In the ballroom, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the candlelight and electric chandeliers after the soft glow of gas lamps. I carefully place one foot in front of the other when suddenly, Katherine grabs my arm and points shakily at my chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Vivian Jean!” she exclaims, horror in her eyes, “Where’s your necklace, the pocket watch, your father’s gift?”
I reach up, expecting to grasp the gold chain and, if not that, the pocket watch itself, but there’s nothing to hold on to. “Oh my God! I’ve lost it—it’s gone!”
“Where were you when you last had it, Vivian Jean?” Katherine asks.
“Here. I’ve had it since we’ve been here.” I stare at her blankly, frozen, unable to think or move. I glance around Mr. Abbott’s grand ballroom and groan. “It could be anywhere. How could I lose it? I’m such a careless fool.”
“Is this what you’re looking for?” a voice interjects.
I shriek. It’s Othella, and she’s holding my pocket watch.
“I started searching for it as soon as Miss Katherine said it was missing. It was on the floor by the buffet table over there.” Othella glances at Katherine and Robbie, who stand with their mouths open in surprise. “I bet the man who tried to steal my brooch took it from you and probably dropped it when he ran. I warned you he was a pickpocket.”
“My goodness, Othella, you’re a lifesaver.” I embrace her.
“I’m just relieved I found it,” Othella replies.
“I’m glad that thief wasted his trip to Hyde Park tonight,” Robbie enthusiastically adds.
“I’m just happy to have the pocket watch back.” I put myarm around Othella for another hug of gratitude. “Let’s celebrate Othella’s discovery with champagne, everyone.”
“Sounds lovely,” Katherine agrees.
“Can I join, too?” asks Robbie eagerly.
“Of course,” I reply.
Othella leans on my shoulder and says, “I love champagne.”
We share a glass of champagne and a few hors d’oeuvres before Katherine and I exchange a meaningful glance. “It’s time for us to leave,” I say.
“But not before one final toast.” Katherine raises her glass. “I apologize for cutting the celebration short, but we have a train to catch.”
I notice the sadness in Othella’s eyes. “Othella, may I give you a ride home?” I ask.
She shakes her head firmly.
“If you’re staying, can I rely on Robbie to get you home safely?”
Mr. Barnes steps up confidently, grinning. “It would be my pleasure to act as Miss Montgomery’s escort tonight,” he responds.
Othella’s eyes reflect disappointment.
I had thought she liked him. Youth is a paradox. Often full of joy and life, their feelings move like the wind and just as quickly fall into despair with as little prompting as a finger prick. I tell Othella, “Swear you’ll keep in touch.” I pull out my purse and give her my calling card.
“This is the phone number for Hartfield House. While I’m in Jamaica, you call this number and ask for my maid, Maxi, if you need anything. Call. Okay. We’ll be gone for at least a month or two,” I continue. “But Maxi will be here and knows how to reach me.”
Othella replies, “Okay.”
“I mean it, dear. Promise me you will keep in touch.”
“I promise,” she responds. “I will.”
Katherine and I make our way to the Abbotts’ to thank them for a fantastic evening. We even spend a few moments with Josephine Baker and her husband, the Count.
