Empire Girls (6 page)

At this point you’re most likely wishing the other sister had taken pen to paper. Well, Mr. Lawrence, you are decidedly out of luck. While our dear Rose is trying to catch her breath, I’ve decided to take charge and be the responsible type. Don’t you dare laugh. On second thought, go ahead. I bet you could use it—you don’t strike me as the type who goes through life har-har-har-ing away.

In closing, we intend to keep our promise to inform you of any developments, and expect you to do the same. Hopefully, more specific information will be forthcoming.

Sincerely,

Ivy Antoinette Adams

CHAPTER 5

Rose

AFTER IVY DASHED OFF
a quick letter to Mr. Lawrence telling him of our safe arrival, she took a few more books out of my trunk and searched our attic space for anything she could use as a bookshelf. She had yet to answer my question about Asher, but I knew she was thinking about it. I wanted to press the issue, but I also didn’t want to be a naysayer about everything. I decided it was something we could revisit, and instead apologized for being gruff with her new friends, Viv and Maude.

“I’m sorry if I was rude. I promise I’ll be nicer the first chance I get. It’s just... Ivy, there’s so many things happening all at once. I’m afraid this isn’t quite what I expected.”

“A little different than the way crowded city streets play out on the page?”

“Much,” I said.

She walked toward the window with my books. “Why not put some here, leaning on the windowsill between our beds?”

“The sun might fade the covers....”

She dropped the books on what I supposed she’d decided was my side, and threw herself on the bed closer to the door.

“I know it’s not what you expected,” she said. “Hell, it’s not what I expected. But we have to make the most of it, Rose. Okay? I mean, that Sonny character...he’s got eyes for you already. And mean old Nell, I think she likes you, too. We could spiff up this Penthouse of ours. We’ll find Asher in no time.”

“I don’t mind the attic,” I said.

“You don’t?”

“No,” I said going back to my trunk and pulling out my copy of
Sara Crewe.
“Have you ever read this? It’s delightful, really. I think I’ll read it again. She was sent to an attic room. If she could make the best of it, so can I. It’s the rest of it...the chaos. There’s a bit of Sara in you, Ivy. You’re taking all of this in stride.”

I went to Ivy’s trunk next and opened it. My careful packing had been upturned by some kind of last-minute addition she must have thrown in.

“Dear God, Ivy! Everything’s in a knot! I spent so much time trying to make sure our things were safe. When did you rummage through it, and why were you so careless?”

“I guess that’s the end of your improving mood,” said Ivy, staring up at the sloped ceiling above our beds and playing with a strand of beads around her neck. “One of them is lying about knowing Asher,” Ivy said, “but which one? It’s like that Agatha Christie novel.”

“They could all be lying.”

“What should we do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing. We’ll try to become closer to them. You’ve already started that, and I was wrong to be so cold. I’ll try harder, and maybe we can gain their trust.”

“I think you should start with Sonny.”

“Really, Ivy. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. If he was looking at anyone, it was you.”

“Nope. I know a flirt when I see one. Trust me, sister. Go to him. He might be the first chink in the armor, you know?”

“Maybe...”

“Well, I’m going downstairs. It’s stuffy up here, and I want to explore a little. Will you be all right? Would you like me to bring you some water?”

“No, I’m fine. I feel better up here.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Rose,” she said and then skipped down the stairs. I held my breath, afraid she’d fall on those heels of hers. But then I heard laughter and greetings...and I knew she was safe. I heard a gaggle of girls leave the building, slamming the double doors behind them, so I went to the window between our two beds that faced the street. She was walking arm in arm between Maude and Viv. They weren’t so bad, those girls. They were just...new. I looked up across another set of streets beyond the rooftops of the shorter buildings. One good thing about the penthouse was its bird’s-eye view. I’d always enjoyed being alone and seeing things from a safe distance.

The attic was stuffy, though. So I struggled to open the window, and when it finally screamed its way ajar, the breeze that blew in smelled like baking bread. And in that moment I was back in my own kitchen. My past came rushing over me like the sounds of the city outside. The days of Mother and Father having academic talks on the porch with friends. I remembered staying up late and listening—so late the crickets almost drowned out their voices, as they talked of Father’s drawings and Mother’s work with Suffrage. And then, after Mother died, all the lovely meals I’d made and the dresses I’d sewn. I realized that I was without a chore for the first time since I was fifteen. And then I wondered over the thousands of days that Papa had to tell us about Asher, and yet never did. The thousands of days that our father had not been a father to Asher yet could have. How would Asher ever forgive us for being the children that Father did choose to raise? I was just as afraid of finding Asher as I was determined to get my house back. And I couldn’t do one without the other.

Looking out of windows can make so many things clear. The city stretched out in front of me like a tattered quilt. I propped the window up with a splintered piece of window frame and then went to my trunk and finished unpacking. I took Ivy’s idea and placed my books on the wide window ledge. They looked pretty there. I thought I’d go find a flower or two to spruce up the rooms, and maybe wash my face, as well. I felt so dirty.

As I went to the door that led downstairs, I looked into Maude and Viv’s side.

That’s when I saw a little bed tucked under an even-steeper gable. I knew right away that it must belong to Claudia, that lovely little girl who seemed to work so hard. I’d go find her...not Sonny.

The washroom was a floor below. It wasn’t anything special, and I noticed it was clean. I splashed some water on my face from the basin and left quickly, my heart beating fast, terrified someone might walk in on me. I don’t think I’d realized how many people would be sharing one space. I thought of taking a bath in the chipped porcelain tub. What if someone came in then? I looked for a lock and was horrified to see a tiny hook that could be unlatched on the outside by anyone’s finger.

I’d returned to the hall when I heard Ivy’s heels clicking on the stairs before she rounded the corner and found me. She was simply glowing. I supposed she’d been on a walk embracing the city already.

“Rose! You’ve come down! Here’s your water. I know you said you didn’t want it, but Sonny simply insisted.” She placed the glass on the landing, not even handing it to me. “Now, I’m off to a party! We’ve both been invited. You should go through my trunk and pick a dress, then come downstairs.”

A party?

“Ivy, I’m in no shape to go to a party. And I don’t have a proper dress, and yours won’t fit! I’m taller than you. Your dresses go up to my knees!”

“All the better!”

“Please, give my apologies...I’m simply not prepared.”

“It’s not until a little later. Maybe you could spruce up something you have?”

“I don’t think so, Ivy.”

“I told you you’d try to ruin everything.” I could tell by her eyes that she didn’t want me to go with her. I was a burden to her, and I’d only just noticed it. “Fine, do as you must. But me? I’m going to soak up the scene. Tomorrow you’re gonna be calling me Sherlock.”

“Be careful, Ivy. We don’t even know these people.” Even if I’d wanted to go, I wouldn’t have at that point. Why ruin her time by saddling her with a broken, old-fashioned girl? She’d be embarrassed by me.

“Rose, you’re going to have to decide to live a little.”

Ivy was always jumping headlong into any situation regardless of the danger or consequence. If she’d given me a flicker of real desire... If she’d told me that she needed me by her side to be brave, I may have gone. Instead, she threw up her arms and yelled, “Suit yourself!” as she ran down the stairs again.

“Remember who you are and where you come from,” I said.

When she’d left, I returned to the penthouse, leaving the glass of water and my decision to try and gather some flowers behind me. Half of me wanted Ivy to stumble on that glass when she came back up.

Once upstairs I had second thoughts about that party. I didn’t want her in the corrupted heart of this city without me. She could get into all sorts of trouble.

* * *

I unpacked as much as I could, and then curled up on my bed with
Sara Crewe.

As the sun set over our first day in New York City, I could hear the gathering party outside and then I noticed a small ray of light that shimmered from behind the dressing table at the opposite side of our half of the room.

Where is that coming from?
I asked myself. I walked to the dressing table and peeked behind to see a thick layer of curtains.

I pushed at the dressing table, and it moved more easily than expected. I placed my back against it and pushed harder. It slid a few feet to the side, bumping into another beam near what looked like the entrance to a crawl space.

There they were, the curtains. More fabric than anything tailored. I yanked on them and they came down,
pop, pop, pop,
as the small tacks affixing them to the walls sprang out of the wood. The fabric fell to the floor.

There was a window. A small, round window that looked out over the back gardens of the four buildings on either side of Empire House and the next block over. Decrepit, unkempt gardens.

People were gathering for the party that we’d been invited to. Lanterns glowed, glittery dresses flew past like fairies. I noticed that the window had a small platform on the outside, so it must be some kind of fire escape, though who could fit in or out was beyond me.

I couldn’t see Ivy in the crowd.

Turning back around, I picked up the fabric that had fallen. There was a heavy velvet overlay. Rust colored and damp. Then, underneath...reams and reams of orange chiffon that despite the terrible color were in good shape.

Daisy was a seamstress
...I thought, remembering what Viv and Maude had said about the woman, our next-best clue to finding out about our brother.

If she was a seamstress, there may be a sewing machine.

“Miss?”

I heard the voice from behind. It was the little girl, Claudia, who’d met us at the front doors of Empire House. I was happy to see her.

“Hello.”

“My name is Claudia. I didn’t know if you’d remember, because people got all sorts of different kinds of memories around here.”

I laughed. “I remember. Hello, Claudia.”

“How’re ya settlin’ in, miss?”

“I don’t think I belong here,” I said, confessing my deepest fears to a strange girl in a strange world.

“No one does, miss. This place is for people who got nowhere and no one. Then, we try to make a safe place for each other. Only the truth is,
safe
in’t a word that means much.”

“You are a wise little one, aren’t you.”

“I just came up to grab an apron,” she said and went to the little bed area I’d seen before.

“Are you comfortable there, Claudia?”

“Yes, Nell gives it to me for my work. It’s not much, I know, but better than sleepin’ on the street.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Gone.”

“Where is your family?”

“Got none.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“I do.”

She retrieved a clean apron and came back near me. She took my hand, walked me to the bed and sat me down. She unloosed my hair, and for some reason, I let her.

“You got grand hair like Mary Pickford. You seen a moving picture? Sometimes they still play the flickers for ten cents down at Washington Theatre. Don’t cut it, miss. It’s so pretty.”

“I won’t, Claudia.”

She picked up my book. “What’s this about?” she asked.

“Oh, you’d like it! It’s about a little girl your age, who comes to a school for girls. When she arrives, she’s very rich. But when her father dies in the war, she has no money and she’s forced to live in the attic and clean the house.”

“Does it have a happy ending?”

“Why don’t you read it? You may borrow it if you’d like.”

“I can’t read.”

“You can’t read?”

“A little, maybe.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“Oh, yes! Would you teach me?”

“I’d be honored,” I said, going to my trunk and taking out my pens, paper and ink. “Let’s start with that alphabet.”

Just then we heard “CLAUDIA!” from downstairs.

“I gotta go back down or Nell will slap me silly.” She looked at the fabric on the floor. “You sew?”

“Yes, I do. But I need a sewing machine.”

“Over on the other side of my bed I have a trunk. I keep things people left behind—you know, trinkets and such. I nabbed Daisy’s sewing machine. You could have it. It’s takin’ up too much space anyhow. There’s some spools of thread in there, too.”

“Thank you,” I said. “She left her sewing machine behind? What made her leave that way, Claudia? Do you know?”

Claudia shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and looked all around the room, trying to avoid my gaze. But it was such an exaggerated effort that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are,” I said.

She laughed with me. “Daisy was a nice lady. Don’t let anyone tell you any different, miss,” she said.

She smiled then hopped down the stairs, counting to herself.

I went to the trunk she spoke of. It was a large steamer trunk with the top slightly open because of the size of the sewing machine. I lifted it out, heavy though it was, and brought it over to my bed knocking over the ink and paper I’d taken out to write down an alphabet for Claudia. If I cursed, I would have cursed then. I looked around to find something to mop up the ink, but couldn’t find anything so I picked up the bottle and the ink began to spill over my hands.

I flew down the stairs with the ink and went into the washroom, throwing the bottle out in the small wastebasket next to the tub.

Ink was everywhere. On my hands, a bit on my cheek and all over the front of my dress. The more I tried to scrub it off, the more the stains spread. Old-fashioned though it was, it was the most modern dress I had, and I’d already seen enough to know I’d need a less-modest dress to blend in. I would have nothing suitable at all to wear in the morning.

I washed the ink off my hands and face and went back to the penthouse. Orange chiffon would be ugly, but at least it would be something.