women to have careers, but they can’t want a family too,” she continued. “Virginia is against marriage; she wants to lead a life of the mind. Your mother is terrific. She’s the first person I’ve met who understands you can want both at the same time.”

Pandora stopped to look in a store window. She was afraid she’d said too much. Harley was easy to talk to, but she didn’t want to bore him. She needed to turn the conversation back to him.

“What about you? What makes you happy?” she inquired.

Harley took off his hat and wiped his forehead.

“I love plays and the theater, but I also love nature. That’s why I love Princeton. I can spend all day at the Triangle Club hashing out a script and then take a walk or go rowing on Lake Carnegie.” He put his hat back on. “I like games—charades and croquet. My brothers were much older than me, but my sister, Annie, and I were very close. She’s in San Francisco. I wish I could visit her and her children more often. I count my mother as a friend as well. When I’m at school, we often meet for lunch in New York.”

Pandora was enjoying talking to Harley so much she almost forgot about Adele’s birthday present.

“Then we’d better find her a gift,” she said, stopping in front of a dress shop. “Why don’t we go inside and look around.”

They didn’t find anything at the dress shop. Adele probably bought her clothes at Lord & Taylor, and Pandora didn’t know her style. A florist delivered flowers to Blythdale every week. And it didn’t seem right for Harley to buy his mother jewelry.

A stationery store stood on the corner. Pandora went inside.

She moved past the table of glass paperweights and silver letter openers and a rack of notecards with embossed envelopes. Pandora pulled a burgundy leather notebook with lined pages from a shelf.

“This is perfect.” She handed it to Harley.

“A notebook?”

“Usually when a man gives a present, it’s a reflection of himself. A dress so his wife looks more elegant than the other women at a dinner party, a piece of jewelry to show off his wealth. Perfume is lovely, but often the saleswoman suggests a scent the man likes himself.

“Women should have those things, but they can buy them for themselves.” She warmed to her theme. “A notebook to write down her private thoughts is different. You’d be giving it to her for her own enjoyment. She’ll keep it locked in her drawer; you’ll never see it again.”

Harley’s eyes lit up. Pandora could tell that he was impressed.

“That’s astonishing. How did you think of it?”

“Women do everything for their husbands: they make sure their shirts are ironed and their meals are prepared; they even plan their social schedules. Maude Van Luyen calls her husband’s secretary twice a week to coordinate his appointment book.

“It’s the same with the children. Once a woman has children, her time is spent choosing the right schools, taking them to lessons, arranging birthday parties.

“Women need something of their own to be happy. A private notebook isn’t much, but it’s a start.”

Harley took the notebook to the counter.

The salesman wrapped it in tissue paper and tied the package with a satin ribbon.

Pandora and Harley walked onto the sidewalk. It was midafternoon, and children played in the park. A family licked ice cream cones, and two women in floral dresses passed by with hat boxes.

“Can I buy you an ice cream to thank you?” Harley asked.

She liked being with Harley. It felt different from being around Owen. She’d always had a slightly anxious feeling with him. And there was none of the spirited banter she had with Archie. She felt comfortable with Harley. And he was so handsome women turned around to get another look.

She nodded and took his arm. “It’s so hot, an ice cream sounds perfect.”

Pandora thought Harley would order from the Good Humor wagon parked on the corner. But he walked past the ice cream truck to Finley’s drugstore. Inside, there was a soda fountain and a row of high-backed stools. A huge mirror stood behind the soda fountain, and there was a selection of glass bottles arranged in front.