“You should listen to me more often. I told you you’d be back on top in no time.”
“I know, I know,” I said, sprawled on the white sofa, Ruthie lying on her usual spot on the rug. She reached up and grabbed my hand.
“Let me try it on again,” she said, admiring my ring. “I think Lawrence is going to propose any day.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been telling him all about your engagement, how romantic it was. I think it’s got him thinking.” She smiled. “He would make such a good husband and a wonderful father.”
I sat up. “Do you want to have children?”
“Of course.” She laughed. “I can’t wait.”
“But what about the shows?”
“What about them?”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll be out the door so fast.”
“You’ll just quit?”
“Olive, can you imagine how nice it would be not to have to work so damn hard, not to have to watch our figures all the time? I’m going to learn how to cook and I’m going to play house all day longand, fingers crossed, it won’t be too long before I’ll have a baby. I’ve been planning for it since I was a little girl.”
I looked at her, baffled. “I thought you loved show business.”
“I do. But I’m going to love this so much more.” She took off my ring and looked at it from all angles, then gave it back. “It sure is a beauty.”
I slipped it back on my finger and felt a pang of envy shoot through me. How nice it must feel to have that kind of certainty and confidence in her womanhood. Outwardly I might come off as independent, appearing to demand respect, but inside I was questioning everything, inside I was starting to crumble.
Two long weeks later, Archie joined me once again in Manhattan. We celebrated our reunion with a night out and he was keen on introducing me to one of his friends in the art world.
“We should start thinking about our guest list,” Archie said as we walked to the waiting car outside the Plaza, an icy December chill biting our faces.
“Yes,” I said, although I was sharply aware that in the past two weeks I’d been avoiding the subject of the wedding, in my mind and in conversations with the girls.
“It doesn’t feel right to start planning a wedding without my mother,” I said, knowing full well that this wasn’t the only thing bothering me.
“Well, I need to meet your family, Olive. I have to ask for your father’s blessing, for heaven’s sake. We’re doing things terribly out oforder. It will certainly make me feel better to have things out in the open, and I’m sure it will make you feel better, too.”
“I know,” I said. “Of course we’ll tell them. Soon, maybe this weekend.”
But I knew I’d delay it as long as possible. I knew they’d be happy, no doubt about it, and that was the problem. It would make things better all around. My parents would be thrilled to meet Archie, a handsome, wealthy, responsible businessman who was willing to take on their wild and unruly daughter. This was exactly what they’d hoped for, and now that I was making it a reality, my father would no longer have to worry for me. I’d give in and get off the stage and he’d be getting exactly what he wanted, and he’d probably tell me that.
Ever since Archie’s announcement at his mother’s house, that he’d like me to stop performing, travel, see the world, I’d grappled with it. I loved Archie, but I didn’t like the idea of throwing in the towel on this life I’d so desperately wanted and worked hard for. And yet I understood what he meant: to be truly man and wife, we’d have to meld our lives together. How could we really do that if I was tied to the stage? I wondered. I knew deep down that I’d have to make changes for our life to work together, but I wasn’t ready to admit to anyone that I’d let it go.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject, “tell me something about your friends we’re going to meet tonight. What do I need to know?”
“Gertrude is an art collector too, far more invested than me, and she’s a sculptress also, though I haven’t seen her work, so I don’t know if she’s any good.”
“Is she going to abhor me too, because I’m a show girl?”
“Good Lord, no! Wait until you see her studio, she has a penchant for the young and unknown artists. She likes to seek them out and bring them to the surface. Her family’s very well-known, so she has the means to bring these struggling artists to the light. It’s really quite admirable.”
We walked into what I thought was going to be a small dinner party on West Eighth Street and MacDougal and found instead a throbbing soiree in what looked like a combined art studio and gallery.
“Gertrude,” Archie said after we removed our coats, “thank you so much for having us. This is Olive Shine, my fiancée.”
