Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(85)

Their future.

After they’d made their way back home and given her family a summary of their harrowing experience on the yacht—leaving out several details that came before and after—Astrid spent the day making preparations. Telephone calls and telegrams, secret conversations and whirlwind packing. And throughout it all, her frantic emotions vacillated between panic and excitement.

Please don’t let this be a mistake.

The following morning, she said her good-byes to Bo in private, and that was her demand: that he let her leave on her own, the way she arrived. She hugged everyone else good-bye outside the Magnusson house, nearly breaking down when she saw Greta’s stoic face soften. And after all her luggage was loaded onto the family’s silver Packard, she slipped into the front seat next to Aida.

“Do you remember teaching me how to drive in this car?” Astrid asked.

“Who could forget?” Aida answered with a grin as she started the engine. “We scared the living hell out of the entire household.”

Astrid smiled back at her and glanced at the line of people waving at them from the Queen Anne’s porch. “In a way, you’re helping me to do that again today.”

“Here’s to taking risks,” Aida said as she backed out of the long driveway.

It took them half an hour in traffic to drive to the train station, where Aida pulled up to the passenger drop-off area behind a dark limousine with whitewall tires. A slender woman with a straight black bob and a black fur coat stepped out from the backseat.

“Everyone here is a witness,” Aida said cheerfully as they met the woman on the sidewalk. “I dropped Astrid off at the train station.”

“You can say it with a clear conscience,” Hadley agreed as her uniformed driver hurried around to the Packard to transfer Astrid’s luggage between the two cars.

“It’s really not a lie,” Astrid said. “It’s an omission of pesky details.”

Aida waggled her eyebrows. “Every woman should have a few secrets.”

“Sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Hadley asked Astrid.

Astrid glanced up at early evening fog that rolled over the top of the train platform and considered the question, but she was sure. She’d already mailed the university her withdrawal. She was ready to enact her grand plan for the future . . . with a little help from her sisters-in-law.

“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” Astrid answered. “I’m ready.”

Aida hugged her firmly. “Okay, then. I’m going to head back. I’ll collect any mail that comes and telephone you tomorrow, but if you need anything—”

“I’ll be fine.”

Aida nodded and raised her chin to Hadley. “She’s all yours.”

“Let’s get you settled before it gets too dark,” the curator said, and put her arm around Astrid’s shoulders to lead her into the limousine.

It was, of course, absurd, to drive back the way they’d come, but Astrid didn’t care. She pretended that she was seeing the city for the first time and watched as lights twinkled on in the tall buildings lining the hilly streets. And by the time they got to Nob Hill, she really felt that it was new, because for the first time in her life, she’d be spending the night alone. No roommate, no servants, no family . . . no Bo. It was bittersweet, but the excitement she felt outweighed any lingering sadness or doubt.

Tendrils of evening fog clung to columns flanking the driveway of the French-Renaissance apartment building at Mason. The elegant nine-story high-rise was only a couple of years old and very exclusive—across the street from the Wicked Wenches’ building. Hadley had been living there when she met Lowe almost a year ago. And though Lowe had renovated a looming Victorian on Telegraph Hill for them and little Stella, Hadley hadn’t yet been able to sell her apartment.

“Everything’s been cleaned and dusted,” the curator informed her as they breezed through the small lobby. She introduced her to the attendant and the elevator operator, and once they’d ascended to the ninth floor with her luggage, unlocked the door.

It was a swank apartment. High walls. Marble floors. The windows looked out over the bright lights of the Fairmont Hotel and the steady clack of the cable cars braving the steep hill.

“What do you think?” Hadley asked. “Not bad for temporary accommodations.”

“It’s marvelous.”

“It can get lonely up here, but hopefully you won’t have time for that. The refrigerator is stocked, and anyone in the building will help you find your way around the neighborhood. Otherwise, you’re on your own—except for Friday night, that is. Maria and Mathilda have invited you for dinner at eight.”

“Oh good,” Astrid said. “I have a lot to tell them about that idol.”

“Well, I better get back home before anyone notices me missing. Here are the keys. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Astrid said, gripping her in a tight hug. “For everything.”

When Hadley pulled back, her cheeks were flushed. “It was nothing. We’re family,” Hadley said. “Besides, Aida’s right. A woman should have a few secrets. Do well with yours.”

“I’ll try,” Astrid promised her. “I’ll try my best.”

—