The title was The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield.
Virginia told Pandora that Katherine Mansfield was from New Zealand. She’d died two years ago from tuberculosis. She was only thirty-four and had been one of the most promising writers of her generation. Virginia Woolf proclaimed she was the only writer she was jealous of, and T.S. Eliot wrote a review calling her a “dangerous woman.”
“A man can’t say anything better about a woman that that.” Virginia smiled mischievously.
Pandora turned the book over.
“I don’t understand. She’s already published.”
“She led a fascinating life. She was married twice and had at least three female lovers. I’m going to publish her biography.”
Virginia’s publishing house would be called Riverview Press, and it would publish biographies of female poets and authors.
“Think how much readers will learn about being an abolitionist during the Civil War from reading about Harriet Beecher Stowe, and struggling poets will be shocked that Emily Dickinson wrote eighteen hundred poems but only ten were published during her lifetime,” Virginia said excitedly.
“What’s even better is that I’m going to hire young authors to write the biographies. Women like Dorothy West. Dorothy’s money from the writing contest ran out, and she has to work two jobs.”
Virginia took off her hat. She smiled triumphantly.
“It sounds expensive,” Pandora remarked. “Where will you set it up, and how will you pay the writers?”
“Wolfgang has an apartment in Morningside Heights. We’ll use his living room. And I already have a couple of investors.” Virginia’s eyes danced. “Not all the people at my salon are penniless artists. Wealthy women also attend, and they’re eager to support it.”
Pandora was impressed. It was a good idea.
“Wolfgang and I visited Dorothy West last week. She works nights as a hat check girl at the Cotton Club. You’ll never guess who we ran into. Porter Merrill! He was walking down Seventh Avenue, wearing some sort of velvet vest and trousers.”
A shiver ran down Pandora’s spine. She remembered the articles she’d read about homosexual bath houses in Harlem.
“Porter Merrill?” Pandora repeated. “Was he with anyone?”
“A couple of friends; his fiancée is away.” Virginia shrugged. “Porter really is good looking. I’m surprised he’s engaged to Doris; there must have been dozens of girls who were after him.”
Ever since Harley accused Pandora of being jealous of the boy at the bakery in Lake George, she’d been trying harder to trust Harley. But it seemed there was always someone to be nervous about. Once, she noticed Harley talking to the milk delivery boy. The boy leaned suggestively against the milk truck as Harley took the bottles from him. Another time at a restaurant, the waiter held Harley’s gaze a little too long. And there was the time that a male caller rang for Harley three times and wouldn’t give his name. It turned out that Harley was trying to surprise her with a bouquet of flowers, and the flower shop had called the house instead of his office. Pandora was so embarrassed that when the flowers arrived, she forgot to tip the delivery boy.
Pandora would go mad if she kept worrying. Harley had promised to be faithful.
“Porter will be off the market soon,” Pandora said to Virginia. “We received their wedding invitation. It’s in November at St. Trinity’s Church, with a reception at the Plaza.”
“Doris isn’t very attractive,” Virginia commented archly. “I suppose that’s the price men pay for a career in politics. I’ve never met a senator with a beautiful wife. The spotlight has to be on him all the time.”
“Since when are you hanging around senators?” Pandora smiled.
“I told you, all sorts of people attend my salons. You and Harley should come.”
“Harley is too busy. Whenever he’s in New York, he goes to banking dinners with Milton.”
“That’s funny, I saw him in Greenwich Village last week, getting into a taxi.” Virginia frowned. “Anyway, enough about me. I have something to show you.”
Pandora froze at Virginia’s words. She sat up straight on the bed.
Virginia brought out a wooden box from her handbag. Inside was the strangest-looking thing Pandora had ever seen. A see-through rubber cap, the length and width of a coffee cup.
“It’s a Dutch cap,” Virginia said. “I had it fitted by a doctor in New York. I couldn’t risk going to Dr. Bancroft. My mother would have found out.”
“What’s it for?” Pandora picked it up.
Virginia glanced at Pandora curiously.
“I forget how sheltered you are.” Virginia raised her eyebrows. “It’s to stop you from getting pregnant. Lots of women use them. There are even free birth control clinics in New York.” She paused. “You should get one. I’ll go with you if you like.”
Pandora set it down quickly. She was shocked; she had never heard of such a thing before.
“Why would I need it?” she demanded. “Harley and I want children.”
“You just got married; you want to enjoy yourself first,” Virginia said. “That’s what’s so wonderful. You can decide when to start a family instead of getting pregnant by accident.”
“Why do you have it? You said you’re not ready to make love.” Pandora folded her arms.
“Don’t you see, it gives me freedom,” Virginia commented. “Why should women risk pregnancy for a night of pleasure, while men can do whatever they please. It’s like getting my hair bobbed or not wearing a corset anymore. I don’t want to live with restrictions. It’s all part of being a modern woman.”
Pandora put the cap back in the box. For some reason, looking at it upset her. She was uncomfortable talking about sex, even with Virginia.
“I don’t agree,” she said defiantly. She stood up and walked to the window. “Anyway, it’s too late. Harley and I are having a baby.”
Virginia’s mouth dropped open. If Pandora weren’t so agitated, she would have laughed. It was almost impossible to shock Virginia. Virginia had always known everything before Pandora: how to flirt and how to wear makeup, even how to kiss. Virginia demonstrated with a pillow when they were fourteen. Pandora had been so afraid that Archie would walk in and laugh at them she took her pillow and practiced in the closet.
“You can’t be pregnant so soon. You’ve only been married three months,” Virginia exclaimed. “What did Harley say? And what about your plans to open a boutique?”
“He doesn’t know yet. I saw Dr. Bancroft today,” Pandora replied. “I’m still going to open a boutique, but I’ll put it off until after the baby is born.”
Pandora had already resolved that she wouldn’t give up her career goals. She would hire a baby nurse and later a nanny.
Suddenly her anger toward Virginia dissolved. Virginia had done nothing wrong. Pandora was anxious because of her situation.
“Harley will be thrilled—all men want to be immortal,” Virginia assured her.
“I hope so.” Pandora nodded.