Mrs. Houdini(14)

In the corner, she found Dolores standing over a cardboard box with her hands on her face. “Mrs. Houdini,” she said. “These are ruined. We can’t serve them.”

Bess looked in the box at over a hundred tomatoes, half of them crushed.

“They were delivered to the back. There’s half a dozen other boxes out there, too.”

“You mean the deliveryman just left them there? Without getting a signature?” She was fuming. “I won’t pay for these!”

“You shouldn’t, ma’am,” Mamie cut in. “They’re tryin’ to put one over on you. They probably thought you wouldn’t come in today. Or wouldn’t notice if you did.”

Bess sat down and tried to think. It was unacceptable. She’d have to find another vendor. But the other vendors charged more. Either way, she’d be losing money.

She could hear the clatter of teacups, in the dining room, and the delighted claps from the customers as Billy went table to table doing his card tricks. He was one of the best in the world at cards, she told everyone. She had discovered him when he was a boy and convinced Harry to mentor him. She hated wasting too much time in the back. She had built this business as a way to get herself out of the house, a way to get back into society after a period of reclusion, and she liked being actively involved in its running. “I wouldn’t recommend it as a rest cure,” she had once joked to a reporter during an interview. “But it does keep a woman busy.”

“What do you say,” the man had asked her, “to the claim that you’re a regular Rosalind? A symbol of the age?”

Bess was charmed. “I would say,” she had replied, “that I wish I were as young as Rosalind.”

From the dining room, she heard a rush of commotion. “Oh, Jesus, are those reporters? They can’t come in here! Would you call the police, Dolores, please?”

Dolores stuck her head out the door, then closed it quickly. “It’s not reporters, Mrs. Houdini. It’s Lou Gehrig! He’s in the dining room!”

Bess jumped to her feet. “Lou’s here?”

“He had a helluva night last night,” she said. “He hit three consecutive home runs against the Tigers. The Yankees won eleven to nine. Everyone’s talking about it.”

Bess hurried into the dining room to find the baseball star dressed inconspicuously in summer-white slacks, signing autographs in the foyer. “Lou!” she called from the back of the crowd. She reached for his arm and led him away from the chaos, toward a corner table. “Is it just you today?”

He nodded. “I’m hungry for a cold sandwich. I was hoping not to attract any attention.” He held up a copy of Dodsworth. “Just planning to read.”

Bess laughed. “I heard you’re the talk of the town today. It’s going to be hard to read.”

“I heard we’re both the talk of the town.” He smiled grimly. “Don’t let those saps get you down, Bess.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“You haven’t been to any games lately. You know I’ve got a seat for you whenever you want it.”

“Thank you. You know . . . it’s not that I don’t want to come.” Bess lowered her eyes. He was such a good kid. She and Harry had first met Lou when he was just a nineteen-year-old college student with a strong arm, who loved magic. She’d known him for years, but she’d seen him only a handful of times, about town or in the tearoom, since Harry’s funeral. The truth was, after Harry died, she couldn’t bear going to games alone, and Lou’s new fame had put demands on him, a burden she understood too well.

“You and Harry were always kind to me,” Lou said, taking a sip of water. “There were times I thought, Well, this man’s advice is just as swell as my father’s. He always knew what to say about handling the press, good or bad. And I think he would tell you to ignore what’s going on now.”

Bess nodded. “I know you want some quiet. But it was good of you to come,” she said. “Really. I’ll send Billy over with a menu.” She caught sight of the young magician hovering eagerly in the kitchen doorway. She leaned toward him. “He idolizes you.”

Standing, Bess picked up an empty tray from the sideboard. She wrapped her hands around the cool metal and breathed a private sigh of relief. Word of Lou’s appearance today would certainly get around town; it would drum up some more business, for a time. She also hoped it would help keep the papers from condemning her.

She turned toward the kitchen to go back to the tomatoes, but not before she was blinded by a momentary flash of light. When the whiteness receded it seemed everything in front of her was magnified, the colors scattering like shards of glass. And behind her, a reflection glimmering in the silver of the serving tray, she could see Harry’s ghostly face, as if it had been flung across the room. He appeared like a haunting, his face veiled in shadows, his features misshapen. But then his eyes came into view, and everything else followed, and it was unmistakably him.

She turned around, dropping the tray. The metal clattered as it hit the floor and the colors righted themselves and the light and shadows were gone.

Billy rushed to her side. “Mrs. Houdini?”

“It was Harry!” she cried, incredulous.

He squinted at her. “What was Harry?”