A Fine Imitation (17 page)

“You're not going to let me share your cab? We're going to the same place,” he said.

Vera scooted over, and Hallan got in. He gave the address, and the cab started off down the street.

“I'm sorry if I caused offense,” he said under his breath.

“And yet you continue to find new and inventive ways to do so.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a flask. “Here.”

“I've had enough, thank you,” she said.

“Consider it my way of making amends.”

She took the flask and drank. The liquor was smooth and fragrant. “Better than the swill in the bar,” she said, passing the flask back.

“I thought so.” Hallan took a drink, then returned the flask to his pocket. “If I promise not to say anything to upset you, will you do one more thing with me?”

She regarded him from the corner of her eye. “I very much doubt that's a promise you can make good on.”

“You said it yourself. I can behave when I want to.”

“What is it you have in mind?”

He grinned. “I want to see the city.”

“Absolutely not. I'm not going anywhere but home this evening.”

The cab pulled up in front of the Angelus. Vera opened her purse, but Hallan slipped some money to the driver first. They stepped onto the sidewalk, and Hallan gestured at the top of the building. The enormous angel statues stood on the building's roof, announcing the grandeur of its residents to anyone passing on the street.

“There. I need to see what the city looks like from up there.” He turned to her. “Will you go up there with me? I'll be a perfect gentleman, I swear it.”

“You can go on your own. The doorman has a key, he'll take you up there. Though I doubt it's locked.”

“I'd like to go with you. Have you ever even been up there? Don't you want to see what it looks like?”

“It's not that far above my apartment. I can see from the window.”

“It must be different, with no walls or ceiling. Don't you think?”

Vera craned her neck back. The two angels they could see from where they stood were illuminated by spotlights and shone golden against the dark sky. He was right; she had never been to the roof. She dropped her gaze back to Hallan and pointed at him.

“If you say so much as one word out of line, I'm leaving.”

“That's fair.”

She looked up again as they walked to the entrance. “Well, we can't take the elevator. Someone might see us ride up together.”

“At this hour? Does it matter?”

“You never know.”

“Then we'll take the stairs.”

Vera looked at her feet. “Twenty flights of stairs in heels?”

“Take them off.”

“I'll ruin my stockings.”

He bit down on a smile. “You'll buy more.”

Vera paused. “You are the most stubborn man I've ever met.”

“Possibly.” He pushed the door open and allowed her to pass through. They turned left and walked into the dimly lit stairwell. She slid her shoes off and handed them to Hallan.

“The least you can do is carry them,” she said.

“The very least.” He gestured at the stairs. “After you.”

“Wait.” She stuck out her hand. “I need another drink if I'm going to go all the way up.”

He gave her the flask again. She drank, swallowed, took a deep breath, and then drank again.

“Ready?”

She nodded. They started up the stairs. She knew under normal circumstances her calves would have been burning within a few flights, as she so rarely walked any real distance. But the alcohol had a nice mellowing effect. Instead of pain, she only felt the alcohol's warmth.

At last they went through the door and onto the roof. A bracing blast of cool air hit Vera's face, and she gasped. The roof itself was nothing special, mostly odd gray squares of utility machinery grinding away. But the city beyond was a shining, glittering crush of gems. Electric lights beamed up into the night sky, casting a halo over the buildings standing sentry around the park below.

“It's marvelous.” She turned, but Hallan was not looking at the view. Instead, he had gone over to one of the angel statues and stood examining its face. She walked over to him. “Is this what you came to see?”

“All of it, really. Who did the statues?” he said.

She dropped her gaze. “I don't know. Someone my husband found. They were his idea.”

Hallan studied her. “Let's sit down.”

A few feet away, some wooden folding chairs had been set out, probably by workmen in the building who came up to the roof for repairs. Hallan and Vera sat, and they passed the flask again.

“Those lights,” he said. “I still can't believe those lights.”

Her head hummed with the liquor, and with the beauty of what lay before them. “Neither can I, really,” she said. “When I was a girl I don't think it was this bright. I don't remember it glowing like this.”

His brow furrowed. “I really don't mean to make you angry, you know. I want to get to know you. I want you to like me.”

She thought of several sharp retorts but held them back. “Plenty of people like you. Why are you so worried about me?”

“Because I like you.”

She let the words ring for a moment in her ears. “I meant what I said, Mr. Hallan. I'm married.”

He shook his head. “I don't mean anything like that. But talking to you in the museum…I enjoy talking to you. When you're being yourself. When I can see through the chink in the armor.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “You're certainly given to a romantic turn of phrase, aren't you? ‘Beautiful icicle.' ‘Chink in the armor.' ”

He smiled. “I'm just being honest.”

She patted his hand. “You've got plenty of admirers, you don't need me. What about Poppy?”

“Too bad about that. See, the thing is, I've never liked poppies. Daisies, maybe. But not poppies.”

“I see. You're in luck, though.”

“How's that?”

“Poppy isn't her real name.”

Hallan rested his elbows on his knees, eyes widening. “Is that so?”

“Yes, she—” A giggle escaped Vera's lips, and she struggled to keep a straight face. “She only calls herself that because—”

“You may as well tell me, you've gone this far.”

“Her real name is…Hildegard.”

He whistled. “God, that is bad.”

“Isn't it?” Vera laughed, and the sound echoed in her ears. Light, playful. Her throat nearly ached with it. She realized she had not laughed, really laughed, in such a long time. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and turned to Hallan, who watched her intently. His own cheerful expression had become more serious.

“Lit up and bright,” he said in a low voice. “That's how you always ought to be. Lit up by a thousand lights, like you are now.”

A few strands of hair had come loose from her chignon, and they danced in the breeze. She tucked them back before standing. “I believe it's time for me to retire. Good night, Mr. Hallan.”

He stayed in his chair and watched her walk to the stairs, calling “Good night” just before the door closed behind her.

It took Vera less time than she imagined it would to forgive Bea for upsetting her mother. In fact, once her mother had gone, the whole incident gave them both a good giggle. Bea had even reenacted the confrontation, taking the role of Vera's mother. She nailed the intonation and withering stare perfectly, as Vera pretended to grovel at her feet.

Bea drew herself up to her full height, sticking her nose into the air so far Vera couldn't see her eyes anymore. “Believe me, youuu do not concern meeee.” She collapsed on Vera's bed, a mess of laughter.

“That's pretty good,” Vera said, shifting from groveling back into a sitting position on the floor. “You'd think you'd known her all your life.”

“I have,” Bea said. “There are a dozen women like her in my mother's circle, and all of them look at me like I've been rolling in the mud.”

“She did have a good reason for visiting,” Vera said, unable to keep her news to herself for a second longer.

“Oh?”

Vera toyed with the hem of her skirt, her cheeks straining with the effort of holding in her smile. “It seems Arthur has had a word with my father.”

Bea sat up. “Is he…?”

“He's going to propose at Christmas,” Vera cried.

Bea shrieked and sprang off the bed, grabbing Vera in a hug. “You lucky thing. Are you going to accept? Of course you are, he's so rich. And handsome. Oh, you're terrible, how could you wait so long before telling me?”

“I think you're more excited than I am,” Vera said, trying to loosen Bea's grip on her arms.

“Then you need to get more excited. You're not going to wait until he asks to start planning, are you?”

The thought of planning reminded Vera of what her mother had said about leaving school for good after Christmas break. She decided not to mention it to Bea, in the slim hope that she could still get her mother to back down on that point. Besides, the news might dull Bea's enjoyment of the moment. Vera was grateful for Bea's enthusiasm, which helped to lessen her own emerging worries. Hearing her mother's reservations about Arthur at the lake had made Vera wonder if accepting him was the right decision after all. Still, she didn't think turning him down would be right, and what alternatives were there? Not Cliff, despite the fact that his most recent letter had asked when he might see Vera again and gave other hints that he did not think of her in the same friendly way she forced herself to think of him. He would never be an acceptable suitor in her mother's eyes, no matter how much Vera found herself growing to like him. So Vera had resolved to keep her letters cordial and chaste. But she did not stop writing him, nor did she mention Arthur.

“It wouldn't hurt to start thinking about the wedding,” Vera said. Bea launched into a list of dress shades, materials, and styles, as Vera stretched out on the rug and relished the glow of her friend's enthusiasm.

The next afternoon, Vera was in the library hunting for a book she needed for a report on the Spanish Golden Age. Someone had evidently put the book back in the wrong spot, as the librarian assured her it was not checked out, so Vera resigned herself to searching each row until she found it.

“There you are.” Bea appeared at the end of the row and bounded toward Vera. “I've been looking all over the building for you.”

“Shhh,” Vera said. “This is a library, you know.”

“Yes, and you're the only one in here. It's the weekend, you shouldn't be in this old tomb.”

Vera laughed. “I know this doesn't mean much to you, but I have work to do.”

“It's been ages since we did anything fun.” Bea slumped against the shelves.

“That's not true,” Vera said. “We went to that shop last weekend.”

“You know what I mean. Real fun. Yale boys.” Bea's eyes gleamed.

A wave of heat ran through Vera's stomach at the thought of seeing Cliff again. The idea thrilled her, but she knew her resolution to keep romance out of their relationship would be tougher to stick to if he were really there in front of her. Not just his blocky handwriting on a page, but his strong jaw, his wide shoulders, the waves of his auburn hair. That would be harder to resist. Still, she should tell him about Arthur, and she had been putting off telling him in her letters. Wouldn't that be the sort of news to give him face to face? She could explain better, tell him what he'd really meant to her. Then, Vera assured herself, they could say a proper good-bye, much better than some cold letter. She kept her composure as she answered Bea, despite the battlefield in her mind. “So this is a bid to get me to sneak out again? Because I don't think I need to tempt fate.”

“But I have a plan. And soon you'll be engaged. I've been thinking about it since yesterday, and I need to treat you to a grand finale of unmarried life.”

Vera knew what she ought to say, though her heart leapt, betraying her. Immediate agreement would make Bea suspicious. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Don't say that yet. Look at you, you're intrigued, I can see that you are.”

“Only about what your diabolical mind has come up with this time.”

Bea smiled. “It is a good plan. Don't you at least want to hear it?”

Vera sighed. “All right. I know you won't rest until you tell me.”

“You won't be disappointed.” Bea made a big show of clearing her throat. “I'm taking you to a Yale football game. For the whole weekend.”

“I repeat: absolutely not. We'd need letters from our parents, and you know my mother would never agree.”

“Let me worry about that. I'll get the letter. There's more than one way to skin a cat, you know.” Bea took a step toward Vera. “If I can get us letters, will you go?”

“But we'd need a car, a room…”

“I've thought of all that. Harry can drive us. And there's a girls' boardinghouse in town. It's for teachers, but my friend lives there. She said no one would care if we stayed one night.” Bea elbowed Vera. “I bet Cliff would like to see you again.”

Vera turned so Bea could not read her expression. Did she know about the letters, or was she just teasing? If she knew something, it was unlike Bea to be coy. Vera decided to play it safe. “I'm not going to be silly about some boy. Especially not now.”

“Then don't come for him. Come for me.” Bea took Vera's hands. “Please? Say you'll think about it. I swear your mother would never have to know. And you deserve to do your last year of college in style.”

“There's no way my mother would be involved?” Vera asked.

“Not at all. She'd never hear the first word about it. I can get letters, the dorm matron would never call her to question them. Plenty of girls go on weekend trips.”

Vera pursed her lips. “Fine. I'll think about it. But that's all. No promises. And I want to see these letters before we take it any further.”

Bea squealed and clapped. She ignored Vera's shushing and said, “You'll be glad we did this. I know you will.”

Though she didn't really believe Bea would be able to produce letters good enough to fool the dorm matron, Vera also had a little flicker of hope. Besides the opportunity to meet up with Cliff again, she'd never gotten to go to a football game, and she realized the days when that sort of thing might be possible were growing ever fewer. Everything shrunk before her: her remaining life at college, her days of taking chances, and her time to have any kind of relationship with Cliff, friendly or otherwise. Bea was right. Vera deserved a grand finale to all of it.