Pandora had been so hopeful that her plan would work. She supposed she could go home and sew a dress for Millie. But she was so busy with wedding planning, and she wanted to help Millie today.
Suddenly she had an idea. She unclipped her gold earrings. They had been a present from Harley, but Harley gave her gifts all the time. And she was certain she’d get them back.
“What if I gave you these earrings to keep until Millie pays for the dress?” She handed them to him.
Levi turned them over. He studied them carefully.
“I suppose that would work.”
Pandora was already scribbling her address on a piece of paper.
“You can return them to me here.” She handed it to him.
“All right, you have a deal.” Levi slipped the paper into his pocket. He smiled for the first time. “You’re a persuasive woman, Miss Carmichael. I’ll make sure Mrs. Grimes tries on our best dresses.”
Adele was still lying down in her room when Pandora returned to the townhouse. She picked up the telephone in the living room and dialed Virginia’s number.
“Pandora!” Virginia said when she answered. “You didn’t tell me you were in town.”
“I wondered if you’re free for dinner,” Pandora said. “Somewhere that Harley would approve of.”
Virginia’s light laugh came down the line.
“Don’t worry. I won’t corrupt you by taking you to a speakeasy,” Virginia promised. “We’ll go to Sardi’s. It’s in the Theater District, so there will be interesting people.”
Sardi’s was located in the basement of a brownstone on Forty-Fourth Street. When Pandora arrived, only a few diners were scattered at the tables. A short while later a play must have let out, because suddenly the interior was full of men carrying theater programs and women waving cigarette holders and hovering around the entry. It was so crowded that Pandora worried Virginia wouldn’t see her when she arrived.
“You shouldn’t let the waiter seat you in the back.” She heard Virginia’s voice ring out.
Pandora glanced up from the menu. She almost didn’t recognize Virginia. Her long, luxurious curls were gone, replaced by a sleek helmet of hair that stopped just below her chin.
“You got your hair bobbed!” Pandora said in shock.
Virginia pulled out a chair. “The hairdresser said I look exactly like Louise Brooks. He probably says that to all the women when they leave the salon.”
Virginia did resemble Louise Brooks. The short hair made her eyes seem larger and accentuated the curve of her neck.
“You’re prettier than Louise Brooks. But I can’t believe you cut your hair!” Pandora exclaimed. Pandora would never get a bob; she thought it would feel practically like walking around naked.
Virginia waved her hand dismissively.
“All the women in New York are doing it. Wolfgang and I went to Chumley’s the other night. F. Scott Fitzgerald was there with his wife, Zelda, whose hair is almost as short as a boy’s.”
“I heard there was a police raid on Chumley’s last week,” Pandora cut in. She didn’t want Virginia to get arrested.
Virginia smiled cheekily. She picked up a menu.
“Everyone who goes to Chumley’s knows the police enter from the Pamela Court entrance,” she proclaimed. “So the customers go out the Bedford Street door.”
Pandora was about to respond when a group of young men entered. One of them looked familiar. It was Preston Stevens, Harley’s playwright friend at Princeton. Another man followed him, and Pandora gasped. It was Harley. He wore a top hat with a silk scarf draped over his shoulders.
Harley caught Pandora’s eye, and he walked over to their table. He seemed even more shocked than Pandora.
“Pandora”—he leaned down and kissed her—“what are you doing here?”
Pandora didn’t know why she was so surprised. New York was only an hour from Princeton by train; Harley probably came to Manhattan all the time. But he never said anything about visiting New York when she was at Princeton. Seeing him here, unannounced, was unsettling.
“I came into New York with your mother,” she replied. “Virginia and I are having dinner.”
“I’m thrilled to see you.” Harley recovered himself. He waved at his friends. “We’re a large group; you have to join us.”
They followed Harley and joined his friends at a round table beside the window.
“This is much better. Last time I was at Sardi’s, this table was occupied by George Gershwin and his crowd,” Virginia said as she slid into a chair.
“Harley is a regular at Sardi’s,” Preston piped in. “He can get any table he likes.”
The color rose to Pandora’s cheeks. She told herself it was the rum in the fruit punch, but she knew better. Harley was acting differently than he did at Blythdale or even at Princeton. He passed around a gold cigarette case and had no problem ordering a second and third pitcher of punch. He was even dressed differently, in one of the new tuxedo jackets instead of the traditional tails.
“We saw the musical Castles in the Air,” Preston said. “The audience never stopped clapping.”
“It really was wonderful,” Harley enthused. “The costumes alone were worth the price of the ticket.”
“It’s the fifth musical we’ve seen this semester,” Preston said. “That’s all Broadway is about these days. Every show we see has more showgirls and more feathers.”
Pandora felt close to tears. She averted her gaze so Virginia wouldn’t notice. Pandora and Harley had grown so close; she thought she knew everything there was to know about him. Tonight, Harley seemed foreign to her. As if they were viewing each other from miles away instead of across a dinner table.
They talked on the phone almost daily. Why had he never mentioned that he saw plays in New York?
“Harley better bring you to my play in New York in the fall,” Preston said to Pandora.
“You have a show opening on Broadway?” Pandora asked in surprise.
“Didn’t Harley tell you?” Preston inquired. “It’s not Broadway, but it’s close enough. We just started rehearsals.”
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it,” Pandora said.
“I should hope not.” Preston reached for a bread roll. “After all, Harley is bankrolling the production.”
Harley’s skin turned pale, and he busied himself with cutting his steak.
Pandora looked at Harley, but he avoided making eye contact. She remained quiet through the rest of dinner. The others talked about the young new directors and the growing movie industry in Hollywood. After dinner, Virginia suggested they all go on to the Cotton Club. Pandora claimed she had a headache and said she’d go back to the townhouse.
She walked out to the sidewalk to find a taxi.
“Pandora, wait, I can explain.” Harley rushed out after her. Preston and the group waited a little farther down the block.
“You don’t have to explain anything,” Pandora said unsteadily.
Harley took her gloved hand and held it in his.
“I didn’t tell you I invested in Preston’s play because I didn’t want my father to know,” he admitted. “It’s only a little money from my trust. I’m hardly funding the whole production.”