She leaned out of the window to get a better look. The town itself was immeasurably smaller than Kate knew it to be. Where the Flamingo restaurant should have been, the whole block was taken up by what looked to be a warehouse. The bookstore and the drugstore, both gone. In their places, an open field with a large sign proclaiming FRESH BLUEBERRIES! PICK YOUR OWN!
Next to the water, the Dockside Café, too, was gone. An industrial building stood there, two stories high. Kate saw a sign on its wall but could not make it out completely. Only the word FISH was discernable. She saw no antique shops and no art galleries. There were stores on the streets, just not the ones that Kate knew. A grocer, what looked to be a restaurant. Was that a hardware store? Kate couldn’t make out the rest of the signs.
Instead of the row of stately Victorian homes that Kate had come to know, one small, clapboard house with a decaying front porch stood between Harrison’s House and the town center. Shabby though the house was, Kate noticed a magnificent garden that stretched into what looked to be two lots. Kate could make out stalks of corn, sunflowers, lettuce, beans, and a whole host of other vegetables ripening in the sun. Beautiful, Kate thought. She noticed that the roads were unpaved and entire blocks were simply undeveloped, grassy land. Lines of raised, wooden sidewalks snaked through town, so the ladies and gentlemen who lived there wouldn’t soil the bottoms of their dresses and trousers on the muddy, dirty streets. The lakeshore looked rugged, untamed and dominant against such simple edifices.
It wasn’t until Kate looked closer at the people on the street that she got it. Long dresses, three-piece suits and bowler hats, parasols. Model T cars. Horses tied to hitching posts here and there. No cell phone, power line, or music to be seen or heard. She was looking out the window into Wharton circa 1910.
Her other dreams had seemed just as concrete and real to her as this one did, but they had not contained such specific information. She learned a bit about Addie in those other dreams, to be sure, but she hadn’t learned anything about her surroundings. This dream, this was all about experiencing Wharton as it was a century ago. Kate was joyous, wanting to take it all in. She consciously tried to remember every last detail. I must not forget anything. Please let me remember it all.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” a voice jolted Kate out of her reverie. She had been staring intently out the window, but at the sound of the voice, she felt herself whirl around toward the interior of the room.
“It is indeed,” Kate said, in a voice that was not her own. Kate was astonished to be facing Harrison Connor, her own great-grandfather, as young and vibrant as he looked in the photo Kate had found in that very room. He was wearing a tuxedo and flashed a sincere smile when their eyes met. Only then was Kate able to see beyond him into the sea of people in the ballroom. Women in floor-length dresses, men in tuxedos. The room was glittering with light and shimmering with laughter and music. Some people were dancing, while others stood in groups drinking cocktails and chatting. Servants wandered about carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Kate looked down at her dress, green taffeta, and then was able to feel it scratching against her legs.
Kate heard herself saying, “I’m so glad you invited us to this gala. It’s quite lovely.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Addie, I know you’re no fan of these affairs.” Harrison chuckled, taking her hand. “You’re so good to come anyway.”
Kate felt herself smiling at this man.
“I brought this up from the cellar especially for you.” Harrison handed her a wine glass. “I know that the martinis we’re serving tonight aren’t to your taste, so I raided my private wine stock. It’s from France. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Kate smiled and thanked him as she brought the glass to her lips. She tasted the wine, cool and crisp on her tongue. “This is delicious, Harrison, thank you,” she said.
“Your husband is a lucky man,” Harrison said, raising his glass. “I don’t believe he realizes exactly how lucky he is to have such an extraordinary wife.”
Kate looked across the room and saw the man to whom Harrison was referring. Addie’s husband, Jess Stewart. She recognized him from the dreams. And from the photograph, and the newspaper article about the trial. He was so effortlessly handsome, so alive there in the candlelight of a glittering ballroom, wearing a tuxedo as though he had been born in it. He was holding a martini glass, standing in the center of a gaggle of beautiful women. He said something Kate could not hear, which caused the women to erupt into laughter.
“I don’t know how extraordinary I am.” Kate felt herself smiling and shaking her head. “Jess loves these affairs—look at him over there, life of the party as usual. And me here, cowering in the corner. I never quite know what to say.”
“Say? Darling Addie, you needn’t say anything at all.” Harrison smiled at her. “You’re the most captivating woman in the room without speaking one word. But I understand your feelings. Sometimes I’d rather just stand here looking out the window at the harbor instead of entertaining all of these people, as well.”
“Do we have a pair of wallflowers here yet again?” It was Celeste, sidling up to her husband. She hissed, “Harrison, mingle! And Addie, my goodness, can’t you ever join in? Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!” And then she flounced off, toward other people’s conversations.
“She hath spoken.” Harrison smiled to Kate. “So shall it be done.” Harrison held out his arm, and Kate felt herself take it as he led her into the fray. They walked toward the group of women congregated around Addie’s husband.
“Jess, old boy, I’m so sorry to have monopolized your enchanting wife this evening,” Harrison said, a bit too casually considering the force of his gaze into Jess’s eyes. “You must have been wondering what had become of her.”
“Addie!” Jess gushed, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. He smelled of alcohol. Was he drunk? Kate thought he was. “Darling, you must meet some old friends of mine. Sally Reade, Claire Thorson, and Helene Bonnet.” He gestured toward the striking women standing next to him. “I’ve known these girls since my early college days. They’re in town from the city this weekend.”
Before Kate had a chance to respond, one of the women spoke. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Stewart.” Sally Reade bared her teeth—Kate supposed it was a smile—and extended her hand. “I’ve been longing to meet the woman who married our Jess Stewart.”
The two other women giggled. “We all thought Sally was going to be the one who coaxed him to the altar,” one of them said. “In college they were quite close.” More laughter.
“We were never so surprised as when Jess came back to the city and announced he was engaged,” said the other. “You must be quite something, my dear, to have won his heart.”
These sort of catty women made Kate’s skin crawl. She would have loved nothing better than to put them in their places with a few well-chosen words. But she could not speak. She simply looked from one woman to another and back to her husband again, with tears stinging her eyes. Then Sally Reade smiled broadly and put her hand lightly on Jess’s forearm as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, all the while staring into Kate’s eyes. Kate did not mistake the woman’s intent. This was a clear gesture of ownership.