Empire Girls Read online

  Nell moved in for a closer look. “Yes, I see. The seams are tidy...the design is well thought out. I can arrange something with Cat. You two go meet with her, and I’ll call ahead. Impressive, Ms. Adams.”

  “Thank you,” I said, unused to any sort of compliment.

  Ivy took my wrist, and we moved toward the front doors.

  “Oh, Rose? Santino left this for you. I almost forgot.” She fished a white envelope out of a deep dress pocket.

  I took it. LADY ROSE ADAMS was printed across the white expanse in bold handwriting.

  “Oh, looky looky! Rose, what have you been up to?” asked Ivy, grabbing the envelope and beginning to open it.

  “It’s mine,” I said, taking it from her hands. I opened it as we wandered into the dining room.

  “Aren’t you going to read your letter?”

  “As we walk. That way I won’t have to look at the filth that surrounds us.”

  “You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, Rose.”

  We walked out into the stunning sunlight, and I was glad for a moment that I no longer had a high collar or laced-up boots. The day was already hot. Besides, the city was about to get much more interesting.

  * * *

  “It shouldn’t be very far. Viv even drew me a map,” said Ivy as I followed two steps behind her, opening my letter. She was rushing. Usually I’m the one ahead, with her lollygagging after me all transfixed with whatever beautiful, shiny new thing she saw.

  We’d only just left Empire House, so I wondered about where we could be going. We passed the throngs of people in the streets. Everyone seemed to stare at Ivy. There was a store on the corner, Gilda’s Sweet Shop, and I made a mental note to purchase a sweet for Claudia when I made a little bit of money. It would be a good bribe to get her reading.

  “So, what did you learn at the party last night?” I asked.

  “Not much...”

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  “The party was riotous! Even you might have enjoyed yourself. These people are so much fun.”

  “Did you ask about Asher?”

  “In a way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think we’re right. They’re all giving us the business, Rose. I just don’t know why. We need to tread carefully with these people. At least that’s what my gut’s telling me.”

  “Well, Papa always said we had to listen to instinct.”

  Ivy’s smile faded, and I was sorry I’d mentioned him.

  “I feel there are a lot of secrets hiding in that attic, though...” I said, trying to lift the mood. It worked.

  “Oh, yeah. There’s secrets a plenty at Empire House. And I’m gonna figure it all out. Starting with that note of yours!” she said, grabbing for it again, forgetting I was much taller. “Come on! What does that letter say? I’m dying!”

  “You’re tiresome,” I said, unfolding the paper and tucking the envelope into my wrist purse. It was a poem:

  I met a phantom on the stairs

  With flowing hair and lamp-lit eyes

  I’m glad I bounded up

  And captured that surprise

  I do so hope she’s not upset

  To cry with lamp-lit eyes.

  New friend, gladly welcome now

  A poem in disguise

  A flower under glass

  A set of lamp-lit eyes

  Come see me, phantom

  In my dreams

  On lakes and boats and corsets gone

  Through miles and miles of endless trees

  Through sorrow tides and windswept seas

  I’ll be where flowers cannot grow

  Meet me there, at dusk’s last stand

  Perhaps you’ll let me hold your hand.

  —The Poet

  “It’s a poem,” I said.

  Ivy was quick. She waited for me to lower my guard, and the paper, and then took it out of my shaking hands, reading it as we stood on the street. I didn’t even try to get it back, such was my surprise at its intimacy, and my reaction to it. Like a hot poker in my abdomen. Who was this Santino fellow, thinking he could write such things to me? And what was the longing inside of me that the words evoked?

  “Rose! It’s lovely. When did you meet him? Is this a real story? Was he on the stairs?”

  “Be quiet,” I said. “It’s not your business, really. And he’s a brute to have written such things.”

  “I’d die happy to have words like this written to me. He’s handsome, you know. Might not be so bad, having an Italian Lover.”

  I grabbed the note from her and walked briskly past. “That’s a horrendous thing to say,” I said, but folded the paper up and put it in my purse, as well.

  “And where do you think you’re going, sister? I’m the one who knows the way....”

  She walked ahead of me again and continued to tease me.

  He could corrupt you!

  You could have an illicit affair!

  Maybe you’ll go back to Italy and have a boatload of dark-haired babies.

  I was relieved when she started to take a sharp left down a dark alleyway. But then paused before turning, like it was a gaping mouth ready to eat us. There were broken bricks at my feet that almost looked like teeth.

  As if she read my mind, she said, “Come on, nothing is going to eat you.”

  “I’m fine!” I yelled after her. “Just adjusting this hateful dress.”

  I wouldn’t let her know I was afraid. I was the caretaker not the coward.

  I made sure I had my straightest back and walked into the mouth of Manhattan.

  The shop was in the alley itself. Almost like a magical door to another world.

  A beautiful ornate sign that read Cat’s Dress Emporium with gold letters on a deep green background hung next to the large windows filled with the most colorful dresses I’d ever seen. And they looked expensive. Too fine for our budget.

  “It’s closed,” I said, pointing at the sign on one of the double glass doors of the entrance.

  “Closed for another half hour, but open for us,” Ivy said as she opened the doors. The smell that wafted out was spicy, orange, rose. Heady and confusing.

  A bell sounded as we entered.

  It was cool inside the shop.

  “Do you think Papa would be proud? Look at us, not a full day in the city, and we have work and a place to live....” I said.

  I could tell by the way Ivy was fiddling with the hem of her sleeve that she didn’t want to entertain thoughts of our father at that very moment. Besides, a stunningly beautiful woman had walked out from behind a set of garnet curtains. I’d seen her the night before in the garden. It was as if she’d been holding court. Up close, though, she was even more beautiful. Not an ordinary beauty, either. It was the kind that startled you and brought you to another place in time. She was layered with mystery.

  “Ivy, so glad you could come,” she said, walking toward us. As she walked, her tall graceful body leaned backward, not straight up. It looked as if part of her was lunging at us. She held a cigarette in a long holder in one hand that swayed back and forth as she walked.

  I’d never seen anything like her. And I couldn’t decide if I was intimidated or interested.

  Ivy met her, and they kissed each other on the cheeks.

  “Rose,” she said, “this is Madame Cat. Cat, this is my sister, Rose. She’s the seamstress. She sewed the dress she has on while she was cooped up in our room last night.”

  “Wonderful,” said Cat, spreading the word out for many more syllables than was necessary, as she looked me up and down.

  “You look like someone I knew a long time ago,” she said. “Do people often say that to you? Have you grown bored with it?”

&n
bsp; “No. Not at all. It’s helpful, really. You see, we are looking for our brother, Asher Adams. Could that be the person you think I resemble?”

  “I don’t think so. I’d remember a name like Asher.”

  “Our father was Everett Adams. Do you happen to remember him?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “You have style, Rose. And I think I like you, so don’t push me any further. You’ve asked your question and I’ve answered it.”

  I looked at the interior of the shop as I mulled over whether Cat had lied to me.

  Soon, Ivy and I would have to discuss a less-direct way of finding Asher. These women sure knew how to shut down conversations with a wave of their pretty hands. What were they hiding? I found myself agreeing with Ivy. We did need to be more careful in our approach.

  Cat’s shop was as beautiful and exotic as its owner. Chandeliers hung everywhere, all different shapes and sizes, and the way they threw the easy light against the walls was magical. A million little prisms.

  The dresses lined the walls and were also displayed on mannequins throughout the long, narrow shop. There was a long oak counter with a glass top that held gloves and jewelry.

  Cat saw my interest.

  “It’s obvious you can sew. This dress is charming. Are you looking for employment?”

  “I think I may have just gotten a job at Empire House.”

  “Yes, I know. Nell phoned ahead. But I can offer you sewing work. You can sew clothing when you’re not the new housekeeper. How does that sound?”

  “How much do you pay?”

  Cat let out a hearty laugh. Ivy giggled, too, and then Cat offered her a cigarette from a golden case. Who was this woman?

  She turned to offer one to me but I put up my hand. I wouldn’t start sinking so quickly. Ivy had always been weak when it came to danger. I was strong.

  “How much do you require?” she asked, and for the first time I could hear a soft lilt in her voice. One that gave away her origins. I had a feeling that Cat LeGrand may not have come from Grand Stock. Her words were carefully chosen to cover up a less-than-stellar education. But it was only a guess.

  “Ten dollars a week,” I said.

  “You are interesting, Rose,” she said, circling me. “Refined, insecure...hardworking. Determined, yet not too aggressive, a good judge of character.” She stopped to take a long puff of her cigarette.

  “You will alter clothing and replicate patterns for new clothing in the store. I will have all the fabric and notions dropped off. When you are done with what I’ve sent, you will bring the garments back here, and I’ll pay you. How does that sound?”

  “If I finish quickly, will I earn a bonus?”

  “I don’t like rushed work, but if it’s fine sewing, your bonus is more work and quick payment.”

  “If I sew you original garments, will you pay me a commission?”

  Cat laughed. “You are a businesswoman, too, I see. Of course, but only if they sell. And you’d have to provide the fabric yourself.”

  “You have yourself a seamstress,” I said.

  “Wonderful. Now, seeing as you’re here, you can take your first pile of rags yourself. Usually Jimmy will bring you things, or I’ll send you back with things when you come to collect your pay. Go into the back and gather the alterations I left there. The shop opens in twenty minutes.”

  Ivy stood up then, and with her best come-hither voice asked, “What would you like from me?” Then she proceeded to extol her virtues. I agreed with “I can act,” but when she got to “I’m a hard worker,” I had to stifle my own laugh.

  Cat walked through a set of velvet curtains at the side of the shop.

  “Is the ridiculous little bluebird going to follow me or not?” asked Cat. Then she turned back to me, flashing a bright smile, and clinked her beaded earrings together. “Oh, Rose?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do tell me how your search goes for that brother of yours. I enjoy a mystery.”

  They left together, and I knew they were walking down a staircase, hidden from view, because of the echo of their footfalls.

  I gathered the garments and patterns slowly, because I didn’t know if I was to stay and wait for Ivy, or if I was to leave.

  When Cat came back up to the store there were people clamoring to come inside already. Cat’s Dress Emporium seemed to be quite popular.

  “I have a busy day ahead of me, Rose. So you must go...but before you do, let me just say that I don’t think you know how talented you are. And also, I think it’s very brave...the way you are handling all of this...how shall I say...new,” she said. “I don’t like a lot of people, Rose. But I like you, so I’m gonna give you a little tip.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you ask questions, it’s important to make sure you will be satisfied with the answer you may get.”

  “Well, I’d be happy with a straight answer,” I said, shocking myself with my bold behavior. But for some reason, I liked her, Cat. I liked her a lot.

  “If you’re determined, you might just get one. Be prepared, is all I’m saying. And one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I heard what you were saying to Ivy when you both came into the shop. And I think any father would be proud of two young women with such moxie.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Cat walked toward me and pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Those eyes,” she said. I could tell she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  “When should I expect Ivy?” I asked.

  “Ivy will be working late into the night, kitten,” she said.

  I didn’t want to know what that meant, but I had my suspicions. Cat must be running a speakeasy in the basement. Father told us about such establishments, especially in larger cities...but to think of Ivy working in one made my skin crawl.

  “I’ll be making ten dollars a week,” I said to myself over and over again as I made my way back to Empire House alone. And though I thought I’d get lost...I knew the way back by heart already.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ivy

  I’D NEVER WANTED something as badly as I did a job at Cat’s. I tried to hide my desire, dulling my eyes, turning the edges of my mouth down—anything to not appear desperate, anything to keep her from getting a leg up.

  Who was I kidding? She had more than a leg—she had legs, arms, that long elegant neck and crown of white-blond hair. Her superiority shimmered around her, a phosphorus glow most visible at night.

  What really took the cake was how quickly Cat hired Rose. My sister slid into Cat’s glittery life like she was the trusted seamstress to the queen, while in the end, I had to beg for a job. Mr. Lawrence had been straight with us about the tenuous nature of our financial situation, and though practicality was not my strong suit, the city offered so much to those with a few dollars in their pockets and so little to those without. Living cost money. Maybe someday I’d give the Barrymores a little stiff competition, but I had yet to visit the theater district much less take it by storm. The farthest I’d gotten was peering into the dusty window of the Revolutionary Theater next door to Empire House. I’d sneaked past a sleeping Rose in search of a newspaper stand to buy cigs, and was again distracted by the sign calling for actresses. Even at the early hour, people were inside. Three men and a woman sat on a rug in front of a small stage, eating garbanzo beans out of a shallow bowl placed between them, conversing intently. A knock on the window startled me, and a realized a woman was swabbing the dirty windows with a rag. She was a sweet-faced, sentimental blonde, the kind whose photograph ad men slapped on canisters of oatmeal. Her dress was black and cut in a bohemian style, with lace at the collarbones. The girl smiled and gestured for me to come in. “Don’t be shy,” she sai
d, holding the door open. I stepped inside. The theater was cool, much cooler than the street, though it was only half-underground.

  “Are you an actress?” I asked her. I don’t even know why I asked it—all I had to do was take one look at her lovely face. Of course she was.

  “Sometimes, but mostly I sew costumes and clean up around here. I’m Natasha.”

  Natasha? More like Mary or Betty or Sue Ann, I thought. “I’m Ivy.”

  “Are you an actress?” she asked. “I’ll tell Bertrand, the director. He’s always looking for new voices.”

  I glanced over at the stage, bare and waiting, and the small group of sophisticates sitting in front of it, and shook my head. “No. I was just curious. You have a lovely theater here.” The words came out too stiff and formal. What was I doing? I gave her a shaky smile and backed out onto MacDougal, my body trembling. Why didn’t I say yes? I had no trouble auditioning back in Forest Grove. But this was different somehow, and I didn’t want to think if the difference was in the venue or in me.

  “I told you to stay away from the communists,” a man’s voice said. I whirled around to see Jimmy, parked curbside, giving him a front-row seat for my humiliation. He had the windows open, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips. I should have noticed him, but then Jimmy seemed to blend into the background with ease. I’d stayed at the party very, very late the night before, but I hadn’t seen Jimmy after our interlude in the kitchen. Then, as I was about to stumble up the back steps, he appeared in the garden, smoking and sipping an orange blossom as though the New York night had dreamed him up. Had he spent the entire evening in the washing room with Viv? Had he gone off in search of other temptations? I had no idea.

  Through sheer force of will I managed to look him in the eye. “I thought you said they were anarchists.”

  “Same difference.” He spat ciggy butt on the street. “That’s not the job for you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Have you got one lined up?”

  “I saw you talking to Cat last night. Play your cards right and she can be a real friend. And Cat’s always got opportunities for her friends to make a buck.” He laughed when he saw the look on my face. “Not that way. That’s not what I meant at all.”