“Why?”
She couldn’t answer right away. When the knot in her throat dissolved, she said, “When people react—even if it’s just a second look—it reminds her that I’m different. I think she’s embarrassed by how I turned out. Or at the very least, disappointed. It’s humiliating.” And it was easier to be angry than feel that kind of hurt.
“One of my most vivid memories from childhood was when my parents took me to Coney Island,” she went on. “I was ten and a half years old, so this was about fourteen months after I contracted polio. Despite my progress with physical therapy, they knew walking all day would be too much for me. So they rented a wicker rolling chair for me to ride in along the boardwalk. Oh, the stares we drew that day. Several people assumed that I had a mental disability as well as physical. The things they said within our hearing made that crystal clear. Some asked my parents what was wrong with me as if I couldn’t understand them and speak for myself. I don’t remember what my parents said, but I do know we didn’t stay as long as I’d expected we would. I was convinced I embarrassed Mother and Father.”
“Surely that’s not true,” Ivy insisted. “Your parents wouldn’t have taken you out in the first place if that were the case. And your mother wouldn’t have suggested shopping with you today if she was embarrassed about your limp.”
Elsa couldn’t deny that. But that wasn’t all she’d been stewing over since leaving the store. “While we were waiting for the saleswoman to return, Mother mentioned that she and Fatherhad thrown Lauren a coming-out ball while I was sick. It’s not that I think they shouldn’t have done it. And I’m not jealous about it—I never wanted a ball, anyway.”
Ivy’s brows drew together. “I didn’t have one, either. But if you aren’t jealous, what is it that has you upset?”
Elsa combed through her waves again, trying to dissect her feelings, which was far more complicated than skinning a bird. At length, she put the comb back in the drawer and fought the urge to knock it shut. “She said that I never missed them. She said I never knew they were gone.”
“The night of the ball,” Ivy clarified.
“That’s what she meant, I’m sure.” Elsa turned off the light and moved into the parlor, where she flopped onto the sofa. Cleo, Lauren’s cat, jumped on the cushion and bumped her head into her arm until Elsa petted her. “And she was obviously right. But her choice of words fired something in me. I spent much of my childhood missing them. I did know they were gone. Or rather,Iwas gone. I spent seven months in a stark hospital room and was only allowed visitors during a two-hour window on Sundays. That was the hospital’s rule, but as a child, alone and scared, I missed my parents and Lauren keenly. After I came home, it took several more months of physical therapy for me to learn how to walk again. Once I did, they sent me to a boarding school. I had no idea why. We’d never talked about boarding school before that point. I couldn’t help but feel that I was being punished when they sent me away. Did they think I wouldn’t miss them then, either?”
At least when she went to Vassar in Poughkeepsie for college, she had been old enough to realize it was for a good education in biology, superior to what New York City schools were offering women. Still, she had had to remind herself that she was not being sent away again. She had chosen that path for herself.
Ivy sat beside her, rubbing a comforting circle on her back, and guilt snaked through Elsa. Here she was, talking aboutmissing her parents when she was a child, though she had more than enough attention from them now—while Ivy’s parents and brother died of illness when she was a teenager.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. How petty I sound. How unreasonable. Please, forget I said anything about it.”
“Sorry, no can do. I won’t forget about it, and please don’t apologize. I want you to always feel like you can talk to me. Is there anything that would make you feel better?”
Elsa thought for a moment. She had seen Archer in passing at the museum yesterday morning before she’d gone to Elmhurst. After she’d told him about the hunt for the missing aviary, he mentioned another hunt was taking place in Central Park. A Eurasian eagle-owl named Zeus escaped his enclosure at the Central Park Menagerie this week, thanks to some mischief-maker who cut through the mesh wire cage. Authorities were actively trying to find him.
She told Ivy about Zeus and added, “I’d really like to go looking for him in the park, too. Apparently, his former keepers don’t believe he can fly or hunt for himself. But I’m rooting for him. Wouldn’t it be exciting if we see him?” Zeus belonged to one of the largest owl species in the world. With a wingspan of six feet, it would be easier to spot in flight, but the owl would likely be perched high on a branch somewhere until hunting time came at twilight.
“Sounds like an adventure. Would dinner be involved?” Ivy wiggled her eyebrows.
Elsa laughed. “You mean pushcart hot dogs in the park? You bet.”
CHAPTER
7
TARRYTOWN
MONDAY, AUGUST 30, 1926
Elsa and Ivy had not spotted the Eurasian eagle-owl in Central Park over the weekend, but arriving at Elmhurst this morning at dawn rewarded her with sightings of migrating waterfowl on the Hudson. She also found Tatiana on her knees in the Italianate garden.
“Why, Elsa!” The gardener wiped her hands on a kerchief. “I didn’t expect to see you this time of day.”
Elsa smiled. “I figured I’d get an early start, but I should have accounted for the fact that the mansion would still be locked. Between you and me, I’m delighted to have a good reason to simply enjoy the morning for a bit.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re locked out, if only for a chance for a quick visit. You don’t mind if I keep planting these bulbs?”
“Not at all. You’re getting the bed ready for spring?” Elsa hoped that meant she’d still be here next year.
“I normally save this task for next month, but since I have no idea where Danielle and I will be by then, I thought I might give it a try early. If it doesn’t work, I won’t be around next spring to know it. If it does, whoever is here will enjoy them.” A sad smilecurved her lips. “Truth is, I’m plain restless. And right now I’d rather plant something than rip out weeds. There’s something so hopeful about sowing for the next season, isn’t there?”
Elsa understood that, even though she’d never been a gardener herself. While Tatiana dug holes and planted the bulbs, they spoke of nature’s seasons, of dormancy and promise, of bird migrations, and of finding a home. “Speaking of which, have you been able to speak to anyone from the county yet?” Elsa asked. “About staying on after the ownership of the estate transfers?”
“Not yet.” The older woman sighed. “I did send a letter to the executor of Mrs. Van Tessel’s will, though. My hope is that he’ll be able to tell me our home is safe, as per her wishes, regardless of what Mr. Spalding does with his inheritance.”
“That’s a good place to start,” Elsa agreed. “Please let me know what you learn from him, won’t you?”
