The Lobotomist's Wife(12)
“Well, here we are.” The opulence of their city mansion embarrassed Ruth more than ever these days. She knew that her father and his before him had worked hard for their fortune, but nevertheless she had difficulty reconciling their grand life when so many in the city around them still stood in breadlines, struggled to put food on the table, and shivered in cold rooms they couldn’t afford to heat. “Welcome to my home.” She looked shyly at her feet.
“I have to say, I thought the place would be larger.” Robert smiled as they walked up the stairway toward the intricate iron-framed entrance. Ruth gave him a playful slap on the arm with her glove, grateful for his good humor and complete acceptance of her. As they stepped through the heavy red-painted door onto the tuxedo marble floor of the double-height foyer, she greeted the butler with a warm and familiar embrace.
“Arnold, you’re looking well! Does that mean Mother isn’t working you quite so hard this holiday season?”
“Miss Ruth, you know Mrs. Emeraldine never asks for anything more than it is my duty to provide. She is quite generous with me and my family.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Arnold. I lived with her for twenty-five years, I know the truth.” She lifted her eyebrow mischievously and smiled as he took their coats. “How’s that new grandbaby of yours? Serena, right?”
“Just wonderful, Miss Ruth. A perfect angel. Thank you for asking.” He proudly produced a photograph from his inside coat pocket for her to admire.
“She’s beautiful. Congratulations,” Ruth said. “My manners! I haven’t introduced you yet to Dr. Robert Apter. I have a feeling you’ll be getting to know him fairly well.”
“Is that so? Well, I am pleased to meet you, Doctor. Miss Ruth is very special. I expect you to take good care of her.” He shook Robert’s hand and gave him the kind of admonishing look that would typically come from a concerned father.
“You can count on me.” Robert chuckled.
“Well, much as I would prefer to spend the evening chatting with you, Arnold, I’m sure Mother is already irritated that we’re late.” Ruth gave Arnold a loving squeeze and then grabbed hold of Robert’s arm, steering him to the right of the grand central staircase and into the living room.
“Ready?” She opened her large eyes even wider as she looked at Robert, silently offering him one last chance to escape.
“Utterly.”
Ruth cared about interior design about as much as she did fashion, and after Harry’s death, she had resented that her mother was trying to reinvent their home, to chase the memories of her brother from the corners where they hung like cobwebs. Now she appreciated the contemporary touches that mingled elegantly with the history of the place. Like the electric lights woven into the old chandeliers, Helen had managed to transform the Gramercy mansion into something fresh, while still retaining the sense of familiarity that made it feel like home. Her mother was careful to retain the original details that had been a hallmark of taste at the turn of the century—the leaded windows, the gilded balustrades on the imposing staircase, the intricately carved stone fireplaces that flanked each end of the great room, so large that Harry used to tease Ruth they would come alive and swallow her. But, wherever she could, Helen incorporated the fabrics, furniture, and colors that dominated the current world of international art and design. She had papered the walls in sumptuous teals and peacock blues and draped the windows in purple velvet and gold moiré. She had brought in some of the newer styles from Europe and New York—a pair of wooden chairs carved with the sinuous lines of art nouveau, a modern “fainting couch” upholstered in emerald green, a photograph by Alfred Stieglitz, and even a few bold abstract paintings from Picasso. From the look of the redone formal rooms, one might think that Helen Emeraldine had a modern view of the world. Unfortunately for Ruth, her mother’s open-mindedness did not extend beyond fashion and design. Helen never failed to point out what a disappointment Ruth was to the family as a spinster. Never mind that she was second-in-command at a major hospital.
Well, tonight, perhaps, Ruth could make her mother and her father just a little bit proud. Or maybe she was hoping for too much. As they rounded the double archway and entered the vast room, Ruth saw that Bernard and Helen were seated at the farthest seating area, near the rear fireplace, sipping cocktails in silence. The canapés sat on the table untouched.
“Ruth, darling, fashionably late as usual, I see.” Helen smiled as she turned to greet her daughter.
“Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet Dr. Robert Apter. Robert, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Emeraldine.”
“Dr. Apter.” Helen Emeraldine reached for Robert’s hand and shook it limply.
“Such a pleasure to meet you, madam.” Robert made a little theatrical bow as he kissed Helen’s hand, and Ruth saw a small smile escape her mother’s lips. “You have a breathtaking home, thank you so much for welcoming me here this evening. And, Mr. Emeraldine,” Robert addressed Bernard directly as he crossed the room to stand in front of his chair, “I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time.”
“Doctor.” Bernard did not stand and hardly even put out his hand to meet Robert’s vigorous shake. He quickly broke the contact and turned to his daughter. “Ruth”—he paused, eyeing her up and down—“you look nice this evening.”