FROM: Miss Violet Waverly, Boar’s Hill, Oxfordshire
TO: Miss Violet Waverly, Boar’s Hill, Oxfordshire
Tell Mama I am leaving for Boston soon STOP I have some business to take care of in New York first STOP
FROM: Miss Rose Waverly, ? Batterman & Co, Brooklyn, New York
Chapter 21
“TherearesomethingsI miss about the Upper West Side, and dress fittings arenotamongst them.”
Rose smirked as she met Abby’s gaze over her shoulder in the large mirror. “I never minded them,” Rose said, raising her arms higher while Mrs. Fuller pulled at the bodice of her dress.
“You’re too thin,” the woman said with a scowl. As a former tenant of 138 Willow, she had begrudgingly accepted Ben’s request to provide another dress from her shop, so Rose would be dressed appropriately for today’s luncheon with Mr. Ruffgate. “This would fit much better if you had a bust.”
“Ben doesn’t seem to mind,” Abby said, her lips twisted in a sly smile as she lounged across the newly cleaned sofa in her apartment.
Mrs. Fuller gasped and dropped her hands. “Ben?OurBen?”
“He’s notourBen,“ Abby retorted. “He’s Rose’s Ben!”
“He’s not anyone’s Ben!” Rose glared at her cousin. “Certainly not mine. And I apologize for the bustline. I should have worn my good stays.”
Mrs. Fuller grumbled and went back to work, tucking and pinning the seam under Rose’s arm. Rose shifted on her feet, grateful her heel had stopped aching. When she had gathered her belongings from Ben’s apartment, she found a parcel containing a new pair of boots in her size. They were flat-heeled, the footwear of a Brooklyn woman, but of quality leather, and the inside heels had additional padding stitched in.
Rose wanted to dismiss the gesture outright; Ben was always providing what his residents needed. Billy Middleton had a new baseball glove, and Mrs. Dunlap the fabric for a quilt for her grandson.
She could have explained away the gift had she not found the slippers tucked in behind the boots. Delicate, pale pink satin embroidered with darker pink flowers along the edges. Completely impractical and utterly decadent. She wondered how he had found them, how much money he had spent to buy her something beautiful.
And why he would give her these gifts and not want her company.
Dear Timothy,she thought,I have had suitors give me flowers, books, and candies, but never footwear. What does it mean?
Even though Timothy wouldn’t be replying to her mental telegrams, she wondered why he hadn’t replied to her last message to him either, assuring him she was well and he had no reason to be concerned. He must be having his own adventure, perhaps falling in love as well.
Good lord, wasshefalling in love?
“She’s cranky because she slept on the sofa last night, instead of in a warm, comfortable bed.” Abby broke off a piece of a massive cookie—she had been experimenting with a new recipe earlier and finally found a formulation she liked—and popped it in her mouth.
Rose held out the arm not being prodded, palm up, and Abby split the cookie in half and dropped it in her cousin’s hand. Rose took a large bite, hoping the rush of sugar would distract her from the lurch in her gut. “How fortunate Ben repaired your apartment so I could return. How fortunate you could salvage the carpets”
“Don’t change the subject,” Abby said, sitting up and pointing her finger—well, her cookie—at Rose. “Why aren’t you staying with Ben?”
“You were staying with Ben?” Mrs. Fuller asked with a gasp.
“Your ceiling was fixed, and he doesn’t want me there,” Rose replied. “And yes, I was staying there until Abby’s apartment was repaired. Mrs. Thurgood upstairs was pouring grease down the drain, so the ceiling collapsed.”
Mrs. Fullertsked.“She did that years ago, and I told her—”
“Wait,” Abby interrupted, fluttering her hands and flinging crumbs across the rug. “Mrs. Thurgood can wait. Hewantedyou to leave?”
Rose clenched her jaw, but it did nothing to tamp down the hurt spiraling out from the center of her chest, its lashes no less painful since she stormed out of Ben’s apartment the day before. “Our arrangement was only temporary.”
Abby raised one eyebrow. “The living arrangement or the sex?”
“Sex!” Mrs. Thurgood dropped her pincushion and clapped her hands to her cheeks.
“How did you know?” Rose squeaked.
