His praise, given when she least deserved it, choked Veronica up.
However, the offer, while appreciated, wouldn’t work for two reasons. First of all, Polly. Veronica would never leave her to take a job in America, under any circumstances.
Miss Helen sensed her hesitation. “What is it, girl?”
“I do appreciate your kind offer, Miss Helen. But I’m afraid I have family back in London that I can’t leave. I have a sister, you see, who’s in an institution, and I’m trying to get her out of there and back home with me and my mum, but it’s been frustrating . . .” She trailed off, aware that she’d gotten into far more detail than she’d meant to.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Miss Helen pressed her fingertips to her throat. “I would have done anything for my sister, anything. I adored her and hated that she suffered so.” She flicked a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed delicately at the corners of each eye.
“So you understand,” said Veronica. Although they’d started out on the wrong foot, she had to admit she was coming to admire Miss Helen. They had more in common than she could have imagined.
Miss Helen suddenly slammed her hand on the table, making the spoons rattle in the saucers. “I know, we’ll bring her over here,” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “There are all kinds of arrangements that can be made. Your mother, too, if she likes. It will be my way of making right what I couldn’t do for Martha.”
Veronica sat for a moment, stunned. She could bring Polly here. They could all start a new life together. Of all things. “That would be . . . remarkable.” She spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “Um, there’s one thing, though. I really loved going through the old letters and documents with Joshua, figuring out how they relate to the past, and to what’s going on today. Do you think, down the road, I could apply for a job as an archivist? If I need additional school or training, I’d be willing to do that. Whatever it takes.”
She glanced over at Joshua, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. Over the past two days, he’d taught her a lot about taking risks and charting one’s own path, even if the world of art and history she was stepping into seemed daunting—and, in his case, uninviting—at first.
“You’re a tough one, I can see that. Archivist? At the Frick?” Miss Helen raised her chin imperiously. For a moment, Veronica couldn’t tell if she was irritated or impressed. “Well, I might have a few connections there, as it happens.”
“So I’ve heard,” Veronica volleyed back.
“That haircut, though, is unfortunate. You ought to wear it like I do.” Miss Helen patted her pompadour. “It’s functional and stays out of one’s eyes. I haven’t changed my style since 1903, and I’m quite proud of that fact.”
Lillian let out a most unladylike snort as Veronica looked around the room, at these people who she’d just met, who’d very possibly changed the course of her life. “It’s a classic, for certain, Miss Helen. Just like you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lillian and Archer ventured into New York City to visit the Frick Collection at Helen’s behest—or, more aptly, at her command—just as spring was beginning to unfold. The setting sun lent a vibrant pink blush to the limestone mansion, one that almost rivaled that of the expansive magnolia trees that flanked the steps to the living hall.
Around the corner, at the front entrance, Lillian stopped and looked up, just as she had years ago at the dawn of the Jazz Age, and studied the reclining figure above the doorway.
“You look quite languid up there, my girl,” remarked Archer. “But why is the fat baby on the right holding a Ping-Pong paddle?”
“It’s a cherub holding a mirror, you dolt.”
“Could’ve sworn it was a Ping-Pong paddle.”
She was about to give him a good swat with her purse when Helen appeared at the entrance. “There you are. Come on then, you’re late.”
They followed her through the new reception hall and back out into a garden, where a rectangular lily pond reflected the color of the sky. In the middle of the small lawn stood Veronica and Joshua, holding hands. Lillian smiled at the match. That snowy winter’s day up in Pine Knolls, she’d sensed an electric connection between them, something deeper than an alliance forged to manage Helen’s moods and machinations. She and Archer approached, and all shook hands.
“Congratulations on the new job, Veronica,” said Lillian.