Archie tossed his apple core into the garbage, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Anyway, I have to go. Lucy Vanderbilt invited me to go rowing. Though I’ll do all the work. She’ll sit in the boat, eating strawberries prettily and saying she’s glad she wore a wide-brimmed hat.” His shoulders heaved, and he took a long breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you. Just don’t get too serious with Harley.” His smile returned, and Archie was once again the golden boy she had known since childhood. “You’re a lovely young woman, Pandora. Lots of men would be interested in you.”
The door closed, and Archie’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Pandora recalled what Harley said about the settlement houses, and the women working in the factories. Pandora was so sheltered. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the poverty in New York when she was young, and she had since been shielded by the gates of the estates along the Hudson. If Pandora was ever in Adele’s financial position, she’d find a way to help others.
After she finished making the Jell-O salad, she’d sew a new dress. How many times had her father said that if he were still young, he would have another chance at Wimbledon, and this time he’d win? Pandora was young; she couldn’t give up. She had to find a way to follow her dreams.
The phone rang as she was sewing on the last button. She went into the kitchen and answered it.
“I’m calling for Pandora; this is Harley Enright.” The sound of his voice sent a thrill down her spine.
“This is Pandora.”
“Pandora,” he said, “it’s my mother’s birthday next week, and I need to buy her a present. I wondered if you’d help me. I’d pick you up and drive us to Hyde Park.”
“You want me to help choose a gift?” Pandora said in surprise.
“I don’t know many girls, and I’m sure you have good taste,” he shared. “If you’re too busy, I can figure it out myself.”
Esther’s Jell-O Perfection Salad was ready and sitting in the icebox.
“I have time, and I’d love to come.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
Pandora hung up the phone. She should be wary after what happened with Owen. What if Harley only saw her as the help and wasn’t interested in her? But she couldn’t deny the small flutter of attraction.
She went to her room to choose what to wear.
That afternoon, Pandora and Harley strolled along Main Street in Hyde Park. Pandora wore a red cotton dress with a matching cloche hat. She was glad that women weren’t required to wear gloves during the day anymore. It was too hot.
“Tell me about yourself. Have you always lived at Riverview?” Harley inquired.
“What do you mean?” She turned to Harley.
Harley was dressed casually in a beige V-neck sweater and tan linen trousers. His boater hat had a jaunty sash in the Princeton colors of orange and black, and he wore brown-and-white Oxford shoes.
“We spent the house party talking about me,” Harley replied. “I don’t know anything about you or how you grew up.”
“I don’t remember a lot from before my mother left,” Pandora said.
She didn’t want to talk about Laura. It was too painful, and the last thing she wanted was for Harley to feel sorry for her. It was likely that most of the other young women Harley knew had doting parents. It was better if she presented herself in the same way.
“My father is wonderful, but he’s quite private; he doesn’t talk a lot. Esther, the Van Luyens’ cook, has always been kind, but she’s not like a mother. She’s only ten years older than me and she’s busy. She has a serious suitor.”
She stopped. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful.
“Maude and Robert Van Luyen have always been good to me. And Virginia and Archie are as close as a proper brother and sister.”
“What about Pandora Carmichael?” Harley questioned. “What makes you happy?”
No one had ever asked Pandora that before.
“Beauty makes me happy,” she said. “Beauty in the normal things: flowers and houses and gardens. Beauty in fruits and colorful vegetables and the sky on a summer day.” She flushed, embarrassed. “I suppose that’s why I love fashion. To me, beautiful dresses are a type of art.”
“I’m sure a young woman as lovely as you is talented,” Harley said gallantly.
“And I love children,” she said earnestly. “I’ve always wanted a family.”
Pandora kept talking. Harley had prompted something to open inside her, and she found she couldn’t turn it off.
“It’s become acceptable for women to have careers, but they can’t want a family too,” she continued. “Virginia is against marriage; she wants to lead a life of the mind. Your mother is terrific. She’s the first person I’ve met who understands you can want both at the same time.”
Pandora stopped to look in a store window. She was afraid she’d said too much. Harley was easy to talk to, but she didn’t want to bore him. She needed to turn the conversation back to him.
“What about you? What makes you happy?” she inquired.
Harley took off his hat and wiped his forehead.
“I love plays and the theater, but I also love nature. That’s why I love Princeton. I can spend all day at the Triangle Club hashing out a script and then take a walk or go rowing on Lake Carnegie.” He put his hat back on. “I like games—charades and croquet. My brothers were much older than me, but my sister, Annie, and I were very close. She’s in San Francisco. I wish I could visit her and her children more often. I count my mother as a friend as well. When I’m at school, we often meet for lunch in New York.”
Pandora was enjoying talking to Harley so much she almost forgot about Adele’s birthday present.
“Then we’d better find her a gift,” she said, stopping in front of a dress shop. “Why don’t we go inside and look around.”
They didn’t find anything at the dress shop. Adele probably bought her clothes at Lord & Taylor, and Pandora didn’t know her style. A florist delivered flowers to Blythdale every week. And it didn’t seem right for Harley to buy his mother jewelry.
A stationery store stood on the corner. Pandora went inside.
She moved past the table of glass paperweights and silver letter openers and a rack of notecards with embossed envelopes. Pandora pulled a burgundy leather notebook with lined pages from a shelf.
“This is perfect.” She handed it to Harley.
“A notebook?”
“Usually when a man gives a present, it’s a reflection of himself. A dress so his wife looks more elegant than the other women at a dinner party, a piece of jewelry to show off his wealth. Perfume is lovely, but often the saleswoman suggests a scent the man likes himself.
“Women should have those things, but they can buy them for themselves.” She warmed to her theme. “A notebook to write down her private thoughts is different. You’d be giving it to her for her own enjoyment. She’ll keep it locked in her drawer; you’ll never see it again.”
Harley’s eyes lit up. Pandora could tell that he was impressed.