The Lost Girl of Astor Street(14)

I brace myself for the blow that I’ve anticipated these last six months.

“I have asked Jane to marry me, and she has agreed. She wanted to be here when I told you, but I decided it would be best to tell you myself.”

Of course she wanted to be here. She wanted to look down her snub nose at me in her moment of victory. Even though I have expected the news, my mouth fills with a bitter taste, and it’s not just from the boiled Brussels sprouts.

Father smooths the tablecloth. He’s nervous. “I had hoped Tim and Gretchen could join us for dinner as well, but they had other commitments, so I had to tell your brother on the phone this afternoon.”

And how did my oldest brother feel when he heard Father is about to marry a woman who’s a year younger than himself? Maybe it’s different for men. Maybe Tim finds it admirable that Father can win a lady so young.

My stomach clenches like a fist.

Nick puts on the smile he uses when practicing being in a courtroom. “Congratulations, Pop. When’s the big day?”

A beat of silence. “June fourteenth.”

The words are a knife, and I suck in a breath. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m sorry, Piper. I know it’s hard.” Father’s gaze holds sympathy, and I wish that meant something to me. “With this short of notice, it was the only available date.”

The little girl inside me is stomping her feet, screaming herself hoarse. How dare you! she screams. How dare you get married on Mother’s birthday!

The dining room fills with the screech of my chair pushing back on the wood floor.

“Wait, Piper. I know how it devastated you to lose your mother.” Father’s voice has an urgency, and I think I’m getting a taste of what juries see when Timothy Sail Senior pleads his client’s case. “It destroyed me to lose Elsie. It’s why I never pursued remarriage, despite knowing she would have wanted you to grow up with a mother—”

“I have a mother.”

Father’s eyes are tender as he gazes at me. “Of course you do. I should have said ‘Mother would have wanted you to have a female to talk to.’”

“I have Joyce.”

“Who’s wonderful, and who has made our loss tolerable these last five years. But Jane is a modern woman of society. There are so many opportunities for young women these days, and she’ll be able to guide you through these years as you attend college and look for a husband.”

Nick snorts as he pushes his bite of steak through gravy. I’m too emotionally ravaged to spare him a nasty look, but Father sends him one before turning back to me.

“I’m sorry the timing has worked out this way, Piper.”

As if this is completely out of his control.

I look away from him, keep my jaw locked. “May I be excused?”

Father hesitates. “Perhaps . . . Perhaps Jane and I could be married later in the summer. But the next available date is August ninth, and I just can’t bring myself to do that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Or rather, the damage has already been done. Just knowing that Father is willing to have the wedding on what would have been Mother’s birthday is what hurts.

“What’s August ninth?” Nick asks around the food in his mouth.

“The anniversary of Mother’s death,” I say when Father is silent. I look my father in the eye. “May I be excused?”

He rakes in a breath. “I know my remarrying would’ve been hard for you regardless. I’m just sorry I’ve made it harder.”

“I have poetry to read.”

“Fine. You’re excused.”

As I turn from the table, Joyce enters the dining room. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a telephone call for you, Piper.”

“You can take it in my office, honey.”

If Father expects a thank-you, he doesn’t get one. I drag myself to his office. I’m not in the mood to be happy for Lydia, to hear every detail of her conversation with Matthew. I just want to be alone in my room where I can think and cry.

In the graying light of the room, I flop onto Father’s office chair and pull the candlestick phone onto my lap. “Hello, Lydia.”

There’s silence. “Piper”—not a female voice—“this is Dr. LeVine. I thought Lydia might be there. Is she not?”

“No, sir. She was here around five o’clock, but she didn’t stay long.”

“Oh.” And then again, but with a different note, “Oh. We thought she would dine with your family.”

So she’s getting her date, and I don’t even get the courtesy of being told that I’m the cover story? That’s just ducky. Regular Lydia wouldn’t do anything so dishonest, but this new Lydia who fancies herself in love? She’s probably dancing the night away at the Green Door Tavern.

“When did she leave?” Dr. LeVine’s voice is curt.

“I don’t remember. She didn’t stay terribly long.” I swallow. How can I salvage this? “I believe she was going to stop by the Barrows’. Perhaps she’s dining with them?”

Of course they’ll just say she isn’t, but really, if Lydia wants me to lie for her, she has to clue me in ahead of time.

“If you see her, please tell her we want her at home.”