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The Life She Wanted: A Novel(42)

Author:Anita Abriel

All her misery returned. She couldn’t tell Virginia about what she had done. She was too ashamed, and there was nothing Virginia could do.

For a moment, Pandora wondered how her mother had felt when she discovered she was pregnant with Pandora. Was she happy, or did she feel that she was no longer in control of her life? Is that what it meant for women not to have choices? Once you were married, with children, your life wasn’t your own.

Pandora would never be like her mother. She was certain she’d love the baby more than anything.

Virginia stood up and hugged Pandora. She dropped the wooden box into her handbag. “You should get one of these after you have the baby. The way you and Harley are going at it, you’ll be having a baby every year.”

After Virginia left, Pandora sat at the dressing table and tried to convince herself that everything would work out. She had to put Archie and her guilt out of her mind. Archie already had his life planned, and the important thing was that Harley believed the baby was his. They had to make the marriage work.

It was the best thing for everyone.

A few hours later, Pandora waited for Harley in Blythdale’s living room. A pitcher of sidecars stood on the sideboard, along with a plate of deviled eggs.

Dr. Bancroft said Pandora could drink as much as she liked. All the fuss about alcohol being bad for the baby’s health was a result of doctors supporting prohibition. But tonight, she couldn’t afford to lose herself in the pleasant haze of cognac and triple sec and lemon juice. She had to be alert when she told Harley her news.

She heard the sound of footsteps, and Harley appeared in the hallway. She never tired of looking at him. He wore a pin-striped suit from his tailor in New York and one of his new trilby hats.

Pandora walked over and kissed him.

“Well, look at all this.” He whistled, taking in the chilled cocktail glasses and floral china plates. “Makes me wish I came home every night, instead of only on the weekends.”

“I’ve missed you,” Pandora said truthfully. “This week seemed to stretch on forever.”

“I’m starving,” Harley said as he bit into a deviled egg. “The only drawback of driving into New York instead of taking the train is I don’t get to relax and eat a sandwich. I ran into Archie at the station. He’s going to come over tomorrow for a game of croquet.”

Pandora wondered how it would feel to see Archie again, to tell him that she was pregnant. She couldn’t give away her secret.

She handed Harley a cocktail.

“That reminds me, Virginia was here,” she said cautiously. “She saw that friend of yours, Porter Merrill, in Harlem. I wondered if you’d seen him since the wedding.”

For a moment, Harley didn’t move. Then he took the glass.

“New York is huge,” he answered. Pandora saw a flicker in his eyes “Why do you ask?”

“We received their wedding invitation, and I wondered if Porter knew what they wanted from the gift registry,” Pandora said hastily. “I can ask Doris, but if you were going to see him, it would save me a phone call.”

Harley seemed to believe her. His features relaxed.

“I thought women lived to be on the phone.” He sat on the sofa. “Let’s talk about something more interesting. I want to see the paint swatches for Summerhill.”

Harley really was a good husband. Other men wouldn’t be interested in the new house until they moved in.

“The reception rooms have all been painted,” she said eagerly. “The most beautiful shade of topaz.”

She adored the color that the interior designer recommended. It reminded her of the showroom at Tiffany’s.

Pandora couldn’t put off telling him any longer. She twisted her wedding ring.

“I decided we should furnish the nursery next, before we do the upstairs study or the gymnasium.”

Realization at what Pandora was saying set in. Harley turned white as a sheet. His body stiffened, and he placed his glass on the coffee table.

“A baby, so soon?” he stammered. His eyes were wide, and a sheen of perspiration formed on his forehead.

“I saw Dr. Bancroft today. The baby will be born in February.”

Pandora searched Harley’s face for some kind of doubt about the timing. She could only hope that he knew less about conception and having babies than she did.

He walked to the French doors leading to the balcony. His hand went to the doorknob, and Pandora was afraid he’d open the door and bolt across the lawn. Finally, he turned and walked to the sideboard. He poured a fresh drink, barely finishing it before he picked up the pitcher and poured another.

“I’m thrilled, of course. I just didn’t know it would happen so fast.” He sat beside her. “If it’s a boy, as soon as he’s born, we’ll put his name down for Princeton.”

Harley kept talking, as if the sound of his own voice was keeping away his panic.

“You can’t put off opening your boutique. We’ll get a baby nurse and a nanny.”

Pandora glanced at Harley. He was acting strangely. As if he was anxious to move the conversation away from himself.

Pandora nodded. “I already started looking at spaces in Hyde Park.”

Harley squeezed her hand. He put his arm around her and kissed her.

“Then I couldn’t be more delighted.” He gulped the sidecar. “I told you we’d have everything. A beautiful home and a family and each other.”

She stared at the almost empty pitcher and felt a pinprick of fear.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We’re going to be so happy.”

Chapter Fourteen

February 1928, Hyde Park, New York

Pandora was due in two weeks. She had given up wearing corsets months ago. Adele took her to Lane Bryant on West Thirty-Eighth Street, but even the maternity dresses were uncomfortable. Every month she grew bigger, until she couldn’t see her ankles and felt like she was going to burst.

In October, Pandora and Harley had moved into Summerhill. Pandora spent the first month wandering from room to room imagining a life there with her baby. As a wedding present, Adele commissioned the interior designer Ogden Codman to furnish the downstairs. Ogden had designed the Rockefeller mansion in Mount Pleasant and Edith Wharton’s Park Avenue townhouse.

Pandora couldn’t decide which room she loved most. The living room had hand-painted wallpaper and parquet floors and a blue-and-white patterned rug. She adored the music room with its Steinway piano and the dining room with its Regency-style pedestal dining table and russet-colored upholstered chairs. And the gardens in the fall had been spectacular. The maple tree outside her bedroom window turned a brilliant orange, and a whole patch of dogwood trees turned a dusky red purple.

Today she was going to have lunch with Millie in New York. She had seen Millie a few times since Millie took the secretarial job. On every visit, Pandora was more impressed. Millie should be running her own company instead of taking dictation and picking up William Corning’s dry cleaning. But Millie seemed happy. The last time she saw her, Millie couldn’t stop talking about the dollhouse she’d put on layaway at FAO Schwarz for her daughter and the baseball mitt she’d bought her son.

Pandora drove herself into New York. She and Harley didn’t have a chauffeur, and the train took too long. She had something important to tell Millie. If she didn’t tell her now, she might not see her until after the baby was born.

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