The Life She Wanted: A Novel(79)

Pandora had learned so much working in the atelier. She learned about yarn and fabrics and cut. Jean taught her how to haggle with vendors, how having Debussy play on the phonograph encouraged customers to order more expensive dresses. During her free time, Pandora worked on her designs. She had a suitcase full of sportswear to show dress shops in Hyde Park: sleeveless blouses with Peter Pan collars and matching pleated skirts worn just below the knees, dresses made out of jersey, knit cardigans for cool summer nights.

She would miss Maurice. Maurice had visited Paris at least once a month. He brought steaks and bottles of wine. They enjoyed romantic dinners and then retired to her bedroom. Pandora almost didn’t recognize herself in bed with Maurice. She often led their lovemaking. Afterward when they were both spent and exhausted, Maurice would ask what she was smiling about. Pandora would kiss him and reply that she was glad Esme’s bedroom was on the other side of the apartment.

But she wasn’t sad to leave Maurice. She couldn’t imagine living in Paris forever, and Maurice had made it clear he would never move to America. It was better to part now, while they still had warm feelings for each other, than for the relationship to grow morose and bitter.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I stop in New York and see my family?” Sally asked Pandora after the ship had docked and they were waiting with their luggage.

“Of course not! You haven’t seen them in a year,” Pandora said with a smile. “Plus, you have to show off your French cooking skills. Your mother and sisters will love your eggs in cocotte.”

“It will be hard to make baked eggs with whipping cream if we can’t afford the ingredients,” Sally answered darkly. After the stock market crash, Sally’s mother had been laid off from her factory job. Sally doubled the amount of money she sent every month, but it didn’t stretch far with four younger siblings at home.

Pandora squeezed Sally’s hand. “Things will improve. It can’t stay this way forever.”

At that moment, a redheaded young man approached them. He picked Sally up and twirled her around.

“I’m Tommy Sharpe,” he said, introducing himself to Pandora. “Sally probably told you all about me.”

Pandora giggled, recalling the way Sally sniffed whenever she said Tommy’s name. There was obviously something serious between them. Sally’s cheeks turned pink, and her eyes sparkled.

“I promise I’ll be on the train to Hyde Park tomorrow,” Sally said when Tommy was out of earshot. She looked at Pandora worriedly. “Will you be all right?”

“You mean how will I handle the women in Hyde Park now that I’m a widow with a two-year-old daughter?” Pandora asked, reaching for Esme’s hand. Esme wore her new pink traveling coat and held the matching pink umbrella Pandora had bought as an early birthday present. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“If anyone gives you trouble, tell Esme to poke them with her umbrella.” Sally grinned.

Sally and Tommy walked away, and Pandora began looking around for Adele. Suddenly she saw her. Adele’s shoulders were thinner, and she had new lines around her mouth, but otherwise she looked the same.

“There you are! I thought I’d never find you in this crowd,” Adele exclaimed. She reached down and gave Esme a hug. “Let’s get out of here. I refuse to cry in front of so many people, and it’s too noisy to talk.”

Pandora found a porter to carry their bags. Once they got in the car, Pandora asked Adele how she and Milton were doing.

“Milton had to sell the Rolls-Royce Phantom, and he gave up the chauffeur.” Adele sighed, maneuvering the car onto the street. She turned to Pandora, and her expression brightened. “I don’t want to talk about any of that at the moment. First, I want to hear about Paris. You have a new hairstyle! And your clothes. You’re right out of a fashion book.”

They didn’t talk about the stock market crash again until they were seated in the morning room at Blythdale. The house felt cold and empty. The fires in the living room and dining room weren’t lit, and the drapes were closed in the library.

“I let the staff go except for the cook and the maid,” Adele said, setting a tray with coffee and cream on the coffee table.

“I want to hear everything,” Pandora said, accepting the cup that Adele handed her.

The smile that Adele seemed to be wearing like a mask faltered.

“Milton has aged more in the last four months than in thirty years,” Adele admitted. “It’s worse than when Alistair and Frank were killed during the war. Milton blames himself for his customers’ losses.” She stirred cream into her coffee. “Nothing I can say or do makes him see it differently.”

“Milton must have money.” Pandora frowned. “He sends a check every month.”

Adele looked at Pandora guiltily. “I send the checks from my personal account. Milton would, but there isn’t anything to send. And Harley’s money is gone.”

Adele told her that Summerhill was gone too. It hadn’t been on the market. While Pandora was on the ship, they received an offer they couldn’t refuse. Pandora almost couldn’t bear the thought. Summerhill had been Esme’s home. She couldn’t keep accepting Milton and Adele’s charity and live at Blythdale. She decided they would live at the cottage with Willie.

Pandora guessed that Willie didn’t have any savings. What if she couldn’t get her designs into a boutique and she ran out of money? After paying for the Atlantic crossing and Sally’s salary, she barely had any left.