The Dollhouse

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

New York City, 1952

Darby sat down to write a letter to Mother as soon as she got back to the Barbizon. Strange how now that she’d been expelled from Gibbs, her room took on an unexpected, nostalgic hue. She’d miss the view from the window. Even the garish curtains and bedspread seemed endearing.

The door opened with a bang and Maureen rushed in.

“Darby, I heard the news.”

“Right. I guess everyone at the school knows by now.”

Maureen leaned over and gave her an awkward hug, then sat on the bed. “I can’t believe they’d do this to you.”

“It’s so unfair. I explained to Mrs. Tibbett that I was really trying, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m writing a letter to Mother explaining everything, saying that I’m sorry to disappoint her but that I’ll go back to Defiance and work hard, pay her back in full.” Esme came to mind, working one job during the day and another at night, all while going to school. “I know I can do it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Maureen’s gaze drifted over to the open door, where two Ford girls trying on princess costumes for Halloween squealed over each other.

Darby shrugged. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I feel bad about the money, of course, but it’s probably all for the best.”

Maureen nodded, her mouth slightly open, still entranced by the creatures in the hallway.

“I’ll miss you and the twins.”

Maureen snapped back to attention. “And I’ll miss you terribly. Why don’t I go to Mrs. Tibbett and put in a good word? Do you think that’d help? I know Edna and Edith will join me. They absolutely adore you.”

“I doubt that would do any good. Maybe I’m not cut out for New York after all.”

Without excusing the interruption, one of the Ford girls turned and beckoned to Maureen from across the hall. “You. We need your fingers. Sandra’s zipper is stuck.”

Maureen scuttled over and did as they commanded, holding the material together as the other girl slowly encased Sandra in a taffy-colored satin gown. After, Maureen remained in the doorway, watching them drift off without even a thank-you. Not that she needed one. For Maureen, just getting noticed by one of the giraffes was enough reward. Thanks to Esme, they no longer had such an effect on Darby.

Once she’d broken free from the spell, Maureen insisted that she and Darby be pen pals, and after Darby promised to write, they hugged a teary good-bye. Darby finished the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and placed it on top of her desk. Part of her was relieved to no longer have to pretend that she wanted to be a secretary, but she’d never let anyone down like this before. Mother’s displeasure would be crushing.

A knock on the door broke her concentration. She recognized the sharp rap. “Come in, Esme.”

“Hey there, chica. What’s going on?”

She didn’t bother softening the news. “I’ve been expelled.”

Esme perched on the window ledge and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? I was a bad influence on you.”

The same thought had gone through Darby’s head. What if she hadn’t made friends with Esme and gotten dazzled by nights filled with bebop and Sam?

She shrugged off the thought. “I’m the one who showed up late, who failed tests. I hated secretarial school, but I liked what we did together. Anyway, I just wrote to Mother. Once she gets this and sends me train fare, I’ll be on my way.”

“How long do we have?” A note of desolation crept into Esme’s voice.

“I don’t know. A week, maybe.”

“Do you really have to go?”

“I can’t stay. I can’t make a living here.”

“Of course you can.”

Darby let out a scornful laugh. “I don’t think you understand. I’ll never be a secretary now. It’s over.”

Esme leaned forward. “So do something else. Why is it so important to go back?”

“Mother spent all her money to send me here and I have to pay her back. I owe her that much. I’ve completely disappointed her.”

“What about how she’s disappointed you?”

Darby shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She married that Mr. Saunders. It seems to me she’s the one who put you in this position to start with. What if she’d taken the money and gone to school herself? Learned to be a nurse or something? Then she could have supported herself without having to lean on a man and lightened up on you.”

Darby couldn’t imagine Mother pursuing a career; she was of a different generation. All she knew was dinner parties and tennis. “That was never going to happen.”

Esme stood up and paced the room. “You’re gonna have a career, just not the career your mother thought you would.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we work together to get a recording contract. We can call ourselves the Downtown Dollies.”

Darby squirmed. “I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“Sure it is. Hell, we’re just getting started.”

“And how do I feed myself in the meantime?”

“We find an apartment together, something cheap. You can take up some shifts at the club as a waitress. Sam and I can put in a good word for you there. We hang on until we hit it big. Whichever comes first: me on Broadway or us together as a singing duo.”

“I don’t know.” Even as she said it, Esme’s plan was taking root in her brain. Being in New York City but not having to go to secretarial school had never figured into Darby’s thinking. The two were intertwined from the very start. Maybe Esme was right. Maybe she could stand on her own two feet. She touched the envelope sitting on her desk, imagining what Mother would think when she heard of her plans. “I’m not sure if I can do it.”

“Of course you can. Look at me and my papa. He was the center of my world in Puerto Rico; we obeyed him and did whatever he said and were terrified to cross him. But when I got to New York City, I had the power. I took control, did what I had to do. Now it’s your turn.”

“The only money I have is from our gig. And I’d have to send that to Mother, to show her that I’m planning on paying her back.” She did the calculation in her head. “I don’t see how I can swing it. Even if I found a job right away.”

“I’ll take care of that. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.”

A terrible thought sprang into her head. “You won’t be doing that thing you talked about, when the men came after you, will you?”

Esme snickered. “No way. I have resources at my fingertips and they don’t involve turning tricks.”

Darby choked at the frank choice of words and gave Esme a weak smile. Her mind raced with a list of possibilities. She could go home, face Mother and Mr. Saunders, and lick her wounds. Or she could stay here, with Esme and Sam, and figure out another approach. One she had never imagined.

Darby picked up the letter to Mother, took a deep breath, and ripped it in half.

Esme let out a yip of delight. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll write to Mother and explain everything. Maybe she’ll understand.”

Or maybe her news would come as a relief. The household was probably more peaceful now and would remain so if Mr. Saunders could continue to pretend she didn’t exist. Darby was a constant reminder of her father.

“What do we do first?” she asked.

“You’re paid up at the Barbizon until the end of the month, right?”

Darby nodded.

“That gives me a couple days to find us a place together. You can talk to Mr. Buckley at the club and get a job. By this time next week, we’ll be two girls out on the town.”

Relief poured through Darby. “I was a terrible Gibbs girl.”

Esme hugged her hard, so she could barely breathe. “You certainly were.”

“You’re using my sink.”

Darby stared at Candy through the mirror but didn’t stop brushing her teeth. She’d woken up the day after her expulsion in a daze. The sinking feeling in her stomach was worse than the one she’d felt when she first arrived at the Barbizon. Kicked out of Gibbs, all the money gone. The afterglow from Esme’s excitement had dimmed overnight.

And now here was Candy, claiming a sink, when there were three sinks available to Darby’s left.

Grogginess at the early hour draped around Darby like a nubby blanket. She couldn’t stop staring, nor did she stop brushing her teeth. Candy’s hair was done up in pink sponge curlers, and a smudge of mascara marred the pale skin under one eye. The imperious set of her chin reminded Darby of Mr. Saunders when he was displeased. Her mother would do anything to make his jaw relax, whether it was pleading, teasing, or pouting.

Darby had several choices. She could scurry out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely. She could move down one sink and continue brushing her teeth.

But she’d be out of the hotel in less than a week, and Candy no longer had any power over her. In fact, she never had.

Candy stamped one foot. “You deaf? I need my sink. I have a go-see in two hours.”

With a slow deliberateness, Darby turned off the faucet and tapped her toothbrush a couple of times to dry. She leaned over the sink and opened her mouth, letting the mixture of toothpaste and saliva drip out of her mouth into the basin in a thick, wet mess.

She turned around, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave Candy a smile.

“All yours.”

Candy’s screeches followed her down the hall.

Stella poked her head out of her room. “What’s going on? Another cockroach in the shower?”

“Candy’s having a bad day, I guess.”

Stella laughed. “What else is new. Hey, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I got kicked out of Katie Gibbs.”

Stella’s hand flew to her chest. “What? When?”

“Yesterday.”

Stella held out her arms and pulled Darby into them. “My dear girl. You don’t deserve that. What can I do?”

An unexpected lump formed in her throat at her friend’s kindness. Stella had tried to look out for her, from the very beginning. Darby couldn’t get any words out to answer.

“Come with me.” Stella led her up the stairwell and opened the door to the sky terrace. Back when the Indian summer was in full swing, girls in ruched one-piece bathing suits would gather on warm afternoons, but this morning all was quiet. Darby plopped down on the nearest chaise longue and looked out into the distance, where the Chrysler Building stretched into the sky, bright and gleaming. Being up so high above the city made her troubles seem less dramatic.

Darby filled Stella in the best she could, ending with a reenactment of Candy’s horror when she’d dribbled in her sink. “That was fun, I have to admit.”

“You’re not the same girl you were before.”

Darby shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

“No. You’re a grown-up now.”

“Wait’ll my mother finds out. I’ll regress to an infant.”

“Why?”

“No refund. She put her heart and soul into me improving my lot in life as a Gibbs girl, and I couldn’t even last two months.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, Esme wants me to work in the club and for the two of us to try singing together, like an act.”

Stella squinted, whether from the idea or the bright sun, Darby wasn’t sure. She shouldn’t have brought up Esme’s name.

Darby pulled her robe tight around her. “I wish my father were alive.”

“Were you close?”

“We got on like crazy. My mother doesn’t understand me at all, not that she tried very hard. We don’t have much in common.” The sun shone on Stella’s hair, highlighting the gold strands among the auburn. “She would have loved to have you as a daughter. You’re pretty and stylish, like her.”

Stella fiddled with the rhinestone bracelet on her wrist. “Pretty only goes so far.”

“All I know is I’m headed for deep trouble. My mother hates failure. She got so mad at my father when he got fired. Even when he was dying, she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him.”

“She does sound like a pill. Why did he get fired?”

“Something happened at work. His boss said he was too nice.”

“Too nice?”

“He was innocent, in a way. Trusted everyone, I guess.”

“Your mother seems to have very high standards.”

“You got that right.” Darby sat upright and swung her legs to the side. She was done feeling maudlin. She had to come up with a plan, decide her fate. Whether it was defying her mother or managing Esme, there was no more time to wallow in self-pity. “I have to figure this out.”

Stella reached over and patted her knee. “Don’t think too far ahead. That’s my go-to remedy in a time of crisis. Do something this morning that will make you happy.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Pop down to the diner with me and have an egg sandwich? Buy a new lipstick?”

Something that made her happy. Darby smiled.

“Thanks. But I think I know what will do the trick.”

Sam took Darby’s hand as they entered Washington Square Park. She’d found him in the kitchen of the Flatted Fifth, grinding spices in a mortar, and hadn’t had to say a word. He saw the look on her face, took off his apron, and together they walked west while she told him the story of her meeting with Mrs. Tibbett, stopping only to buy two coffees at a corner deli.

She took a sip to conceal her delight at the nonchalant way he’d taken her hand. As if they had been together for a while and did this kind of thing every day. Like she was his girl.

“How did you feel after you found out?” he asked. He’d taken the news easily, thoughtfully, without any of the awkward gestures of Maureen or the sweet pity of Stella.

“Panic. Then relief. I was happy not to live through another eight months of secretarial accounting and pretending to answer the phone.”

“Okay. So it’s a good thing. What’s next for you, then?” He stared over at the fountain, where a man with a guitar sat playing, surrounded by girls wearing blue jeans and tight tops that would have sent Mrs. Eustis into a tailspin.

What if she’d read this all wrong? Sam might be relieved she was out of his hair, and hoping she’d be on her way to Ohio on the next train out.

“Mother will want me to come home so she can torture me for letting her down.”

“And what do you want?”

Darby cocked her head. She’d never been brave enough to seriously consider the question until now.

For seventeen years, she’d done what others wanted. Her mother had been so brittle with rage that Darby hadn’t dared to speak her mind. Mr. Saunders’s presence hadn’t helped the situation, and she’d slowly tucked her real self inside, like a turtle being poked by a stick.

“I owe my mother a lot of money, to pay back the tuition, and I feel very guilty about that.”

He looked down at her. The guitar player strummed something in a minor key and sang about lost love. “That’s not what I asked you, though.”

“Right, but that’s a big part of it, what I should do versus what I would like to do. And Esme is very excited. I saw her in the elevator when I was on my way here. We couldn’t talk for long because Mrs. Eustis got on at the next floor, but Esme said she was working on some scheme, that she had my back.”

“What’s Esme’s scheme involve?”

“She wants me to work at the club and sing with her, try to get some gigs.”

“Typical Esme.”

Darby laughed. “I know, but I like the way she doesn’t let anything or anyone hold her back. I could use more of that myself, I’ve come to realize.”

“For now, leave that all be.” He touched her chin lightly with his index finger. “What do you want?”

Her love of books had stayed the same, no matter if she was a Barbizon guest or a Gibbs girl. “I want to work with words, with writing. I met a girl at the Barbizon who works in publishing, and that sounded like fun.”

“If you want to work with words, I have no doubt you’ll make it happen somehow.”

The simple conviction of his delivery brought tears to her eyes. “So you don’t want me to go back to Ohio?”

“What?” He tossed his coffee cup into a nearby trash can in an easy arc. Darby did the same but missed by a foot.

“Oops.” She picked it up and dropped it in. “I thought you might be tired of me hanging around and wouldn’t want me working at the same place you do.”

He took the scarf from his neck and looped it around Darby’s, pulling her in closer to him and kissing her on the lips. “No. I don’t want you to go back. But the whole point here is that you decide what you want. Do you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

And she did. Her first decision, made on her own, was that New York would be her home. The second was that she’d find Charlotte as soon as she got back from London and charm her way into a job. If she had to work waiting tables in the meantime, that would be fine. And one day she’d repay her mother.

“I think I know what I want,” she said.

Sam didn’t ask her to elaborate, just kissed her again. “And I want to watch you get it.”

“Should be a crazy trip, I must warn you.”

“I like crazy. Do you mind if I come along for the ride?”

She swallowed hard. “I would love that.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”