“I can’t play tennis. I burn too easily without a hat.” Lillian addressed the group. “I discovered that last summer when we were in Portofino.” Her brow furrowed. “I hope the lessons don’t start next weekend. My parents want to invite your family to a house party at Beechtree Cottage. It will be the first house party we’ve given since we moved to Hyde Park.”
“We’d love to come.” Mabel turned to Lillian. “I can’t wait to see what your mother did with the interior.”
“It’s not as big as our place in Palm Beach, but it’s sweet,” Lillian said airily.
Pandora had heard Maude Van Luyen talking about Beechtree Cottage. It sat on twenty acres bordering the Hudson and had forty rooms plus an equestrian facility.
“Perhaps you can help Mother with the invitation list.” Lillian turned to Mabel. “It will be quite intimate, and she wants to invite the right people.”
“Why don’t we find your parents now?” Mabel suggested.
Lillian put her arm through Owen’s. “You must come and meet Daddy. He’s arranging a hunting trip to Georgia, and he wants you to come.”
Pandora waited for Owen to say something—that he couldn’t meet Leland Clarkson now; he was talking to Pandora. Or that Pandora must come to Beechtree Cottage as his guest.
Instead, Owen tucked Lillian’s arm under his.
“Do you mind if we finish our conversation later?” he asked Pandora. “Archie can show you around; he knows everyone here.”
Pandora gulped the last of her champagne.
“I don’t mind at all, in fact, I’m quite thirsty.” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. “I’m going to get another glass of champagne.”
She waited until they drifted off. Then she gathered the lace wrap around her shoulders and hurried past the gazebo, all the way down to the river.
Until the sounds of the party were a distant murmur, and she was completely alone.
Chapter Two
July 1926, Hyde Park, New York
It was colder next to the river than Pandora expected. The warmth of the party, the little plates of pig pastries, the candles flickering on tabletops were gone, and a cold breeze drifted onto the banks.
Pandora huddled on a bench. She was furious with herself for running away, but staying would have been worse. She couldn’t bear to see Lillian flouncing around with Owen as if they were already a couple. She needed time to refocus.
Had she been mistaken about Owen’s intentions? Over the last month, she had gotten her hopes up, imagining the moment when Owen would propose so often that it became as real to her as the moon shimmering on the river. She first got the notion a few weeks ago when Owen invited her to walk in the Van Luyens’ garden after a tennis lesson. Owen had needed a tennis partner, so Pandora’s father asked her to complete the foursome.
Owen and Pandora won every set, and afterward Archie brought out a pitcher of lemonade. Pandora was about to clean up the glasses and change her clothes before she helped Esther prepare dinner when Owen pulled her aside.
“Don’t go yet,” Owen suggested. “It’s the first warm day. Why don’t we walk by the river?”
Owen had always been friendly, but he had never asked to spend time with her alone. It was at moments like this that she missed having a mother to guide her. Pandora didn’t want to do anything improper. But it was the middle of the day, and anyone could see them from the house. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything wrong.
They strolled through Maude Van Luyen’s rose garden down to the dock. The sky was a pale blue, and the sun reflected off the grand mansions that lined the riverbank.
“You’re wonderful on the tennis court,” Owen said when they reached the shore.
“I got in a few lucky serves,” Pandora said with a shrug.
“I wasn’t talking about your tennis game exactly.” Owen turned to her. “It’s more about how you carry yourself. You have so much confidence.”
It was true, she was a confident player. She had practically grown up on a tennis court. But that wasn’t the way she wanted Owen to see her. She wanted him to think of her as someone special, a girl he wanted to spend more time with.
“I don’t want to be a tennis player; my dream is to be a fashion designer,” she replied. “I’ve always loved beautiful clothes.”
“I’m sure you’ll be good at that too.” Owen studied her appreciatively. “Archie said you were special. Now I see that he was right. I hope we get to know each other better this summer. Perhaps you can visit me at Princeton in the fall.”
Pandora was so taken aback she found it hard to swallow. She didn’t know much about men or dating, but Owen wouldn’t say something like this if he didn’t mean it.
“Yes, I’d like that,” she replied.
Owen smiled, and he had never looked so handsome. The sun caught the golden glints in his light brown hair, and his eyes radiated warmth.
“I’m glad that’s settled.” He nodded. “Perhaps we can do this again after our lesson next week.”
The tennis lesson the following week was canceled because Archie had an engagement, and Owen and Pandora didn’t meet up again. But she felt as if everything changed between them, and she had been sure Owen felt the same. But had Owen said those things only because he wanted help with his serve?
She couldn’t let herself believe that. Pandora was as pretty as the other girls at the party and just as intelligent. Even if she didn’t have Lillian’s father’s millions and hadn’t traveled to Italy and France, she had enough good qualities for Owen to be interested in her. Is this what her mother had felt before she left? That without a certain pedigree, she would never amount to anything?
If only Pandora could offer Owen something other than tennis lessons: a sailboat they could take on the river, a ride in a sporty car. Even if she could ask him to be her date at a dinner party, she might have a chance. But Pandora didn’t receive social invitations of her own. Pandora was only invited this weekend because Owen knew her through Archie and Virginia.
The lace wrap didn’t keep her warm, and she regretted spending so much time on it. No one cared that she had sewn the flowers with silver thread to make them twinkle under the lights. The women in the Winthrops’ social circle purchased their wardrobes in Paris and London. They weren’t interested in what the Van Luyens’ tennis instructor’s daughter wore.
Pandora had made her first dress when she was fifteen. She’d been clearing out a closet in her father’s bedroom and discovered a rack of her mother’s dresses. She and her father rarely talked about her mother, Laura, who had left when she was ten. Pandora’s memories of her were unclear, but she still missed her very much. She missed the way her mother had smelled when she gave Pandora a bath when she was small, and she missed the way her blond hair bounced at her shoulders. Once, Pandora heard a man on a bus comment that Pandora’s mother was very pretty. Pandora had only been nine, but she privately agreed. Her mother was the loveliest woman she knew.
Laura hadn’t been the kind of mother who spent time with Pandora when she was young. Her father did most of the parenting. Laura preferred working as a saleswoman at a department store, being surrounded by pretty clothes and makeup, instead of staying at home with Pandora. In the evenings, she often ate with other women in the store’s cafeteria, and Willie made soup or stew for him and Pandora.