The Davenports(24)

“That is Mr. and Mrs. Weathers. She is most definitely telling him the latest gossip around town.”

Mr. Lawrence rubbed his chin. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” Olivia watched his well-manicured fingers smooth his mustache down. She turned back to the couple before her mind could imagine what the full lips below it would feel like . . . just as another face, and Washington DeWight’s smile and high cheekbones, slid into her thoughts. And as it did, she’d have bet her new hat that the name Davenport passed the lips of Mrs. Weathers. She opened her mouth to say as much, when Mr. Lawrence continued. “Just as I thought, she’s going over the plans of their diamond heist for the hundredth time. Can’t you see how tired he is of hearing about it? The poor man has the whole thing memorized.”

The twinkle that never seemed to leave Jacob Lawrence’s eyes brightened. For a moment, Olivia forgot her mother’s watchful gaze and the weight of onlookers’ glances. A laugh bubbled up at his absurd story. They carried on like this for several minutes, people-watching and inventing more elaborate stories as they picked at the sweet feast between them.

But as available players for their tales ran out, the silence between bites grew. Olivia cleared her throat, remembering her teachings. Men enjoyed talking about themselves. An attentive wife makes a strong marriage. She knew hardly anything about Mr. Lawrence’s life back in London. Sure, he spoke at length about the city and its attractions, but not what excited him. Or about his family.

This was the first time the two had been left in relative privacy. Her mother was just beyond earshot. There were no crowds of dancers or curious bystanders to hear their exchange. She examined his profile, chiseled jaw and brow. Every hair from his head to his mustache perfectly in place. From this angle, she could see a faint scar beneath his ear. His focus was on the little boys pushing wooden boats across the smooth surface of a reflecting pool.

“One last couple?” Mr. Lawrence asked. “Hopeless romantics.” He pointed to a Black couple a short distance away. Olivia felt her shoulders relax as she took in the confident and familiar stride of her friend. Spotting them too, Ruby veered off the pathway, Harrison Barton at her side. She was a splash of warmth and color in the muted spring hues around her. Her smile at Mr. Barton was playful, if guarded. They seemed to have enjoyed each other’s company at the Tremaine party, but Olivia knew Ruby to be as practical as she was impulsive.

“You may be partially correct,” she said to Mr. Lawrence.

A few onlookers tracked the couple’s progress but seemed to lose interest once Ruby collapsed at the edge of the picnic blanket. She removed her wide-brimmed hat, the same shade of mauve as her skirt and jacket. “I just need a few minutes in the shade,” Ruby said. “Mr. Jacob Lawrence, this is Mr. Harrison Barton.” She offered Olivia a wink and inspected the spread.

After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Barton sat, completing the group. “Nice to formally meet you,” he said, shaking Mr. Lawrence’s hand. Ruby popped grapes into her mouth as Mr. Barton gave a brief account of his relocation to Chicago. He referred to the South Side as a city-within-a-city and all the beauty and excitement it had to offer. He never took his eyes off Ruby, though. Olivia couldn’t help the smile on her face at how Ruby, always one for attention, let Mr. Barton’s words wash over her without comment or her usual preening.

“What brought you into the park?” Olivia asked.

Ruby looked to where her mother sat with Mrs. Davenport. “Mother is finalizing the plans for the big fundraiser in June.” Her eyes sparkled. “They’re grateful your parents have agreed to host it in place of their annual ball. It’s going to be fun.”

Olivia laughed. “I don’t know who’s more excited, your parents or mine. Or you.”

Ruby spread a thin layer of jam on a biscuit. “Just be glad they’re too busy to shadow our every move. Otherwise we’d be stuck up there right now.” She turned to Mr. Barton. “This gentleman was kind enough to take his lunch away from his desk to walk with me.”

“I’m also looking forward to the fundraiser,” said Mr. Barton. He beamed at Ruby’s smug grin. “It’s great what your father is trying to do for the community.” He finally took his eyes off Ruby to scan the people walking the paths, their gazes flicking away from his. He turned back to the group. “If there were more Black folk like us around, maybe people wouldn’t stare so much.” The finery of their small set, the luxury of spending a workday enjoying the weather instead of toiling away in a shop or mill—it was unusual.

Ruby cleared her throat. “Yes, Papa would be happy to have your support. And vote. Now, the fundraiser will be a masquerade”—she waggled her eyebrows—“with many of the same people who attended our party, in addition to political leaders.” She looked back toward the lake. “Both Black and white who share common goals.”

“Sounds like it will be quite the affair,” Mr. Lawrence said.

“It’ll be the highlight of the season.” Ruby gave Olivia a speaking glance and a small smile. “Many interesting things happen at the Davenports’ spring-into-summer ball.”

Olivia laughed. “You make it sound like a night at the theater!”

Ruby nodded. “Especially if you know where to stand.” Her giggle joined Olivia’s until she saw Mr. Barton glancing at his watch.