Alberto hurried on, thinking I hadn’t understood. “All the travel, the hotels, the everything, it will be arranged for you, Olive. Your only concern is to get yourself on the ship to Southampton, five days of luxury travel, and don’t forget to bring your beautiful voice.”
“I don’t understand. You said everything was booked up. That I’d meet your booker in the spring.”
“It is booked. It was. But I think of an opportunity, for you, because I don’t like to hear about you in these nightclubs, it is, how do you say”—he placed his hand toward the floor, looked into my eyes and spoke very seriously—“sotto di te. Low, too low. And there, Olive, the money is very good, better than you ever see here. Because you perform with me, and in Europe I have the big name already.”
Touring Europe with Alberto Ricci was an opportunity I could have only dreamed about a few years earlier. It could put my career on a whole new path. If I was well received, I could be taken seriously, seen not just as an aging show girl but as someone who could really sing. It was an opportunity anyone would grasp with both hands and never let go, but other thoughts were drowning me, blocking the possibility from entering my head.
I was thinking of Addie, here in New York; she’d be living in the same city as me. I didn’t know if my father would ever let me in the house again, but I’d be closer to her, and somehow I had to find a way to be part of her life.
And then there was Archie, who had never really left me despitehis absence. I knew it was over, I knew he’d moved back to Cincinnati, and he was engaged again to the other woman. But leaving? Leaving felt impossible. Leaving felt final.
“Olive?” said Alberto. “You don’t say something? This ismolto, molto bene,” he said, using his hands. “We sing like we sing on the lake. You say yes.”
“Thank you so much, Alberto. What an incredible opportunity,” I said, forcing a smile. “You are so kind, so generous. This is just the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“You say yes?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I said.
A chill took over my whole body, and I had the immediate thought to take back my acceptance of his offer. Regret and remorse were seeping into every inch of my being. Don’t be a fool, I told myself, you need this money to survive. Do you really think they’re going to let you be part of Addie’s life after you’ve already made such a mess of things? I was beating myself down with questions, torment running through my veins as Alberto sat across from me. They’ll disown you, I continued to tell myself. You’re unfit. You’re unfit to be a mother. Leaving is the best thing you can do for the child.
Alberto drank down the rest of his bourbon and finished off the last of his corned beef, looking pleased, satisfied.
“Bene,”he said finally, wiping his mouth with his napkin and setting it on the table. “It’s October. You come pronto. We have to rehearse. We have to domolto, moltowork. The tour starts in one month. I leave tomorrow with Chester. We send you your ticket, but to where?”
“Probably best to send it to the club,” I said, thinking the less explaining I had to do to the nuns the better.
“And you come pronto.Capisci?”
“Capisco.”I nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. “I can’t wait.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
We crammed into Ruthie’s living room a week and a half later. I’d already taken a few nips from my flask on the way over, reluctant to show my face, knowing that Pauline, Lara, Gladys and Lillian would be there along with a few others from theFollies. I couldn’t avoid them forever, I knew that, but I still wasn’t ready to be bombarded by all their questions about Archie.
Ruthie’s baby was lying quietly in the bassinet, and I tried to make a fuss over him, but it only seemed to make me feel worse. Ruthie picked him up, a natural already, leaning in and kissing his cheek.
“Do you want to hold him?” she asked. “He’s a real snuggler.”
“He seems so calm with you, I don’t want to upset him,” I said.
“Oh no, he’s such a happy baby.” She handed him to me, carefully transferring him into my arms, making sure I was supporting his head, and I sat down on the sofa. He felt so delicate—the warmthand weight of him were surprising. He wriggled slightly, getting comfortable in my arms, and I felt overwhelmed to feel the life in him, overcome with longing.
“Ruthie,” I said after a few moments in an urgent whisper, “take him, please. I had a drink on the way over, I shouldn’t—”
“All right,” she said calmly, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “You’re fine, Olive, he likes you.” Then she slowly took him from me.
I wanted to curl up and disappear. I didn’t trust myself even to hold a baby. But, truthfully, no one really seemed as eager to hold the baby as they were to crowd around Ruthie. At first, they were fascinated by her appearance—she was beaming as she laid him down again in the bassinet—and the way her waist had nearly returned to its former glory. They marveled at her delicate cheekbones. Next, they peppered her with questions about giving birth, as if she were the first woman to do such a thing. Hearing Ruthie speak of her delivery brought the drama of Addie’s back in force, but while Ruthie’s sounded celebratory, mine felt wrapped in shame.
I hurried off to the kitchen to regain my composure but didn’t have a chance—it was my turn to be swarmed and interrogated.
“What the heck happened?” Pauline asked, following after me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, stalling, realizing too late that I should have prepared a response about the halted wedding, something to say to shut them all up. But I barely seemed able to put one foot in front of the other lately, much less think through what they might want to know and make up a story. Several girls were around us by now.
“With Archie,” she said.
“I wasn’t in love with him,” I said coldly. “And he wasn’t in love with me.”
