A-Splendid-Ruin(20)

He patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Here comes your cousin. I’ll leave the two of you to your gossip.”

I glanced toward the doorway to see Goldie, dressed in a green-striped shirtwaist and deep green skirt. She offered a cheek for her father to kiss, which he did before he whispered something to her and left the room. She meandered to the sideboard; when she came to the table, she had only toast and a few strips of bacon.

She looked tired. Not so fresh faced as usual. I could not help my curiosity, and given her talk about friends and how she’d confided in me about Mrs. Dennehy yesterday, I didn’t think she’d mind my questions.

“I’m surprised you’re still not abed, given how late you must have been out.”

Goldie sat across from me and poured a cup of coffee. “Late? I came home when you did, remember?”

“I meant after that.” I lowered my voice. “I saw you go out again later. Where did you go?”

Goldie lifted her brow. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I went to bed and didn’t move the entire night.”

“But I saw you—”

“You must have been dreaming.”

“You were wearing a dark coat and a hat, and—”

“Do we need to call a doctor?” My cousin peered at me as if she could not decide whether to be worried or amused. “Do I see—ah, yes, perhaps I do. Absolutely. Definite signs of lunacy.”

She laughed, teasing, and I smiled wanly. “Well, I—”

“Friends trust each other, don’t they, May?”

“I suppose they do.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I’ve never really had a friend.”

“Never? I don’t believe that.”

“Mama didn’t allow it.” My isolation and loneliness were hard things to admit. I had spent so much time trying to pretend that they didn’t exist, that I didn’t need the friendships I’d read about in novels, or that the people I watched from the windows didn’t inspire envy. I had rebelled now and again—what child didn’t?—but my mother’s anger and disappointment had not been worth it in the end, and it was easier to do as she asked. When she died, the hardest thing to face was the fact that now that I was free to do whatever I wanted, I had no friend to turn to. “The neighborhood where we lived wasn’t of our class. It was mostly immigrants. She didn’t like me to have anything to do with them.”

“You can’t mean it,” Goldie said.

“She meant well. She didn’t want me to tarnish my pedigree.” I laughed a little bitterly.

Slowly, Goldie put down her coffee. “Your pedigree? I thought—Papa said you were—”

“A bastard? Yes. I never knew my father. I still don’t. He could be William Vanderbilt, for all I know.”

“You don’t mean it. Really? Vanderbilt?”

Another difficult-to-make admission. But if I meant to have honesty from Goldie, I must offer mine in return. “Mama said he was from one of the oldest families in New York, and very rich.”

“She lied?”

“I don’t know. I think . . . well, honestly, I think she trusted him too well. She said that one day I would have the life I was born for. She made some kind of bargain with him. I never knew what it was. Whatever promise he made, he never kept, at least not that I know. We lived in a boardinghouse. Mama did piecework. I worked in a shop. I asked Mama a hundred questions. She would never answer them. She refused to tell me anything about him or her life before I was born, or her family. When she died, I gave him one last chance. I put the notice of her death in the newspaper. It was a waste of time and money. He never appeared or sent any word at all.”

Goldie stared at me as if I were telling her some incredible tale. “I had no idea. I suppose I should have known by your clothes. There are no trunks coming, are there?”

I shook my head.

“But your manners are so good and you speak so well, and—” She cut herself off. “Well, your mother sounds quite mad. Like mine. Perhaps it was all a fantasy.”

An easy explanation, but I shook my head. “No, I never saw that. I think he lied to her. She believed in him. She died believing in him. She never loved anyone else.”

“You really have no idea who your father was?” Goldie asked.

“None, and I’ve considered everyone. I used to study the pictures in the society pages and magazines to see if anyone had my nose, or my eyes. A hundred times, I imagined someone did, and I’d dream of it that night, and when I woke in the morning I’d see that I was fooling myself.”

“Well, you don’t need a father. Not when you have us.” Goldie jumped to her feet. “Starting right now, I appoint myself your official guide to a new life and to new friends. We will keep you so busy, you won’t have time to remember New York at all. Come now, stand up! First, we’ll go skating at the Pavilion—have you ever tried it? It’s fabulously difficult, but so much fun. The rink is right across the street from city hall. It’s the most beautiful building in San Francisco—Papa’s company built it. Then we’ll go to Golden Gate Park. We’ve already two suppers to attend this week. Do you like opera?”

“I—I don’t know.”