Perhaps it was the period of prolonged rest; perhaps it was the gentle sunshine and the fresh air, the tender and protective presence of my household staff; but by the end of winter, I began to feel the stirrings of hope once more. I began to feel that my heart had healed enough to brave some small outings past the gates of my own personal cloister. I began to telephone Colby Chester more regularly, to check in on board meetings and keep abreast of the company’s updates. On one of those calls, Colby paused at the end of our talk. Silence pulsed on the long-distance line, and I could tell there was something more he wished to discuss before we hung up, likely having nothing to do with business. “Marjorie?”
I curled the cord around my fingers. “Yes?”
“If it’s not too forward…if you don’t mind my asking…how are you doing? Really doing?”
I sighed, considering my answer. After a long moment, I said, “You know what, Mr. Chairman? It hurts like hell. In fact, I felt like I was in hell there for a while. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let any devil get the best of me.”
I could make out the sound of Colby laughing from hundreds of miles away, and then his reply: “I sure am glad to hear that. That sounds like the old Miss Post.”
“No need to go calling me old—”
“Oh, Marjorie, you know what I mean.”
“Colby, you’ve known me long enough. I’m not going to let anyone knock me down for too long. I’ll always get back up to go another round.”
When Colby spoke, his voice had turned wistful, and I could tell he was smiling as he said, “You sound an awful lot like someone I once knew.”
I nodded, not saying anything.
After a moment, Colby added: “Well, Miss Post, it’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Colby. It’s good to be back.”
Chapter 33
Palm Beach, Florida
Spring 1935
It sounded like a simple enough invitation, a small gathering with my old friend May Carlisle. “It’ll be just a casual dinner chez nous, Marjorie, dear,” May promised when she telephoned me from her home a short distance from South Ocean Boulevard. “Jay and I are having a dear friend who is in town from Washington. We’d love to have you.” A pause, and then: “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet. “Oh, all right. One dinner. I can’t see the harm in that.”
So I pulled myself together. And as I scrutinized myself in the mirror I noticed that, for the first time in months, I liked what I saw in the reflection. The sun had kissed my cheeks, turning them a soft, rosy hue. My hair, freshly washed and swept loosely from my neck and face, was streaked with gold. My body was lean—too lean, as I’d had absolutely no appetite lately—but my muscles were firm from all the swimming and gardening, and my blue eyes had regained some of their glimmer as I looked forward to a night in the company of an old and caring friend.
May’s welcome put me at ease as soon as I arrived, reassuring me that I had been right to make my first and gentle foray back into society at her side. “My darling Marjorie. I’m so delighted you made it!” May greeted me with a kiss on each cheek and a full smile, her arm sliding around my waist. “But my goodness, look at you. Slim as a chorus girl.”
“Well, it’s a wonder what heartache will do for the waistline,” I answered, my tone wry.
“Oh, honey, I know.” May leaned toward me, giving my arm a conspiratorial squeeze. A gesture that felt more like support than pity, which I appreciated. May went on: “What a cad he turned out to be. I’m not even going to speak his name aloud. I’m just glad you are out, rather than pining away at home. He’s not worth your tears, Marjorie.”
“Thank you,” I answered, fearful I’d lose my fortitude if I said more.
May straightened beside me, looking effortlessly lovely in a flowing dress of lemon-yellow chiffon with a large floral print, her hair pulled back and accented by a single spray of hibiscus. “Well, I’d offer you a stiff drink, but I know you’d just turn me down. Come say hello to Jay. He’s been asking after you all winter.”
I saw where her husband, Jay, stood across the candlelit terrace—but he was not alone. “Who’s that?” I asked, my steps halting as my eyes landed on the gentleman involved in conversation with May’s husband. The man was tall and slim, with dark hair and, from the looks of it, a strong opinion on whatever topic he was discussing.