The Davenports(91)
“I did, really. Everything has been so stressful with the campaign. They were always so busy, worried. I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Too busy and worried for you to tell them . . .” He worked his jaw before he spoke. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re still in love with John Davenport?”
Ruby recoiled as if struck. “How could you think that? Of course I’m not.”
“I never know where I stand with you, Ruby. I think I do, but then—” He threw his hands up. “Why can’t you just be honest with me? This scheming—” He turned to the dance floor, his back rigid, his face cold. “I don’t think you know what you want.”
“I do.”
“Do you? From where I stand, the only thing you want or care about is their approval. On their terms. There isn’t room for anyone else. Your bravado, all your talk about how you don’t care about anyone’s opinion—it’s a lie.” His voice dropped so only she could hear how it shook. “And now it’s one only you believe. You’re a coward, Ruby Tremaine.” He stepped back, his jaw as rigid as his spine.
She felt hot tears on her face. “Harrison, wait.” Her fingertips grazed his sleeve. The music drowned out her call. Her vision blurred. And just like that, he was gone.
CHAPTER 42
Amy-Rose
Amy-Rose placed her bowl into the sink with the dishes Hetty put to soak. Where has that girl gone? “Jessie, do you know where Hetty went?” Her stomach was full and her body ached. Days of preparation went into making sure everything for this fundraiser would be perfect. It was the social event of the summer and critical to Mr. Tremaine’s campaign. Amy-Rose kept herself busy all evening behind the scenes. She didn’t want to risk another spectacle. Oh, it was agony staying sequestered in the kitchen. She longed to see the finery, how the women’s hair was done up. The masks. It was better than flipping through a catalog.
“That girl run off as soon as the dessert was served.” Jessie shook her head. “I know that face.” She gave Amy-Rose a telling look. “I’m sure you can behave yourself long enough to take a peek.”
“A tiny one wouldn’t hurt.” She shrugged out of her apron and smoothed her hair down. The steam from all the cooking had her curls more unruly than usual. She opened the kitchen door to the sound of hundreds of voices mingling with the brassy notes of the band. It drew her closer, beckoning with the promise of Black excellence and opulence.
She was not disappointed. The scene was out of a painting. The sparkling beauty of it elicited a sigh. Hair was elaborately coiffed, complete with precious stones or fresh flowers. The pictures in the Sunday papers wouldn’t do any of them justice. She was proud of her work on the Davenport sisters. They shined like twin suns. Helen looked beautiful in a pale green sheath that slid off her shoulders, gathered around her bust, and cinched her waist, before falling like a column to her feet. It was a more modern style than what Olivia wore. The older Davenport girl wore a high-collared gown in ivory. The crystal beading around her throat and fluttering sleeves made her look angelic. Their hair she styled simply. A low chignon for Helen and a high French twist for Olivia. They appeared to be too deep in conversation to notice the way they commanded the attention of their guests.
Amy-Rose caught a glimpse of Mrs. Davis and made her way to where the older woman stood. “Good evening, Mrs. Davis.”
“Miss Shepherd,” she said. The older woman lowered her crystal-covered mask. “I was sorry to hear about Mr. Spencer’s barbershop.”
Amy-Rose remembered the pain of that news. Her dream was not unfolding as she planned, but it was still on track. “It was a terrible disappointment, yes, but I’ve found another location that will serve just fine.” Her chest puffed up with pride. She scanned the crowd for John’s broad shoulders and dimpled smile, the gaggle of girls who usually followed in his wake.
Surprisingly, he was not near the dance floor or the refreshments. His parents were missing too.
“Why, that is fantastic news!” Mrs. Davis said. “I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed myself.”
Amy-Rose brought her attention back to the widow.
Mrs. Davis laughed. “My dear, I’m a wealthy woman with no children and an eye for business. I thought to lure you into a joint venture with a trip to New York. Now that I think about it, it does make me sound like quite the villain.”
New York? Amy-Rose pivoted to the thrice-widowed woman beside her.
Mrs. Davis laughed again. “I am truly happy your fortune has turned for the better. Do keep me informed of your progress, yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good.” Mrs. Davis replaced her mask and disappeared onto the dance floor.
* * *
—
When Amy-Rose had her fill of the pageantry, she wandered outside to the bench at the edge of the garden. It was where John had first revealed his feelings for her. Their first kiss. She hadn’t felt so close to another person since her mother passed away. She had felt hope here, and thought tonight this spot might renew her resolve. She imagined coming here to steal romantic moments with John in the future, to revisit the memories this place held. With her eyes closed, she could almost hear him.