“Well. Now that that’s settled, I’d better get to work.” Harriet grins at us and pushes through to the dining room.
Beckett takes my hand. I turn to him, pressing my forehead to his. “Harriet’s playing the matchmaker, too, isn’t she?”
He smiles, brushing away my tears with his thumbs. “She is.”
“I think we deserve a night out. What do you say?”
He answers me with a kiss, surprising me with his forwardness, and I melt into the sweet, earthy reality of him. A reality I never want to let go of again.
Beckett hands me out of the Duesenberg, my heart lighter than it has felt in weeks. The iridescent jet beads on my hem sway back and forth as we walk into the hotel ballroom, the bright, vibrant sounds of afive-piece jazz band flooding the lofty space decorated with bouquets of chrysanthemums, cornstalks, and sunflowers to convey the harvest theme. We’re dressed to the nines, the both of us. It felt good to get ready for a night out again—to primp and paint my face. I’ve even rouged my knees for the first time in months and pressed the sides of my hair with Marguerite’s marcel iron, pinning it back into a faux bob. Beckett looks dapper in his well-tailored suit, his chestnut waves parted in the middle and combed with pomade. He draws me forward, into the crowd, pressing me to him as we sway together to the music, our bodies aligned perfectly for dancing. We’re a handsome couple, drawing admiring glances from the locals.
Before I know it, we’re kissing, feverish and hungry, and the rest of the crowd seems to fade away. When we pull apart, breathless, Beckett closes his eyes, leaning into me again. “God, Sadie, you’re something else.”
“Say, you kids need to get a room!” someone says, followed by a shrill wolf whistle. “Who’s this sweet thing, Beck?”
“Larry,” Beckett says, his voice flat. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.” His arms lock around me possessively as the short young man with greasy blond hair looks me up and down.
“I ain’t on your route no more. After that old dame you work for opened the door naked as a jaybird, I asked Hal to change me to a town route.” Larry laughs, showing a set of crooked, yellow teeth. “Won’t ever get that image out of my mind. Holy hell.”
I feel Beckett tense. He doesn’t like this man, and neither do I. He’s crass. Loud. And he just insulted my aunt.
“Well, who’s the doll, Beck?” Larry leers at me. “Ain’t from around here. I can see that much.”
“I’m Sadie Halloran,” I say, my eyes sliding over his shabby suit. “Marguerite Thorne’s great-niece. You must be her former iceman.” I say the word with as much disdain for his station as I can muster.
Surprise lights his eyes. “Golly, Beck. You got high hopes, I see.”
“That’s enough, Larry.”
“Sure, sure.” He winks at me. “You ever want a man who can show you arealgood time, sugar, you just let me know. Maybe I’ll ask Hal to change my route again.”
“I’m plenty happy right here,” I say, smiling up at Beckett.
“Lucky dog.” Larry laughs, shaking his head. “Guess if a cripple can bed a dame like you, there’s hope for me, after all.”
Anger courses through me. I slap the man, hard, before I can stop myself, my palm hot as fire. My handprint blooms in red relief against his cheek. He glowers, takes a step toward me. “You little ...”
Beckett pushes me behind him, widening his stance. We’re drawing stares from the other dancers now. “Back off, Larry. You’ve had too much to drink.”
He shakes his finger at Beckett. “I’ll remember this. Mark my words. I will. We’ll settle up later.”
“Sure,” Beckett says, laughing. “Sure we will.”
The man stalks off, muttering beneath his breath.
“You didn’t have to do that, Sadie,” Beckett says, pulling me back into his arms. “Larry’s just a kid. He’s too big for his britches and doesn’t mean half of what he says.”
“Well, I couldn’t let him insult you like that.”
Beckett nuzzles my hair. “It’s not the first time someone has called me a cripple. It won’t be the last.”
A full-figured woman steps to the front of the band, her beaded silver dress gorgeous against her deep-brown skin. The music slows as she begins to croon with a soulful alto voice. Beckett and I rock together, my heartbeat settling into its usual rhythm. I kiss his neck, where his pulse beats softly. “What do you say we get out of here while the night’s still young?” I say.
“I’d like that.”
I lead him out of the hotel, and we drive away with the top down, letting the night air cool our skin. “There’s a spring here, nearby, isn’t there?” I let my hand stray to his knee. “Somewhere we can be alone?”
He glances over at me, that sly smile lifting his cheekbones. “Yes. There’s a spring nearby. But I know a better place, not too far from here.”
