The Dollhouse(75)

Mother stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “A waitress? In a jazz club?”

“It’s what I came here for, right? To broaden my horizons.”

“And this Esme, is she a student at the Gibbs school as well?” The syllables of Esme’s name dripped off Mother’s tongue as if they tasted foul.

“No.”

“And where did you meet her?”

“She works at the Barbizon. As a maid.”

Mother pushed her plate away and sat back, arms crossed. “Oh, Darby.”

“You’d like her, I’m sure, if you gave her a chance. She’s a lovely girl, Mother. Smart and very talented. She’s going to be a famous actress and singer someday.” The words sounded crazy to Darby’s own ears as she spoke them aloud. She took a deep calming breath and began again. “And I have another friend, too, who’s offered to help me. Charlotte is traveling right now, but she said she’d get me an interview with a publishing company when she returns. No matter what, I’ll be okay. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you sent me here to live. At first I was so nervous, but now I love it. I don’t want to go back.”

“You cannot stay here unchaperoned. And I can no longer afford the Barbizon hotel, obviously.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“Esme and I are going to get an apartment together.”

“You do realize that you sound like a madwoman, don’t you? Do you think you’re that special? Do you realize how many girls come to New York hoping to make it big, then fall on hard times and are ruined?”

Darby flinched. “I assure you I won’t be ruined. This isn’t Defiance, and I’m not an innocent girl anymore.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“Nothing, not that.” Well, not exactly that. “The idea of going to Katharine Gibbs was your dream, not mine. I’m not suited to it.”

“So you’ll work as a waitress instead? Very nice. Your father would be thrilled.” Mother pressed one delicate hand to each temple and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“What about publishing?” Darby offered. “That’s a respectable career for a girl like me.”

“Oh, please. You don’t have what it takes.”

Maybe Mother was right. Darby had never held a real job. What did she know about supporting herself?

Mother’s eyes grew watery and she searched in her purse for a handkerchief. “When your father died, I thought we might end up begging for help. He left me nothing but his insurance policy, with the instructions that it all go to you.” As she dabbed at her tears, her mascara smudged in the half-moons underneath her eyes. Darby took the handkerchief out of her hand and gently wiped the makeup away, knowing Mother would be horrified to be seen in public looking messy. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I really am. I’ve disappointed you.”

“I suppose I’m partially responsible. I’ve kept you safe, maybe too much so. But you aren’t equipped to go it on your own, not yet. That’s why I did everything I could to make this work for you. Tuition, new clothes, a train ticket, a room at the best women’s residence in town. A girl like you needs protection from the real world.”

“I know you meant well, and I tried to do the right thing, I swear. But in the end, the life you wanted for me seemed more stifling than safe.”

“You have no idea what stifling feels like.” Mother’s words were acid. “And now every penny gone. What a waste. I never imagined you’d associate with the staff. A maid, for God’s sake.”

“I will pay you back.”

“All I wanted was for you to be independent. To be your own woman. But not like this. Mr. Saunders will be very unhappy, I assure you.”

“But don’t you see, we want the same thing. I also want to be able to be independent, to take care of myself. Being a secretary isn’t the only way to go about that. Upstairs, there are hundreds of girls, approaching the world in different ways. Your way isn’t the only one.”

“I don’t care what the other girls are doing. I won’t have my daughter working as a cocktail waitress.”

Neither of them had touched the food. Mother called for the waiter and left several crisp bills on the table, her hands shaking. “Now we will go upstairs and you will pack, and we’ll catch the next train home. You are done with New York City.”




“What on earth is this?”

Darby’s mother pulled out the satin dress Esme had given Darby from the small closet in her room.

“Something I picked up in the store.” Darby stifled the impulse to grab it out of her hands, to protect it.

Mother pinched the fabric between her finger and thumb. “Cheap. And shiny. Did you ever wear this out?”

“Just once.”

“Well, we’ll leave that one behind.” She tossed it on the floor. “Help me, please. Pick up the suitcase and open it up on the bed.”

Darby’s heart pounded in her chest, but she did as she was told. Her life had been about following orders, whether they were from Mother or Mr. Saunders. She’d done well in school, obeyed the rules, never asked uncomfortable questions.

“Daddy would have listened to me.” She spoke the words quietly, almost under her breath.