Mother nodded, dismissing her, then rose to wander about the salon while Elsa remained seated. Single shoes were displayed on what looked like multitiered crystal cake stands. She picked oneof them up, a small smile curving her lips. It was a high-heeled, white satin slipper with a delicate ankle strap and gold buckle.
“Maybe they have your size,” Elsa said.
“Oh no.” Mother’s laugh was the flutter of butterfly wings, delicate and fleeting. “I don’t want this for myself. This is like the pair we bought Lauren for her coming-out ball, that’s all.”
Elsa’s mouth went dry. “I didn’t know she’d had one.”
Mother returned the shoe to its place. “It was never a secret, darling, but you were not in any shape to be bothered with anything that didn’t directly relate to your health at the time.”
That’s right. When Lauren was seventeen, she’d already been living with them full-time for two years. With Uncle Lawrence away, Lauren was like a daughter to Elsa’s parents.
“So you threw her a ball when she turned seventeen. While I was confined to my bed with polio.”
“Shh, come now.” Mother returned to the loveseat and sat. “You make it sound as though we went behind your back to do it. We had been planning it for a year, and staying home for the evening would not have made you any better. Besides, we couldn’t very well reschedule your cousin’s seventeenth birthday.”
Elsa heard a smile in her mother’s voice but didn’t look at her. Instead, she gripped her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze on that white shoe on its crystal stand, the likes of which Elsa never had and never would wear.
“Hotel Astor?” she asked.
“Naturally. It was no more lavish a party than what we would have thrown for you, too, if...” Her words trailed away, and yet their meaning burrowed into Elsa.If things had been different. If you had recovered enoughfor a ball of your own.“You must understand, Lauren is my only sister’s only child. Of course I would do for her whatever I thought she deserved. When we began planning her ball, you were eight years old and still healthy, and I assumed we’d do the same for you. By the time the ball took place the nextyear, you had been sick with that awful disease for six months. You were two months shy of your tenth birthday, and I couldn’t predict your future. I wondered if the ball for your cousin would be the only ball I’d ever get to throw. I didn’t want to miss it.”
A hard knot formed in Elsa’s throat. “And you were right. It was the only ball.” She could say more. She could say she hoped Lauren’s ball made Mother happy in a way Elsa never could. She could say it was ironic that Mother didn’t want to miss Lauren’s ball and yet had no problem missing months at a time from Elsa’s life.
She said nothing.
Mother fiddled with the clasp on her handbag. “You were still in the hospital at that point, and you weren’t allowed visitors except on Sunday afternoons. You never even missed us, darling. You had no idea we’d had a ball at all.”
A wave of heat washed through Elsa, pressure building behind her skull.
“Speaking of Lauren,” Mother went on, “I’ve offered to help plan her wedding while she’s away. She and Joe won’t want to wait long after she comes back from Egypt, and you know how early venues in Manhattan are booked. Now is the time to make reservations, and not only for the venue but catering, florist, musicians, all of it.”
“That sounds exhausting. Are you sure Lauren and Joe want all that?”
Mother blinked at her. “Even a simple affair requires planning and organization, and Joe has his investigations to conduct for the police. Lauren is grateful for my help, and I’m only too glad to give it.”
Elsa had no doubt about that. Lauren had likely been too busy preparing for Egypt to bother with wedding planning during the months before she left. And Mother—well, if she’d enjoyed planning a coming-out ball, she would love planning a weddingeven more, especially since she might not get to plan one for her own daughter, despite her matchmaking attempts.
What would Mother do without Lauren?
Elsa pressed a hand to the throbbing behind her brow. “If you plan hers, will you leave off hoping you can plan mine one day? Could we stop with the matchmaking dinners?”
Mother cut her a sharp gaze and, in an uncharacteristic show of sentiment, placed a hand on Elsa’s knee. “This has nothing to do with you, Elsa. Lauren is not now, has never been, and will never be a substitute for you. Lauren is my niece. It’s only right that I fill in for what my sister would have done, if she still lived. But you are my only daughter. Do you hear me?”
Elsa heard her. But the words didn’t relieve the bruises inside her.
Mother removed her hand, clasping it once more in her lap. “I planned to ask if you’d like to join me in checking out the options for Lauren and Joe. I have good taste, but that isn’t enough. I’ll need someone to help me keep track of all the details. You do enjoy details, don’t you?”
A wry smile tipped Elsa’s lips. “Depends on the details.”
Before they could discuss it further, Bette returned with four boxes of shoes.
“Let’s see them all before we start trying on,” Mother said.
Kneeling on the carpet, Bette lifted all the lids.
“Take that one away. She’s twenty-six, not sixty-two.”
“Of course.”
