A Fine Imitation (19 page)

“Of course,” he said.

“I didn't expect to find you in. What time do you start work each day?”

“Usually after lunch. I don't work well in the mornings.” He sat against the back of the chair. “You sound concerned. Don't worry. You'll get your money's worth from me. Is that what you came for?”

“Ah, no.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “My mother has taken it into her head that we all need to go to Montauk together, and she wanted me to invite you.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes, I've been keeping her up to date about the mural project since we had the idea. She's curious about you.” Vera paused. “My mother has a great deal of influence in the city, and she doesn't like to feel she's been left out of any interesting developments, especially in my life. She likes to be…involved.”

“I see. This Montauk. It's a restaurant?”

Vera stared. “No, it's a town on the shore. My parents have a summer home there, we'll make a weekend of it. My parents, Arthur and me, and you.”

Hallan thought for a moment. “I'd love to meet your parents. And to see what a vacation looks like for the Bellingtons. Yes, wonderful. Tell your mother I'd love to go.”

“I really don't think you should go, Mr. Hallan. Don't you have work to do?”

“It will keep. No one's given me a deadline, have they?”

Vera pursed her lips. “But my mother…she's a formidable lady.”

He gestured to Vera. “She'd have to be.”

“Yes, well, I'm afraid you might not have…compatible spirits. A weekend can be longer than it seems.”

“I think I can handle it, thank you. Tell her I'd love to come. When do we leave?”

She hesitated. “Friday morning. But if you change your mind—”

He leaned in, eyes shining. “I won't.”

“Fine. I shouldn't impose anymore. I'm sure you have a lot of work to do.” She stood and took a deep breath. “I hope you understand that it's better not to mention our outings to my mother. The museum and dinner. I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea.”

He nodded and rose. “About the other night…surely you can stay a little while. We never got to speak.”

She looked out the window. “I'm sorry, I really can't stay.”

“Did you get my card? I came by, but your butler said you were ill.”

“I got your card. Thank you for calling.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, are you feeling better at least?”

She turned back to him and spoke slowly. “Yes. Much.”

He took a step toward her, but she walked past him.

“Shall I show myself out, then?” she asked.

“Of course not, I'll walk you out.”

She went to the door with Hallan in her wake. He opened the door, and she stepped through.

“Good day,” she said.

A wicked gleam appeared in his eye. “Tell your mother how much I'm looking forward to this weekend. What a treat, a few days at the shore.”

Without another word, Vera spun on her heel and went for the elevator, her mind buzzing with the many ways he could make trouble in a house with her mother and husband.

The following Friday at ten a.m. sharp, three gleaming cars pulled up to the front of the Angelus. As soon as Poppy heard about the trip, she had arranged to go with her two children to their cottage at Fort Pond Bay. Poor Julius was down with a cold and not able to travel. Walter and Caroline Litchfield had also decided to go with the group, along with their boys. Since Walter and Vera's father golfed together occasionally, Vera's father had invited them to stay at the house as well. Ida Bloomer had an opera board meeting she absolutely could not miss, so she had been unable to go, much to her dismay. Bessie Harper declined to join the party, concerned about the effect the sea air would have on her curls. Vera secretly wondered if Bessie was more worried about sand in her martini.

Vera climbed into the car with Arthur, grateful Poppy had insisted Hallan ride with her and the children. Three hours in the car with Hallan and Arthur together was really not the start the trip needed. The other two groups crowded into their cars, and the procession drifted through the city streets.

The height of the buildings descended as they moved out of the city. The sky seemed to Vera to grow brighter, the air cooler and more mobile, and even the weight on her shoulders lightened. Though she did not relish the thought of whatever troubles awaited her this weekend, she always loved going to the summer home and the feel of hot, white sand under her bare feet. There were plenty of distractions at the shore, and surely she could put distance between herself and Hallan where necessary. Once her mother had her fun dissecting him, she would move on to other prey, which again made Vera glad to have Poppy along. She would certainly do or say something that would prove a useful distraction.

They passed through the village, with its cozy inns and dance hall. Vera made a mental note to have one of the servants go to town to buy her a magazine. The only place she ever allowed herself to read fashion magazines was on the beach. At the edge of town, the land beside the road yielded to grassy fields, and then finally to white pebbled driveways that led to neighboring estates. Poppy's car would have turned off at Fort Pond Bay to go to her cottage, but they had to follow to drop the artist off at Abide Away. Despite Vera's protests, her mother had insisted Hallan stay with them. After all, she had been the one to issue the invitation.

At last, they drove up to a rustic-style wooden gate and down a long paved path. Before them, Abide Away rose up against the teal sky. The house's dark wood exterior had been weathered by the sea air, and square red brick chimneys rose high above the two-story building. Vera's parents waited in rocking chairs on the wraparound porch as she and Arthur stepped out into the crisp, salty air. The other cars pulled up, and their occupants exited as the house's staff raced to take luggage inside. The group ascended the stairs, and Vera's father and mother came forward. Hallan hesitated at the foot of the stairs, taking in the size of the house as the flurry of greetings took place on the porch.

“Vera, darling,” her mother said, taking Vera's hands. “I hope the drive wasn't too difficult.”

“Not at all, Mother. The traffic was lighter than usual, actually.”

Her mother nodded at Hallan, who had started up the steps. “I suppose that will be him, then. Hmm. Look at that hair. What an Irish spectacle.”

“Actually, he's English, Mother.” Vera said this with more confidence than she felt, though his accent seemed to make his origin clear enough. She held out an arm, and Hallan crossed to where they stood. “Mother, may I present Mr. Emil Hallan.”

“How do you do?” Vera's mother said.

He removed his hat and nodded. “Mrs. Longacre.”

Vera supposed Poppy had given him her parents' names in the car, as Vera realized she had neglected to do so. His propriety took her aback for a few seconds, and she stood silent while she tried to think of what to say next.

“So you're the artist?” Vera's mother continued.

He smiled and inclined his head. “I am.”

“Well.”

When her mother did not speak further, panic welled in Vera. She turned and waved to Poppy. “Please, do come here. Mother, may I present Poppy Hastings?”

Before Vera's mother could speak, Poppy quickly strode over, her short curls bouncing. “Oh, charmed,” Poppy trilled.

Vera's mother's mouth tightened into a small pucker. “How do you do?”

“And those are my children, over there.” She pointed briefly to two small girls in matching sailor dresses, then turned back to Vera's mother. “What a lovely home you have.”

“Yes, well, the outside, anyway,” Vera's mother said in a brisk tone.

“You know, I told Vera that Emil could stay with us, but she said you wouldn't hear of it. Now I see why.” Poppy's green eyes widened as she held out her arms to indicate the size of the house.

“Quite,” Vera's mother said, and turned to greet Arthur.

“Oh, your mother is lovely,” Poppy said under her breath.

“Isn't she?” Vera glanced at Poppy's car, where the driver stood by the door. “I would invite you in for tea, but I'm sure you want to get to your place and get settled before you return for dinner.”

“Yes. I guess we should, thank you.” Poppy shooed the little girls down the porch, calling good-byes over her shoulder.

Vera's mother walked back to where Vera stood. “Wherever did you find that woman?”

“I didn't find her, Julius Hastings did,” Vera said.

“I wonder on what saloon bar she was dancing at the time. ‘Charmed' indeed. Are we the only ones left with any manners at all?” Her mother raised her voice back to a normal level and addressed the party. “Let's all go inside, shall we? I'm sure you want to rest and refresh yourselves before tea.”

A team of maids in starched white aprons assembled in a row on the porch and led the way into the house. The foyer had a huge vaulted ceiling with a skylight on each side, and warm golden sunshine poured over the lacquered wood floors. On either side, doors led to the dining room and the drawing room, and a sliver of ocean and sand could be seen through the glass doors at the back. Beside the glass doors were the two hallways, one that led to the master suite, and the other to the suite Vera had occupied as a girl, both of which had access to the porch through French doors in the bedroom. Vera and Arthur would take Vera's childhood suite. Upstairs there were an additional four bedrooms, one of which would be Hallan's. The Litchfields and their boys would occupy the two on the other side of the house for more privacy.

A cold lunch of cheese, fruit, and pâté had been laid out on the table in Vera and Arthur's room under a glass dome, and a card noted that tea would be served at four in the drawing room. Arthur lay down on the small white bed to rest, while Vera changed out of her traveling clothes and into a linen dress. She wished Marguerite were with her, but she had given the girl the weekend off in a fit of generosity. Of course, she knew how to pin her own hair up in the most basic way, but Marguerite had an expert hand. Vera decided against brushing out the style the girl had set that morning, and simply added a silver barrette to the side. She dabbed a wet cloth against her neck, then touched up her powder. Refreshed, she rang the bell for one of the maids and gave instructions for unpacking. She still had a bit of time before tea, so she decided to go for a walk on the beach.

The party at Abide Away was clearly not the only group taking advantage of the last hint of fading summer. As Vera walked, she dodged people in gaily striped bathing costumes and giggling children throwing balls to one another. The sea beyond glinted and glittered in the early afternoon sun, and Vera slipped off her shoes and walked down to the edge to cool her feet. She closed her eyes as the water slipped over her toes, and she briefly entertained the idea of staying on the beach all day, all night, and never going back in to the scene that awaited her.

But her mother would be mortified if she did not return for tea, never mind if she attempted to camp on the beach all night, so Vera turned and walked back toward the house. Abide Away towered over the shoreline, a grim sentry keeping watch over the cheerful bathers under its nose.

Back in her rooms, she found Arthur still asleep. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Darling, are you going to tea, or would you like me to wake you for dinner?” she asked.

“Dinner.” He rolled over onto his side and pulled the thin blanket up to his ears.

She checked her hair in the mirror and repinned the strands the breeze had blown loose. After another quick dusting of powder on her nose, she went down to the drawing room.

Tea was not the event Vera was expecting. Like Arthur, Hallan and Walter had declined in favor of lunch and rest in their rooms. The Litchfield children were released to play on the lawn, so with only Vera, her mother, and Caroline present, the hour was not unlike the many Vera passed at the Angelus. Since her mother and Caroline were well acquainted, Vera did not have to take the lead. She sat back and watched the beach through the window, occasionally tuning in to what the other two said. Her ears perked up when her mother steered the conversation to the artist.