The Life She Wanted: A Novel(42)

“I heard there was a police raid on Chumley’s last week,” Pandora cut in. She didn’t want Virginia to get arrested.

Virginia smiled cheekily. She picked up a menu.

“Everyone who goes to Chumley’s knows the police enter from the Pamela Court entrance,” she proclaimed. “So the customers go out the Bedford Street door.”

Pandora was about to respond when a group of young men entered. One of them looked familiar. It was Preston Stevens, Harley’s playwright friend at Princeton. Another man followed him, and Pandora gasped. It was Harley. He wore a top hat with a silk scarf draped over his shoulders.

Harley caught Pandora’s eye, and he walked over to their table. He seemed even more shocked than Pandora.

“Pandora”—he leaned down and kissed her—“what are you doing here?”

Pandora didn’t know why she was so surprised. New York was only an hour from Princeton by train; Harley probably came to Manhattan all the time. But he never said anything about visiting New York when she was at Princeton. Seeing him here, unannounced, was unsettling.

“I came into New York with your mother,” she replied. “Virginia and I are having dinner.”

“I’m thrilled to see you.” Harley recovered himself. He waved at his friends. “We’re a large group; you have to join us.”

They followed Harley and joined his friends at a round table beside the window.

“This is much better. Last time I was at Sardi’s, this table was occupied by George Gershwin and his crowd,” Virginia said as she slid into a chair.

“Harley is a regular at Sardi’s,” Preston piped in. “He can get any table he likes.”

The color rose to Pandora’s cheeks. She told herself it was the rum in the fruit punch, but she knew better. Harley was acting differently than he did at Blythdale or even at Princeton. He passed around a gold cigarette case and had no problem ordering a second and third pitcher of punch. He was even dressed differently, in one of the new tuxedo jackets instead of the traditional tails.

“We saw the musical Castles in the Air,” Preston said. “The audience never stopped clapping.”

“It really was wonderful,” Harley enthused. “The costumes alone were worth the price of the ticket.”

“It’s the fifth musical we’ve seen this semester,” Preston said. “That’s all Broadway is about these days. Every show we see has more showgirls and more feathers.”

Pandora felt close to tears. She averted her gaze so Virginia wouldn’t notice. Pandora and Harley had grown so close; she thought she knew everything there was to know about him. Tonight, Harley seemed foreign to her. As if they were viewing each other from miles away instead of across a dinner table.

They talked on the phone almost daily. Why had he never mentioned that he saw plays in New York?

“Harley better bring you to my play in New York in the fall,” Preston said to Pandora.

“You have a show opening on Broadway?” Pandora asked in surprise.

“Didn’t Harley tell you?” Preston inquired. “It’s not Broadway, but it’s close enough. We just started rehearsals.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it,” Pandora said.

“I should hope not.” Preston reached for a bread roll. “After all, Harley is bankrolling the production.”

Harley’s skin turned pale, and he busied himself with cutting his steak.

Pandora looked at Harley, but he avoided making eye contact. She remained quiet through the rest of dinner. The others talked about the young new directors and the growing movie industry in Hollywood. After dinner, Virginia suggested they all go on to the Cotton Club. Pandora claimed she had a headache and said she’d go back to the townhouse.

She walked out to the sidewalk to find a taxi.

“Pandora, wait, I can explain.” Harley rushed out after her. Preston and the group waited a little farther down the block.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Pandora said unsteadily.

Harley took her gloved hand and held it in his.

“I didn’t tell you I invested in Preston’s play because I didn’t want my father to know,” he admitted. “It’s only a little money from my trust. I’m hardly funding the whole production.”

“It’s none of my business,” Pandora said.

She couldn’t tell him the real reason she was upset. It sounded childish. She knew Harley loved her; he showed it all the time. And she shouldn’t expect him to tell her everything. After all, she didn’t tell him everything. For instance, Harley knew nothing about her losing the money for secretarial school. And she hadn’t mentioned Virginia’s poetry salons. That wasn’t her secret to share.

But there was something different about Harley tonight. This was a new Harley. One who drank fruit punch spiked with rum in public and attended musicals with showgirls wearing feathered headdresses.

Harley put his arms around her. He drew her close and kissed her.

“I don’t care if I ever see a play again, as long as we’re together,” he whispered.

His lips were warm and familiar, and she let herself fall into his embrace. The uneasy feeling she had must have been caused by the rum combined with the cigarette smoke inside Sardi’s. Here, kissing on the sidewalk, Harley seemed exactly the same.