Page 61 of Dreams of Falling
Margaret shook her head. “I can’t. If he truly loves me, he’ll come home and admit he’s made a big mistake. By not writing, I’m hoping he’ll figure that out on his own.”
Bitty rolled her eyes. “I don’t know much about men, Margaret, but I do know that they’re about as good at mind reading as women are. Just give me the word, and I will write to him for you.”
When Margaret didn’t give her a response, Bitty looked at Ceecee. “I give up.”
Ceecee could only nod, having already tried over and over again to talk sense into Margaret. It was wearying and sad, not to mention hopeless. Bitty was right—without a letter from Margaret, Reggie would think she’d forgotten about him. But apart from writing the letter themselves, as Bitty had threatened, there wasn’t anything they could do about it.
“I’m starving,” Ceecee said. “Anybody up for the Whistling Pig? I don’t think I’ve been there since graduation.”
“Best hot dog in the world,” Bitty said. “I’m game.”
Margaret didn’t answer but stopped to stare listlessly into the window at Nancy’s Dress Shop, watching the reflection of the sky behind them instead of the pretty dresses on mannequins. “I like that one on the left, Margaret,” Ceecee said in her most cheerful voice. “It wouldlook just beautiful with your coloring and would show off your tiny waist. That sweet girl Marilyn Tompkins works there and has the best taste. Let’s go inside.”
Margaret frowned and turned her head, as if just becoming aware that she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry?”
Ceecee dug into her purse, pulled out the tube of Certainly Red lipstick that Margaret had given to her on the day they’d left for Myrtle Beach, and handed it to her along with her mirror. “I think you forgot to put your lipstick on. Here, use this. Everybody says that just putting on a bright lipstick will make a girl feel like a million dollars without having to spend a million dollars.” She wasn’t sure if that was really what “everybody” said, or where she’d heard it, but she was desperate to get Margaret to smile again.
Margaret took the lipstick and mirror and stared at them as if she had no idea what they were for. Bitty grabbed them out of her hand and gave them back to Ceecee. “For pity’s sake, Margaret. He’s just a man. And if he can leave you without a by-your-leave, then he’s not worth mooning over.”
Seeing Margaret’s face begin to pucker, Ceecee prepared herself for another torrent of tears and began to hunt for the nearest bench. Suddenly, she saw a cab pull up in front of the jewelry store and the back window roll down just as the store owner hurried out to the car.
“Who’s that?” Ceecee asked.
Bitty wore a sly smirk. “One of Hazel Weiss’s working girls from the Sunset Lodge. I hear they make as much as a thousand dollars a month. In cash.”
Ceecee glanced over at Margaret, who was watching with a strange expression, but at least she wasn’t crying. They continued to watch as the store owner went back inside and then reemerged a short time later with a flat black display box. They couldn’t see what was inside, but the sun glinted off something bright and sparkling as he opened the car door for the woman inside to see.
“Why don’t they shut them down?” Ceecee asked Bitty. Bitty was always the person to ask about sensitive topics since she talked openly with her parents about everything.
Bitty snorted. “Because the politicians who make the laws are their best customers.” She took out a pack of cigarettes from her purse, but Ceecee’s glare made her put it back. Ladies simply didnotsmoke on the sidewalk. But it was apparently appropriate for a prostitute to shop on one.
Through the open door, Ceecee could make out a pair of long, elegant, stockinged legs leading down to high-heeled black shoes. A wide-brimmed hat with netting covered the face, giving the unidentified woman a secret allure.
“Come on,” Bitty said, grabbing Ceecee’s hand and not waiting for Margaret to follow. “Let’s go look at the engagement rings.”
Aware of how Margaret might feel about it, Ceecee tried to pull away, but Bitty wouldn’t let her. “She should be happy for you,” Bitty said, not letting go. “A real friend would be.”
They were almost at the jewelry store when Ceecee glanced back and saw Margaret slowly following them, her gaze focused on the parked car at the curb.
Bitty stopped at the store window, pointing out diamond engagement rings, her eyes occasionally turning to the reflection of the car and the woman seated inside. There was a high trill of laughter, and Ceecee turned in time to see a small gloved hand accept a small black velvet bag from the jeweler, but no offer of payment. The woman said good-bye, and the door shut before the car pulled away and disappeared down the street.
“Did she steal the jewelry?” Ceecee asked, shocked that a shopkeeper would openly be doing business with a prostitute.
“No,” Bitty said with a condescending air. “Apparently, most of the women have accounts at the businesses downtown. During the Depression, the owners liked to see Hazel and her girls walk through their doors. Can’t imagine them turning them away now.”
Ceecee shook her head. “I can’t believe that just happened in front of me,” she said, making room at the window for Margaret. “I wonder if my parents know about it.”
“Oh, they know,” Bitty said. “The Sunset Lodge has been theresince the thirties. When your daddy preaches against fornication, that’s most likely what he’s referring to.”
At first, Ceecee thought she was listening to a mewling kitten, but when she didn’t see one, she looked up at Margaret, who was crying again, but it was different this time. Her sobs were so quiet, it was as if her hurt had turned in on itself, unable to find a way out.
Margaret pressed her gloved hands against the glass window, holding herself up as her body shook with silent sobs. Bitty met Ceecee’s eyes, and a worried glance passed between them. It was Bitty who took Margaret’s arm this time, led her to a bench, and sat next to her as Ceecee remained standing and did her best to hide her from passersby.
“Margaret, please. Speak to us. Tell us how we can help you.” Bitty was holding Margaret’s hands in hers.
In between hiccups, Margaret finally spoke. “That... woman. I wanted to speak... with her.”
“Why on earth would you want to speak with aprostitute?” Ceecee whispered the last word.
