“Libby,” he said tenderly as he held me. He, like so many of his class and generation, was not an affectionate man, but when it came to me, he bent his rules. “You are such a sight for my weary eyes, daughter.”
I kissed his whiskered cheek, noting the extra lines around his eyes. He was a handsome man, though age and the cares of life had thickened his middle and greyed his hair.
“How is your mother?” he asked as he pulled back to look at me, concern on his face.
“They’re just bringing her in on the stretcher.” If Mother had been fully aware, she would have been mortified at the idea of entering her home in such a way.
“Is Dr. Payne with her?”
“Yes. He met us at the harbor.”
“Good. He’ll see to her needs, with Gertie’s help.”
Though Father and Mother had been at odds with each other for years, it was obvious he still cared for her. How could he not? They’d been married for almost three decades.
The house was just as we’d left it. Its thick, ornate woodwork, heavy draperies, and countless bric-a-brac collected from all over the world made it gaudy. There was no warmth or hominess to the eighteen thousand square feet, but it was familiar, and it felt nice to be back.
The house smelled of fresh polish and lemon oil, though the air was stale as we stood in the entrance hall. There was an echo that had always haunted me as a child and made me feelsmall and alone. Behind Father loomed the oversized stairway that gleamed from the polish it received daily, making it dangerously slick.
A footman was the first to enter behind me. He held the door open as the ambulance drivers carried Mother in on the stretcher, Dr. Payne close beside her.
A maid materialized from the side of the room and showed the men where to take Mother.
“She’s asking to speak to you,” Dr. Payne said to Father.
Father nodded and started to follow the entourage. I also followed, but Dr. Payne shook his head. “Only your father, I’m afraid.”
I remained in the entrance hall as everyone filed past me, feeling helpless and responsible.
“It’s good to see you again, Miss Libby.” Pierson, our butler, came to take my hat and gloves. He had always been one of my favorite people.
I smiled at him. “And you, Pierson.”
Mrs. Hanson, our housekeeper, also stood nearby with a ready smile for me. “Your room is ready, if you’d like to rest.”
“I think I will. Please send Edith up when she arrives.”
“Very good.”
Pierson bowed, his warm brown eyes kind. “We’re very happy you’re home.”
The house ran on a staff of several dozen. Pierson and Mrs. Hanson had been with us since I was a child. It was like coming home to family.
I walked up the staircase in my mother’s wake and went to my room. It faced Fifth Avenue and had a view of William Tecumseh Sherman’s statue and the trees of Central Park. There should have been some sort of warmth or comfort in entering my cavernous bedroom, but this home held few good memories. In many respects, it had been an ornate prison, somewhat like the gilded birdcages Mother kept in the drawing room. Mysurroundings were lovely, but I was not free to fly beyond its confines. I was expected to be beautiful and to perform for the world to see, but I was not allowed to soar as I was meant to soar.
I took off my hat, setting it upon my vanity, and went to the window. Everywhere I looked, there was movement. Even the sky teemed with birds circling above Central Park. I did not love the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, the noise, the smells, or even the view. I longed to be in Williamsburg, looking out at the slower pace of Duke of Gloucester Street. The colors were always brighter, the sounds more cheerful, and the people friendlier. The two cities could not be more different.
A knock sounded at my door.
“Come in,” I called, expecting Edith to enter, but it was my father. “Is all well?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Truly?” Deeper concern filled my gut as I walked across my room. “What is wrong?”
“Dr. Payne said she’s had quite a shock.”
“A shock?”
