“Of course.”
* * *
The fresh air and sunshine revived Mr. Danforth, and he spoke freely, giving Lillian a behind-the-scenes account of some of the guests at the dinner. He also described his upbringing, having attended a posh boys’ school in Manhattan, followed by four years at Harvard. His mother had come from the South, and her family owned a number of cotton mills. Mr. Danforth’s father had run the business until his death.
“Have you taken over the family business, then?”
“For now. It’s been sadly declining in production and revenue, even before my father died. I was supposed to go into the office today, but I simply couldn’t bear it. I’m glad I stayed home, though, as your appearance has certainly brightened it.”
“What would you prefer to do, if not the family business?”
He hesitated before speaking, as if trying to decide whether it was safe to confide in her. “I believe this century is going to be an exciting one when it comes to medicine. I’d like to be a doctor. Help people who are ill.”
“Is it too late to switch careers?”
“It appears to be.”
Meaning, if the match came through, he’d be swept up into the Frick family business. Then again, Miss Helen was attempting to fashion her own life with the library idea, independent from her family, in spite of her father’s opposition. She might enjoy having a husband who worked in medicine. Lillian made a note to herself to mention it as a topic of conversation for tomorrow.
By now, they had reached the fountain in front of the Plaza. It always reminded Lillian of an aquatic wedding cake, with tiers of water splashing down, one over the other, and at the very top, the bronze statue of the goddess Pomona.
Mr. Danforth stared up at it. “I’m always curious why they chose the goddess of fruit trees for this particular location.”
“I’m impressed that you know that,” she said.
“I mean, she is holding a basket of fruit.”
Lillian laughed. She recalled the weight of it, of having to hold it off to the side and slightly bent over, which had sent her back into spasm. How lovely it was to see it out here, in the fresh air, where anyone who wanted could walk right up and study it. That was what she’d loved most about being reproduced in marble to adorn the city’s buildings and bridges, that the works of art weren’t hidden away in private houses or fancy museums; they were for anyone to enjoy. “The fountain was designed by Thomas Hastings, the same architect who designed the Frick house. The statue was by Karl Bitter. Pomona, the goddess, represents abundance.”
Mr. Danforth turned to her. “Now I’m impressed. I see why you’re a good fit for the Frick household.” He looked back up at the statue. “Pomona.” He looked at Lillian. “I’ll say, that’s incredible.”
She shouldn’t have drawn attention to it. What had she been thinking? “I really should go.”
“No, hold on.” He put a hand on her arm and pointed upwards. “You have the same profile as our goddess there. Do you see it?”
On one hand, it sent a surge of pride through Lillian that he’d recognized her. It was like when she was at the height of her modeling career, feted and heralded as a great artists’ muse, almost as well-known as the artists themselves. She’d imagined traveling to Europe to pose for Degas and Picasso, using her fame as a springboard to film acting. The possibilities had been endless.
But Mr. Danforth was heading into dangerous territory. Lillian didn’t answer, but instead made herself blush. It wasn’t difficult. After all, he was comparing Miss Helen’s private secretary to a naked woman. In public.
“Oh my. I’m sorry. That’s very forward of me. But I wasn’t talking about, well, the rest of her. I meant the shape of the face. Oh, God. I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”
She should respond like a blushing maiden and leave quickly, but she couldn’t stand the idea of the poor man twisting in the wind. He didn’t deserve that. So she looked at him straight in the eye, a reassuring smile on her face. “It’s fine, Mr. Danforth. Miss Helen will see you tomorrow, yes?”
“I’ll be there, I promise.”
At that, she headed uptown, eager to escape further scrutiny.
Chapter Ten
Miss Lilly, Mrs. Frick would like you to join her in the breakfast room.”
The other servants gathered around the basement dining table looked up at Miss Winnie in the doorway, then over at Lillian. “Fancy stuff,” said Bertha, who sat next to Lillian. “You’ll probably get the good coffee up there.”