Mrs. Houdini(52)

And she loved the crowds; she loved the soft smells of the perfumes and the long carpeted avenues between displays. But tonight they had been invited to Sherry’s for a party given by the insurance magnate James Hazen Hyde, and she had convinced Harry to give up his work for a few hours. She heard the restaurant had been transformed into a royal French garden for the occasion, with real grass on the floor. And she wanted to surprise Harry with a new dress, one with the scandalously low Gibson girl neckline coming into style.

She found Harry at his desk at home after she had dressed for dinner; he was scribbling furiously in a notebook.

When he saw her in her diamond earrings, a glass of wine in her hand, he stopped writing. “Dear, I don’t think I’m up for dinner tonight. I’m exhausted.”

Bess’s heart sank; he didn’t even mention the dress, how beautiful she looked in it. “That just means you want time to work on your tricks. Instead of spending time with me.” A wave of despair came over her. Didn’t he see how integral she was to his success? She fielded the questions from reporters so he didn’t have to. She sewed his clothes when he ripped them and ran him a bath when his muscles ached from so many rehearsals. His accomplishments in the prison were hers as well as his; she deserved to celebrate with him. And to cancel at the last minute when the hosts had gone to such lengths for the party would be insulting.

He snatched the wineglass from her. “I don’t want you drinking this stuff anymore. You never know what you’re saying when you drink.”

Bess grabbed the glass back, splashing some of the wine onto the carpet. “I know perfectly well what I’m saying. I’ve had one sip. You didn’t even want to come back to New York today until I made you. You hardly even see your mother anymore.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He stood up quickly, and Bess winced. She knew better than to imply any kind of disrespect toward his mother. But he only took a napkin from the table and knelt down on his knees to mop up the spill.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean that. I only meant that I’m lonely.”

“How can you be lonely?” Harry demanded, still blotting the stain. “You have everything you could have dreamed of. You’re a society woman now. You can go anywhere you like.”

Bess was quiet. “You know why I’m lonely,” she said finally.

Harry stopped cleaning but did not look up. “I can’t help you with that, Bess. We’re just not meant to have children.”

“We could adopt a child.”

“You have a dog.”

Bess scoffed. “A dog’s no substitute for a child.” Besides, even Carla, their Russian Pomeranian, was always left behind in New York under the care of the housekeeper when they traveled.

“Well, right now we can’t adopt. In a few years, when I’m more secure in my career, then we can talk about it. But you can’t drag a child around the world like this. It’s not fair.” He stood up. “I’m just very, very tired. And we have to pack our cases again tonight. We have to leave earlier than we planned for Atlantic City.”

Bess watched him turn away. “Is it because you’re afraid there’s something wrong with you?” she said. “That maybe you aren’t capable of making a child?” Harry stopped but didn’t turn around. Bess’s voice broke. “Or what if it’s me? Did you ever think about that? Did you ever think about what it would feel like to be a woman who can’t give her husband a baby? What use am I then? You have your work, but what do I have?”

Harry turned around. The hardness in his face had disappeared. He looked sad, and old for the first time in his life. “Bess,” he said. He took her in his arms and ran his fingers through the back of her hair. “You have me.”

“But I don’t have you. We’ve been invited to the most beautiful evening of the season, and you won’t go with me.”

Harry sighed. “You know how I feel about those parties. My head’s just too full of work right now to carry on a conversation about business or politics.”

Bess set her jaw to keep her lip from trembling. She would not let Harry ruin her night. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll go alone.”

She expected him to protest, but he only looked at her surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She picked up her handbag. She thought of the candlelit tables and the chairs garlanded with roses, waiting for her arrival. “I’m very sociable, you know. I can talk about politics all night.”



Young’s Million Dollar Pier had been open for only a few months, but it had become a sensation among tourists. Built as an arcade and amusement hall, it was not yet as famous as Steel Pier, but Harry had chosen it as the location for his jump because the closest jetty was over a hundred yards away. The millionaire John Young, who had built the pier, met them on their arrival and took them to survey the site. He had booked Harry to give a performance to attract attention to his new project. Harry would jump, handcuffed, into the ocean, free himself, and come ashore. The publicity from the jump would help sell tickets to his theater show, which would take place the following three nights in the pier’s theater.

Bess took a liking to Young immediately; he was a natural showman, like Harry. Everything about him was grand, down to his colorful neckties and his perfectly coiffed hair. Part of his charm was his careful attentiveness. He complimented Bess on her filigreed brooch, resting at the base of her neck. “The pier is almost two thousand feet long,” he explained. “But you don’t have to worry. It’s very sturdy; it was built with concrete. There’s a concert hall, a theater, and a telegraph station inside. We are finishing the aquarium right now. There will be sea creatures on display I guarantee you’ve never seen.”