Page 46 of The Missing Pages
Violet laughed. “Tell me, how many catwomen and French maids do you have in there? I know you already have at least one set, with Lara and Jenny. We wanted to do something fresh.”
“Well, you’ve certainly succeeded,” he said. He was dressed in a purple velvet suit and blonde wig and oversized sunglasses.
“And who are you tonight?” Sylvia flashed her smile at Theo. “Elton John?”
“Admirable guess, Syl. But I was going for David Bowie.”
“Ah, good one.”
“I tried my best.”
He opened the door for them and they ventured inside.
“Vi… Syl… you came!” Violet heard Jenny’s unmistakable squeal greet them in the vestibule.
Her face was flushed from the alcohol. Her blonde hair had fallen out of her high ponytail, and the short white crinoline beneath her black satin maid’s costume had slid upward from what was intended to cover her behind.
She grabbed Violet’s hand and then burst out laughing. “What’s with the trench coats?” Her laughter peeled through the room. “Are you guys a couple of ghostbusters?”
She burst into a sloppy rendition of the movie’s theme song and then pretended to shoot imaginary ghosts at the top of the carved plaster ceiling and the corner of the foyer.
“Come on, Jen…” George Finney, one of Hugo’s former rowing friends, came over and slipped his arm around Jenny. “I think someone has had enough to drink.”
“Did you know Vi thought the ghost of Harry Widener was trying to communicate with her at the library?” She exploded in another fit of laughter, then took another swig from her cup.
George managed a weak smile in Violet’s and Sylvia’s directions, then led Jenny upstairs, a few plumes of her feather duster had come loose and floated in the air.
“Sorry about that,” Theo apologized. “Guess you can’t get good help these days,” he teased. “Anyways, can I get you guys something to drink?”
They followed him to the bar, where there was a huge silver punch bowl. One of the members was ladling out that evening’s special drink, which was colored bright red with dry ice–created plumes of steam wafting off its surface.
Theo gave them each a cup, and then served himself one as well.
They were just about to head upstairs to the billiard room, when Jenny’s unmistakable shriek was heard once again. This time it wasn’t laughter, but rather a genuine scream of distress.
“What the hell?” Theo leaned over and tried to figure out what had caused all the chaos. A crowd of people still in their costumes had piled back into the hallway. Seconds later Jenny came downstairs hysterical. She was completely dusted in white plaster.
“What happened?” Theo pulled George to the side.
“A piece of the ceiling just, like, collapsed above her. All this plaster got dumped on her head. Water’s coming out of a pipe too…” George was speaking so quickly, it was hard to make out his words.
Just when it seemed the chaos couldn’t get any worse, the fire alarm went off.
Within minutes, the Harvard campus police had arrived, followed by the fire department. The structural integrity of the building nowhad to be investigated and maintenance had to attend to the leak. Jenny was whisked off to the infirmary in a campus car.
Sylvia and Violet had managed to get outside unscathed. “I’ll walk you guys home,” Theo said as he came back over to them. “I don’t want anything to happen to either of you after we might have had a visit from our own disgruntled ghost,” he tried to joke.
Violet didn’t answer. She knew it could have been a coincidence that Jenny had all that plaster fall on top of her or just plain bad luck. But Violet couldn’t help but wish that Harry was really looking out for her. That he had wanted to send Jenny a message of his own.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IWANTED TO SAFEGUARDADA, PROTECT HER.ILOVEDeverything about her. I loved her voice. I loved her intellect, how her mind never seemed at rest, how she was fueled by curiosity. I admired her knowledge, not just on book-related topics, but about people and about the world. For a woman who grew up in a small village east of London, she was neither sheltered nor naive. She was a blend of sophistication and sweetness. I wanted to kiss her forever.
I stood there in leafy Holland Park, the magpies and mistle thrush chirping from high above, and for a moment everything stood still.
“Ada.” I said her name after my lips had parted from hers. “I have been thinking about doing that all afternoon.”
“Just the afternoon?” she teased.
