"Some of the other girls I'll be working with on set are so lovely," Juliette spoke up. "In fact, one of them asked us to meet her out tonight at a jazz club near Times Square."
"Well, that sounds wonderful," Claude replied. "I think it's a fine idea to get to know some of the other actresses."
"Her name is June. She's around our age and soft-spoken, but with a beautiful voice. I was in awe listening to her practice."
Claude appeared enamored just listening to Juliette. I could see the pride and happiness he felt for her—it was as if his gaze was slipping through her as he tried to see whatever she was imagining. I suppose that was what true love looked like from the outside. It must have been the way I looked at Amelia when I had the chance.
"I can't wait to meet her, darling. Anyone who makes you happy will surely make me happy, as well."
Juliette swallowed hard, raised her eyebrows, and glanced over in my direction. "Charlie, you must join us tonight too."
"That's nonsense. You should get to know this girl without me crowding the space."
"But, I want you to come," Juliette insisted. "Please, Charlie. We have only been in the city a week. You should get out of the apartment and live your life here. Plus, you never know who you might run into, right?"
I did not miss the fact that Claude nudged his elbow into Juliette's side. I knew what she was doing, and I knew what he was telling her to stop suggesting—both for different reasons. Juliette's reason won my attention. She was right. If I had any chance of seeing Amelia, I would need to be outside of my apartment. "Okay, I will join you," I said.
"That is fantastic. We will have a great time, you'll see."
Unlike Claude, I had not put much effort into changing my style, adhering to the New York fashion. Therefore, Juliette insisted on dressing me for the outing. She had made a couple of shopping trips to find new clothes for herself and Claude over the past week, and it was apparent she was falling in love with fashion more and more each day. I had been watching the attention she was giving each accessory and matching her clutch or pocketbook. Juliette wanted nothing more than to fit in with the lifestyle. She had said this on more than one occasion: "If it weren't for my thick German accent, I would fit in perfectly here. No one would know I just emigrated." I suppose she could have been right. I, for one, thought the three of us stood out quite blatantly.
"This is the trend, Charlie," she argued as I loosened the tie she had set in place.
"I was hoping never to wear one of these choking devices again," I muttered.
Juliette slapped my hand away from the tie. "Stop, Charlie. You look dapper." When she spoke those words, I remembered it was the only way I would want to look if I was to see Amelia.
"Fine, it will do," I told her.
"You look very charming," she said, standing back to admire her work.
"You look lovely, yourself," I told her. Juliette always looked nice, though. It didn't seem she had to try very hard.
"Darling, we're ready to go," Juliette shouted into her bedroom, seeking Claude.
Claude dressed to the aces. He looked as if he stepped right out of a storefront window of Brooks Brothers. "If you keep dressing like that, I won't recognize you soon," I joked with him.
"Got to look the part, my brother. We're New Yorkers now, ja?"
I stepped into the bathroom to take a glance in the mirror. Juliette styled my hair, and I liked the way I looked.
The three of us made our way toward Times Square, where we located the jazz club. An orange glow dimly lit the interior, tea lights decorated each white linen-covered table, and the saxophone's tunes echoed between the walls. The smell of cigarettes and cigars had stolen most of the fresh air, but the mild scent of garlic and fresh bread offered the area a pleasingly rich aroma.
Juliette nearly startled me when she began waving furiously toward the back of the restaurant. "June is already here. She has a table for us in the corner," she squawked as she continued to wave above our heads at a brunette with vibrant burgundy lips and smoldering dark lashes. She was indeed a sight for sore eyes.
I followed Juliette and Claude through the crowd, taking the vacant seat beside June. "June, this my husband, Claude, and this is our closest friend, Charlie Crane," she said, opening her hand toward me.
June offered Claude her hand first, and he placed a kiss on the top of her black satin glove. "It's a pleasure. Juliette was going on and on about you earlier." Next, June twisted in her seat to face me. "Juliette told me a great deal about you, as well. She wasn't lying when she said you were quite a looker."
Juliette and Claude both snickered, and I likely blushed. It was a good thing it was too dark to see the redness on my cheeks. Before long, Juliette and Claude had gotten up from the table to secure a few beverages, leaving June and me alone. I might not have been one for many words, but June took care of that situation nicely. She began to chatter about Broadway and the lifestyle of an actress, and I pretended to listen by nodding my head and offering a snicker here and there. Truly, I was peering over her shoulder, taking in the sights, and looking for a resemblance of Amelia.
That's when I saw her.
This time I was sure it was Amelia. It was kismet. "Will you pardon me for a moment?" I asked June, standing from my seat and rushing toward the beautiful woman.
"Amelia?" I called out.
She turned toward me, and my hand fell to my chest, checking to see if my heart was still beating, or if maybe I had died and gone to heaven.
