Sorrento Girl Page 17

  “I get that. But promise me you’ll let yourself have some fun this year too.”

  Ann laughed. “I promise!”

  “So, what did you think of Andrew? Cute?”

  “Definitely. I think you should give him a chance.”

  It was time to get ready for dinner when the women got back to the Sorrento. Ann stopped by the front desk and picked up her mail. Glancing through it, she saw there was a letter from Paul. She could feel her heart racing as she took a deep breath and tucked the envelope into her handbag. It would have to wait. She wanted to be alone when she read it.

  Twenty-Nine

  Dear Ann,

  Thank you for your kind words about my article. Are you still writing for the school newspaper? I miss those days of working together on The Spectator. I miss our friendship. I miss you.

  My time at The Oregonian was short-lived, as my last day on the job will be tomorrow. I never even got around to furnishing the apartment. I used a sleeping bag on the floor the whole time I was there. I’ve accepted a position as a reporter with the Associated Press. I will be working out of the New York office. My current boss is the person I have to thank for setting it all up. He recommended me, nice guy. He said the experience would do me some good and that I’d be welcome back anytime. The new job will involve a lot of travel, which has always been something I’ve wanted to do—see the world. With the war in Europe, there will be a lot of stories to tell.

  I will send you an address where you can reach me, as soon as I know what it is. I hope you’ll write.

  Love,

  Paul

  ***

  Ann sat on the edge of her bed in stunned silence after reading the letter. He was moving on. She knew she should be happy for him. It was, no doubt, a dream job for Paul, and she was happy, sort of—but it also sounded dangerous. Then there was the final sentence. I hope you’ll write.

  Yes, I’ll write back. And she would pray for his safety. Every day.

  When Helen returned to the room later that night, Ann kept the news to herself. She knew her friend would have questions. Ann had her own. Was it normal to be corresponding with an ex-fiancé? Was their relationship being rekindled? Was it wrong to want something like that? She didn’t know the answers. Ann only knew that she felt a tender happiness and a growing sense of hope.

  ***

  Mrs. Lewis was at Mass on Sunday, settled in near the front. Ann was sitting with her friends in the back when she noticed her. It was right after the “Kyrie Eleison.” Elegant, as always, Elizabeth Lewis was unmistakable, even from behind. There she was, her white hair perfectly coiffed under a small purple hat.

  Ann’s pulse quickened, and a dizzy feeling came over her. She’d only seen Paul’s grandmother at St. James on one other occasion in all the time she’d been attending, and never, since the day she’d walked away from her wedding. Of course, this had always been a possibility, one that had nearly prompted Ann to return to First Presbyterian, for good. In the end, Ann had decided to stick with her commitment as a Catechumen. She wanted to continue what she had started.

  Not sure if Mrs. Lewis had seen her, Ann’s thoughts raced through various scenarios of how it might go when, or if, she came face to face with the woman who would have been her grandmother-in-law. Ann nudged Helen and wordlessly used her eyes to communicate her current predicament, nodding toward the place where Mrs. Lewis was seated.

  Helen’s eyes widened with shock when she realized what Ann was showing her. “What are you going to do?” Helen whispered.

  “I guess, I’ll just say hello.”

  “You could sneak out …”

  “There’s more chance of her seeing me if I do that—and then she’ll know, for sure, that I’m purposely avoiding her.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. People call off weddings every day.”

  Ann appreciated her friend’s attempt at making her feel better. She gave Helen a wry smile, which soon turned into a stifled laugh. No, Ann didn’t do anything wrong, but the absurdity of the latter part of that statement was too funny. Yes, maybe people called off weddings, every once in a while—but she certainly didn’t know anyone else who had run away, like she had, right before they were set to walk down the aisle.

  Helen looked at Ann, and recognizing the humor of it, covered her mouth to keep from giggling herself. “I’m glad you can smile about it now!”

  It felt good to laugh about it. Ann squeezed Helen’s hand. I can handle this situation with grace. Mrs. Lewis was a lady of dignity and good manners. There was no need to worry about her saying anything ugly, even if the woman did have resentment toward her, and Ann wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  Ann had never wanted to hurt her grandson. Yet, she had. But Mrs. Lewis wasn’t the type to air her grievances in public. The thing was, Ann didn’t want Mrs. Lewis to think badly of her. She respected the woman too much. If there were any ill feelings against her, Ann would try to make it right.

  When the service was over, Ann didn’t hurry away from the church to avoid Paul’s grandmother. Instead, she lingered near the door. When Mrs. Lewis walked out into the sunshine of that September morning, Ann nervously nodded and smiled at the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Lewis. It’s lovely to see you.”

  “Ann! How wonderful to see you, dear. How are you?” Elizabeth Lewis offered nothing but warmth as she reached out and took Ann’s hand.

  “Very well, thank you, and you?” It wasn’t the time or place to go beyond basic pleasantries.

  “Excellent,” Mrs. Lewis said with a nod and a smile. “I must go. My driver is waiting, but I’m pleased to see you. You look well. Have a wonderful day.” And with that, she continued walking down the front steps toward her car. The potentially awkward encounter was over, and all was well.

  Ann breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  ***

  It was October before Ann heard from Paul again. He’d barely landed in New York before being sent on assignment to London. England had declared war on Germany, but so far, much to Ann’s relief, there had been no military action. Paul’s latest letter was short and newsy, but he signed it, love. She wasn’t sure what to make of the unanswered questions of where this relationship stood, which suited her just fine. Paul was busy, enjoying his new job, and Ann was also working hard—with an extra full load of classes. She was content with focusing on school and corresponding with Paul through the mail.

  Ann was on her way to the science building—her thoughts on Paul—on a Friday morning when she happened upon Pete, the basketball player from the ice cream shop that Helen had tried to set her up with.

  He grinned, waved, and pushed up his glasses when he saw her. “Hey, Ann! How are you?” he said, falling into step beside her.

  “Pete! Hello. Are you coming to game night at the Sorrento tonight? We need a Scrabble rematch.”

  “Oh? Sure. What time is it?” Pete was the only person who had ever beat Ann at the game, and she was determined to win back her bragging rights as the champion Scrabble player among the friends who’d been meeting in the Fireside Room on Friday nights.

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there. Then you’ll know my win wasn’t just a fluke,” Pete teased. “Do you have a class in this building?”

  Ann laughed. “We’ll see about that. And yes, I do. Biology.”

  “That’s my major! If you ever want any help, just let me know.”

  “Thanks! I’ll probably take you up on that. This is my room,” Ann said, gesturing to the nearest door. “I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  After dinner, the Fireside Room began to fill up with students. Small groups started to organize around tables, starting board games such as Monopoly, Scrabble, chess, and Sorry. The Fireside Room at the Sorrento had become a favorite place for students to meet. It was usually crowded, and tonight was no exception.

  Coming down from the dining room with her friends, Ann glanced about and decided she probably had time to run upstairs
and write a quick letter to Paul. “Nora, can you please save me a seat at the Scrabble table? And maybe one for my friend Pete too? I’ll be right back. I have to get something in the mail before the morning pickup.”

  It was nearly eight before Ann came back downstairs. She’d lost track of time. Walking into the lobby to drop her letter off at the front desk, Ann saw Andrew and Pete come in through the front door together. Pete waited for Ann while she exchanged the outgoing message for her incoming mail. There was just one letter. The return address on the small crisp envelope indicated it was from Elizabeth Lewis. Ann opened it quickly, curious as to its contents. It was an invitation to tea next Saturday at three.

  “That’s curious,” Ann said, to no one in particular.

  “Oh? Tell me!” Pete said, before turning red and apologizing. “Sorry. I’m nosy. Never mind.”

  Ann looked at Pete, considering. She wanted to tell someone. She’d remained secretive around her girlfriends about the correspondence with Paul, embarrassed at the thought of them thinking of her as fickle. Pete was a neutral friend in all of this. He didn’t even know Paul.

  “It’s an invitation to tea with my ex-fiancé’s grandmother.”

  “Wow, this sounds like a story I need to hear,” Pete said, raising an eyebrow.

  Ann tucked the letter into her skirt pocket and laughed. “I’ll tell you. But first, let’s see if we can still get a place at the table for Scrabble.” Her friends had probably started without them after all this time.

  The tables were full, so Ann and Pete found a spot near the fireplace and waited for the next round. Pete turned to Ann. “Okay, now tell me everything. You have an ex-fiancé? And why is his grandmother summoning you to tea?”

  Pete was a good listener. Ann told him everything. They forgot about playing Scrabble, and instead, talked for hours. People noticed, and she could surmise what they were thinking, but Ann didn’t care.

  ***

  Tea was served in the library at Mrs. Lewis’s home on Saturday. Ann sat nervously on the edge of her chair, ankles crossed, hands in her lap, feeling like a child summoned to the principal’s office. Ordinarily, Ann thought she was good at reading people, but Elizabeth Lewis had always been the exception to that rule. She had no idea what was about to transpire.

  The fireplace held a warm crackling fire that gave the grand room a hint of coziness, in spite of the grand scale of the vaulted ceiling and the imposing stone gargoyles that flanked each side of the French doors. Paul’s grandmother sat across from Ann. She took a sip of tea from a delicate china cup and watched as Pepper, her butler, opened the curtains. The action did very little to lighten the darkness. Outside, the rain poured down in sheets from a steel-gray sky.

  When Pepper left, Elizabeth set down her teacup and nodded at Ann, her eyes serious. “Ann, dear, I invited you here today because I wanted to clear the air. I want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, there are no hard feelings. I want the best for both you and Paul.”

  Ann felt every part of her relax at that moment. She realized then that she could trust, from then on, that Paul’s grandmother was one of the kindest, most forgiving, and open-hearted individuals she knew. She was happy for Paul that he had someone like Mrs. Lewis on his side.

  Thirty

  The gymnasium was hot, crowded, and noisy. The tension was thick. The Seattle Chieftains were tied with the Italian Athletic Club 15-15 in the last two minutes of the game. Ann and Nora had both become basketball fans that season. They were at every home game. Ann started going because Pete had asked her to, and as his friend, she thought it was a supportive gesture. He was the team’s power forward. A talented and upcoming star, he had plenty of fans to cheer him on at the games, but Ann knew her presence meant something to him.

  They’d developed a close friendship over the past few months, linked by a shared sense of humor and an easy rapport, along with some commonalities in their backgrounds. Pete, like Ann, came from Eastern Washington, and he’d also been raised around the orchards. Most people at the school thought they were dating, but it wasn’t like that. Pete was more like a brother, and he saw her in a similar light. It was nice to have an escort to the dances without the pressure of dating. She was receiving letters from Paul and writing back—and she’d finally let Peggy, Nora, and Helen in on the secret.

  Pete had the ball. The clock was running out. He reached up and took his shot. Swoosh. Into the net. The crowd went wild. The buzzer went off, and the tension was gone. The Chieftains had won!

  After the game, Pete and a couple of his friends were coming by the Sorrento to hang out. There would be a jazz band playing that night in the Fireside Room. Ann and Nora decided to wait around and walk back with Pete and his friends rather than alone. The streets were dark and icy, and the girls were both wearing entirely inappropriate footwear for the weather.

  Exuberant from the recent win, the group came into the lobby of the hotel laughing and pink-cheeked from the cold air. Ann was still clutching Pete’s arm as she had been doing on the walk back. He’d managed to keep her from falling, in spite of the flimsy saddle shoes she’d been wearing. Sitting in a chair by the elevator, much to Ann’s surprise, sat Paul. Handsome as ever. Ann’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He’d been waiting for her. The expression on his face when he saw her with Pete was unmistakable. He’d misunderstood everything.

  Ann stopped in her tracks. “Excuse me, everyone. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Paul stood and greeted Ann stiffly. “Hello. Sorry to interrupt. I was hoping to talk to you for a moment.”

  “I’m so happy to see you! I didn’t know you were back in Seattle. When did you return?” It was then that Ann noticed how sad and tired Paul appeared. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale.

  “It’s my grandmother. She passed away last week. Peacefully. In her sleep. There will be a memorial service on Monday. I thought you might like to know.”

  Ann gasped. “I’m so sorry, Paul. I’ll be there.” She reached out to hug him, but Paul stepped back.

  “Thank you. I know she cared about you.” Paul gave a weak smile. “I need to go now. Have a good evening.” Then he walked out the front door.

  Ann had thought often over the past months about what it would be like to see Paul again. She’d missed him. This situation was not how she’d imagined it.

  ***

  Elizabeth Lewis’s memorial service was on Monday, January 15, 1940, at St. James Cathedral. She had lived a full and productive life until the age of ninety-five. A widow for the last twenty-five years, she remained, until her final days, a powerful scion of Seattle society. She had marched with the Suffragettes, and much to Ann’s surprise and delight, had been one of the organizers behind Amelia Earhart’s 1933 visit to Seattle—the very one that had also first brought Ann to Seattle as a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old.

  Ann credited that experience as one that had set a course for where she was today. It had inspired her. Ann read about Paul’s grandmother in the program she had been given as she’d entered the sanctuary. She realized that the woman hadn’t talked about herself much. Ann wished that she could have had more time to get to know her better. On the back of the program was a quote that Ann thought was quite fitting in the way it described Elizabeth Lewis.

  “A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves.” ~ Amelia Earhart

  Ann sat by herself toward the back. She planned on blending in with the large crowd of mourners who had come to pay their last respects to Mrs. Lewis. Paul was sitting in the front with his family, and she’d give him his space today. They could talk later. Hopefully, Ann would be able to clear up any misunderstanding. She hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on his face when he’d seen her with Pete. It played out like a bad record stuck on repeat.

  The service was lovely but sad. Ann knew this loss
had deeply hurt Paul. She could see him sitting next to his parents. The two of them had disconnected from him long ago, so caught up in their problems that they’d been oblivious to the fact that they had a son, a son who still loved them but had ceased expecting anything in return. As far as his family was concerned, Paul seemed very much alone now. His grandmother had been a steady rock in his life. Even Ann had let him down.

  ***

  It wasn’t until Monday afternoon that Ann saw Paul again. He’d left a message for her at the Sorrento, inviting her to meet him for coffee at a diner on Madison street. Ann arrived first. She sat in a booth near the window and watched as people passed by clutching umbrellas, stepping over puddles, and tucking books underneath coats, trying to avoid the downpour that had been consistent for the past week.

  Arriving ten minutes late, Paul apologized as he slid into the booth across from Ann. He took off his hat and set it next to him on the seat, smiling at the waitress at the same time as she walked over to take their order. That smile could make any girl melt. It had certainly worked on Ann, and now she wanted that warmth directed at her again.

  “Two coffees, please, black. Thank you,” Paul said.

  He knew the way she liked her coffee, her favorite flowers—pink roses—and the meaning of countless little things, like the way she straightened up to her full height and raised her left eyebrow when she was holding back on something she wanted to say.

  And she knew him. He was, above all, a gentleman, and he would never be anything but cordial with her, even if he were upset. But when he spoke in staccato sentences and bit the bottom corner of his lip like he was doing now, something was wrong. They shared some of the same reserved Nordic character traits common among those in the Pacific Northwest.

  Ann was sitting as if an invisible string was pulling her toward the ceiling.

  After the waitress poured some coffee and left, Ann took a deep breath. She’d be honest, speak her mind, and explain the best she could. “I’m not sure where we stand right now, but I know when I open a letter from you and read your words, it’s the best part of my day. I know we’ve both moved on from the hurt of our failed engagement and that something new seemed to be happening with us. I want you to know that I don’t have feelings for anyone else but you. Pete—the guy you saw me with—is just a friend.”