“Won’t you be entirely too busy?”
“For you? I doubt it.”
I could feel my heart beating in my throat, between my ears, against my necklace. May and Jay were prattling on beside us, telling the servants to pour the wine and bring the next course. I turned my focus toward my plate again, stanching the urge to beam too brightly. A wave broke on the nearby shore and I heard the crash of all that churning water, felt the faintest misting of warm, sticky air on my skin, every inch of it rippling to life. Oh, May, you are brilliant, I thought to myself. I had wondered whether I was up for a small dinner party that evening. Now all I could think of was how grateful I was to have accepted the invitation. To have met this lovely man, Joe Davies.
Before the dessert was served, May rose from the table to make a quick trip to the powder room, and I stood to join her, eager to gush about my sudden delight in Joe Davies, eager to praise her inspired idea to introduce us. I noted how he hopped up to help me from my chair, how his eyes followed me from the table, remaining fixed on my retreating figure the entire way across the terrace. I waited until the door to the powder room had closed before I wheeled on my friend, my voice bursting as I exclaimed: “Oh, May! You are a darling.”
May took my hands in hers. She smiled, but I could see some strange new tug of restraint in her features as she returned my gaze. “My dear Marjorie.” She gave my hands a squeeze. But what was the meaning of her odd expression?
I didn’t pause to ask. Instead I gushed on: “He is remarkable. His manners! And he’s so very smart. And about to become ambassador to France or England? Goodness, he’s something. And to think that he’s managed to accomplish all this when—”
But May raised a hand, and my words ceased midsentence. “I expected you might find Joe Davies interesting,” May said. “I thought you’d enjoy meeting him. Chatting. Perhaps even flirting a bit. But I never expected…well, that. The pair of you look like you’ve been pierced by arrows.”
So I wasn’t the only one who had felt it. I couldn’t help but smile at this. I leaned closer to May as I said, “It’s daffy to admit this, but I think we might have been.”
Then why did my friend’s features appear so taut? Why wasn’t May happy that her setup had been such an inspired and immediate success? She blinked, her eyes falling to the floor. After a moment, her voice low, she said, “There’s only one problem, my dear.”
I felt my lungs tighten. “Oh? And what is that?”
May turned her stare back toward me, and I saw her entire frame wilt. And then, with a sigh, she said, “Oh, Marjorie. Joe Davies is a married man.”
Chapter 34
New York City
Her name was Emlen Davies. She was the mother to Joe’s three girls. And very much still his wife, even if the pair had been, according to May, living separately for years. How embarrassing. But even more, how disappointing. To have met a man so attractive, so charming, so interesting—and who apparently had felt all these things about me as well—only to discover that he could never be mine.
I returned to New York City at the end of the spring, eager to see my girls once more but dreading a busy social season, my first one since the split from Ned. I was surprised on the Monday morning that first week back when my butler appeared in my sitting room to tell me that the operator had telephoned with a caller from the District of Columbia. “Deenie?” I asked. She generally only phoned from boarding school on Sunday afternoons or if something was wrong.
“No, ma’am. A Mr. Joseph Davies on the line,” the man said, clearly unfamiliar with the name.
I rose and crossed to the corner of the room, where the nearest telephone perched on a round marble table. “I’ll take the call in here,” I said. The man nodded and shut the door.
I took a moment to compose myself, to clear my throat and force some calm into my voice. Then I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, Marjorie?”
It was Joe. My heart clenched at the sound of his voice.
“This is she,” I answered.
“Marjorie—Joe Davies here.”
“Hello, Joe.” A pause as I drew in a breath. “This is unexpected.”
“I…I know it is.”
Silence.
“Marjorie?”
“Yes?” I was still there.
“I had to call.”
I kept quiet, forcing him to fill the silence. Eventually, he did: “Marjorie, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Not for a minute.”