Sorrento Girl Read online

  The room was loud, not ideal for conversation—a good thing for Ann since she suddenly felt shy sitting next to Paul. He was the kind of man around whom many women suddenly became either very shy or overly flirtatious. But he seemed unaware of the effect he had on women, which only added to his charm.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, and athletic-looking, his short dark hair was combed back with Brylcreem, and his handsome face was clean-shaven. He wore a black double-breasted dinner jacket with a black bow tie and a red scarf in his front pocket. A boyish smile and sparkling blue eyes added to his classic movie-star appearance.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

  “I’ll have one of those, thank you,” Ann replied, nodding toward the martini in Paul’s hand. As if on cue, a waiter came by the table, proffering a silver tray of martinis to Ann. She felt so grown up. As she took a sip, she tried her best not to betray the fact that this was the first martini she had ever tasted.

  “So, Ann, where are you from, and what brings you here?”

  A long way from this place. What would he think of her being an orchardist’s daughter from the country? She wanted to appear sophisticated and urban, like the other women at the table. But she’d go with the truth, come what may.

  “I’m from a small town in Central Washington, Wenatchee. I came to Seattle College to study education.” Keep it simple. She had yet to meet anyone else at Seattle College from her hometown. She was probably the only one.

  “Wenatchee, you say. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, though I’ve never visited it. I’m from Tacoma, but I’ve lived here for the last three years. This will be my final year at Seattle College. I’m a journalism major. How are you enjoying everything so far?”

  Just then, Helen walked over to the table, grinning and out of breath. She had been dancing the whole time they’d been there, and she was ready for a break. She pulled a chair over from a nearby table and joined the group.

  “Hello, everyone!” Helen was the kind of girl who never seemed to meet a stranger. She was at ease anywhere. Her presence was a welcome relief, as Ann had a feeling that Paul was going to ask her to dance—any minute—and she didn’t know what to say or do. Hopefully, Helen would offer a distraction.

  Introductions were made, once more. Helen’s enthusiasm was infectious. Soon, even Eunice and Kenny were laughing and talking with the group. Betty and Joyce, the other two women at the table, joined in the conversation too.

  But Paul was focused on Ann, alone. “Would you like to dance?”

  The dreaded question. Not because the person asking was dreadful. Quite the contrary. She wasn’t immune to his charms, but Ann liked to feel competent and in control. Dancing was not going to make her feel that way.

  “I don’t know how, but if you’d like to teach me—yes!” Ann’s breath caught. Had she actually agreed to dancing with him?

  Paul was a patient teacher, and Ann was a quick learner. They danced several songs together before returning to the table. Ann was having fun. Betty, suddenly paying more attention to Ann, quickly asked Paul if he would like to dance with her. Had Paul come to the dance with Betty? She hoped not. It was rude to monopolize someone else’s date, and Ann didn’t want to be guilty of that blunder.

  Ann searched for Peggy, Nora, and Helen. Spying Nora across the room, she made a beeline for her friend.

  Nora was visiting with several other women from the Sorrento but turned to Ann with a wink when she approached. “Who’s that man you were dancing with? And hey, I thought you couldn’t dance. You both moved great out there—he’s very handsome!”

  Ann smiled. “His name’s Paul, and I couldn’t dance until tonight—but he’s a good teacher.” Ann didn’t see Paul for the rest of the evening, much as she’d hoped to catch another dance with him. She told herself it didn’t matter, and she reminded herself that she wasn’t at college to meet a man anyway. Ann was there to study. She didn’t need any distractions.

  ***

  At school the next Monday, when she saw the sign-up sheet on the bulletin board in the administration building, Ann added her name to the list of students interested in learning more about writing for the student newspaper. It was called The Spectator. At the dance, Paul told her he was the editor. There would be a meeting for potential new writers in Room Six that Wednesday at two o’clock. She’d always enjoyed writing. It couldn’t hurt to find out more.

  On Wednesday, at three o’clock, when Ann arrived for work at the Delzer home, the children remarked at how pretty Ann’s hair was. Usually a low-maintenance kind of girl, Ann had taken extra care that day when getting ready, and she was wearing perfume.

  She had another activity to fit into her busy schedule. Ann was now a writer for The Spectator.

  Five

  September passed quickly, and the warm days that greeted Ann when she first arrived in Seattle gave way to the cooler ones of October. Gray skies and a non-stop drizzle had settled into the city, making the Fireside Room at the Sorrento a favorite gathering spot for students—those who resided there and those who wished they did. The luxurious room had a grand piano in one corner and a commanding fireplace surrounded by emerald green pottery tiles. Mahogany paneled walls and an abundance of cushy couches and chairs gave the place a feeling of warmth and comfort.

  Ann loved Seattle even more than she had in those first late-summer days. The blanket of gray that had descended served as a dramatic contrast to the oranges, reds, and yellows of the autumn foliage. The city had never seemed more beautiful to her than it did now.

  It was mostly dark in the mornings when Ann walked up Madison street for her first class of the day, and it was dark in the evenings when she returned from work. She was enjoying a full and busy life with school, meeting people, writing for the school newspaper—a favorite part of her days—and helping out with the Delzer household. The days were flying by. Evenings were often spent in the Fireside Room, reading, studying, chatting with friends, playing board games, or having a drink. Sometimes live musicians performed for them, and other times they listened to poetry readings.

  That evening, Helen and Ann were seated at a table near the fireplace, ostensibly doing homework, but mostly talking. “There’s a nightclub in Chinatown I’ve wanted to check out called The Black and Tan. They have the best jazz music in town. I think we should go this Saturday,” Helen said.

  “I’ve heard of it.” Ann glanced around the room. No one was paying attention to their conversation. “It sounds like a great idea, but we’re going to have to figure out a way to sneak past Ms. Patrick. We’ll be out way past curfew.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Do you think we can pull it off?” She didn’t want to get in trouble.

  “Of course! We’re here to have fun, not to stay in our rooms every night. Let’s invite Peggy and Nora too. We can pool our coins to pay for a cab.” The Black and Tan was a club on the corner of Twelfth and Jackson. It had started as a speakeasy during the days of Prohibition. It was called The Black and Tan because it was a place where all people were welcome—black white, and Asian. The trendy nightclub, known for hosting musicians such as Duke Ellington and Lena Horne, was located under a Japanese drugstore. Many Seattle College students had been to The Black and Tan. Attendance by the women required maneuvering around their house mothers’ regulations. Sanctioned social events mostly revolved around formal events, dances, and official student clubs.

  The “Coed Codebook” had an extensive list of rules for the women to abide by, and Ms. Patrick’s imposing presence had, so far, deterred the Sorrento Girls from testing the limits. Every night, she knocked on each door throughout the east wing of the hotel where the college women were housed. She did this to assure that the ladies were in their rooms by curfew. The men didn’t have such rules in their dormitories. This was something that chafed at Ann’s independent sensibilities. Though, until now, she had never had reason to push back.

  “What are we doing this Saturday?” Peggy asked as she took an empty seat and ploppe
d her books on the table. “I was hoping I’d have a date that night, but I don’t think it’s going to happen,” she said gloomily.

  “You, me, Helen, and Nora—let’s go listen to some music at the Black and Tan.” Ann paused and observed her friend. “What happened to your date, Peggy?”

  “Ethel is what happened. Look over there.” Peggy turned her gaze toward a couple standing near the bar. Ethel was flirting voraciously with Fred, a junior whom Peggy had met at the Floral Informal. They had gone on a couple of dates since then. Fred was a bore. Peggy would be better off without him, but Ann nodded sympathetically toward her friend.

  Helen shook her head. “Ethel flirts with all the guys. Don’t worry about her.”

  “The Black and Tan will be fun. I’m in. Ethel can have Fred. I’m not interested anymore.” Peggy didn’t sound very convincing with that last statement.

  ***

  Saturday night came, and Ann, Helen, Peggy, and Nora found their way to the club on Jackson street. As they’d heard from others, nothing much happened until after twelve o’clock, so they’d had no problem getting around Ms. Patrick’s curfew. They hadn’t even left their rooms yet when she did her nightly door checks. They waited until the woman had completed her rounds, then they quietly crept down to the lobby and walked out of the Sorrento. They quickly found a cab and squeezed into the back together, laughing and delighted that they’d met success in the first part of their venture.

  The part of the city where the club was located was alive with music and activity. The sidewalks outside were filled with a diverse crowd of merrymakers. A rainbow of colors originating with the neon lights above were mirrored on the dark wet streets below. The aroma of mince pies and hot peanuts from street vendors made Ann hungry. Music poured through various doorways as they walked past.

  When they arrived at The Black and Tan, they had to hike down three flights of stairs to enter the smoky, dimly lit club. People gathered around the glass block bar and at the small tables scattered around the perimeter of the crowded dance floor. A marquee sign on the wall announced that night’s featured musicians—Lionel Hampton and his band.

  Saxophone, drums, bass, piano, vibraphone, and trumpets were being played with a passion Ann had never quite observed before. Loud, fast, and skillfully performed, the band members seemed to be magically connected to the audience. The more the musicians gave to the music, the more the audience responded. It was a continuous, glorious loop that felt magical.

  Pure joy—that’s how the music sounded to Ann. The propulsive rhythmic feel made it impossible to hear and not want to dance. So, she did.

  She grabbed Nora and spun her around. The two of them kicked up their feet, moving to the beat and laughing at their lack of finesse on the dance floor. It didn’t matter—they were having fun. Peggy and Helen joined in. There were no barriers here between race, class, or age on this dance floor, and Ann loved the camaraderie and freedom. They danced with anyone and everyone. Strangers were suddenly friends. They danced until they were breathless, and their feet couldn’t take anymore.

  When at last they left the dance floor and found a place to rest, they realized it was two thirty in the morning—time to get back to the Sorrento. The women walked out of the club and up to the now quiet street.

  Peggy yawned. “Do you think there will be any cabs still out this time of the morning?”

  Several minutes passed with no sign of any passing cabs. It was chilly, and the rain was starting to come down in fat droplets. None of the women had thought through this part of their adventure very well. The four of them stood on the sidewalk, huddled together, as they pondered the unwelcome possibility that they might have to walk back.

  A red Plymouth turned the corner, and the vehicle slowed down as it approached the women. The driver rolled down the window. Paul poked his head out the window, and his friend from school, Joe McMurray, waved from the passenger seat. Paul grinned. “Hey, you girls need a ride home?”

  “Yes!” Helen said, raising her hands. “Thank you. Wow, we thought we might have to walk. I’m glad you showed up.”

  “Hello, Paul, Joe.” Ann said, shyly. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “No problem!” Joe got out of the car and held the door open for the ladies to pile into the backseat. Though Ann had been writing for The Spectator, her path had rarely crossed Paul’s in the past few weeks since she’d met him at the Olympic.

  Joe climbed back into the front seat, then turned around and grinned. “I’m glad we saw you. We were just at the Green Dot and were headed back to campus.”

  Everyone was in high spirits, joking and singing as they made their way back to the First Hill neighborhood. When they reached the Sorrento, Paul got out and walked the women to the front door of the lobby—locked!

  Nora stamped her foot. “Oh, applesauce!”

  Ann laughed at the funny expression she had never heard before. Peggy merely raised her hands up and shrugged. They were all in too good of a mood to really care. It was all part of the adventure.

  “What are we going to do now?” Nora asked, laughing at their predicament.

  “We’re going to have to wake someone up to come downstairs and let us in,” Ann said.

  Paul and Joe stayed nearby as the women crept around the east side of the building. Peggy picked up some small pebbles and began throwing them toward the second-floor windows. After a few tries, Ethel opened a window and peered out.

  “Can you let us in?” Helen whispered as loudly as she could.

  “Just a minute, I’ll be right down.” After a few minutes, Ethel was at the front door, wearing her bathrobe and a sleepy expression. “You owe me now,” she said with a wink. Ethel went back to her room, and the women said their goodbyes to Paul and Joe. But before he left, Paul pulled Ann aside.

  “I’m glad I got to see you again tonight,” Paul whispered to Ann.

  “Me, too.”

  “Would you like to go out to dinner with me next Saturday?”

  Ann tried her best to act cool while she nodded and smiled sweetly. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.” And with that, Paul waved goodbye.

  Ann closed the front lobby door and caught up with her friends. They all stared at her questioningly as she grinned.

  “We’re going out next Saturday!” whispered Ann.

  Was this really what she wanted?

  ***

  The four women missed breakfast the next morning. The dining room was already closed by the time Peggy, Nora, Helen, and Ann made their way up to the seventh floor. Being Sunday, many of the nearby stores and restaurants were closed as well. They were hungry, but it was a small price to pay for the fun time they’d had the night before.

  Helen’s stomach growled, and she gave her friends an embarrassed grin. “I think Bartell’s drugstore is open. Let’s see if we can get some coffee and cookies and bring them back here.”

  The morning sunlight glistened against a frost-covered world outside the Sorrento as the women walked along Madison. Not all of First Hill was opulent. There were certain areas of the neighborhood the women had been told to avoid. The Depression had touched everyone. Even many of the rich had found it necessary to cut back and make sacrifices, and some had lost everything. Not far from the mansions, homeless people slept in doorways. A vast shantytown called Hooverville existed near King Street Station. Malnourished children, barefoot and wearing rags, played in the streets.

  Though Ann had grown up poor, she’d always had enough to eat, unlike some. She had a comfortable home, and her father had consistently worked. Ann recognized her blessings, even before coming to Seattle. She was grateful, but she also worried a lot, craving a certain out-of-reach control over her life that she could never quite grasp. Not for the first time since arriving at school, Ann felt like an imposter, as if this life could be taken away at any moment.

  As a child, she’d been unaware of the inheritance waiting from her mother’s side o
f the family. To call herself an heiress, like the three other women with her right now, would be a considerable overstatement. There was just enough money— if she was careful— to get herself through school. She didn’t share the same sense of expectation and ease regarding her future that her friends had.

  Ann was at school because she wanted to be self-sufficient. She desired to work as a teacher and have a career. She was different from many of the other women at school. Most of them were there to have a good time and to meet a husband. Walking through the south end of First Hill was a reminder to Ann of what she wanted and what she didn’t want—and what she wanted probably didn’t include marriage.

  Six

  Paul Lewis treated his job as editor of The Spectator, the school’s newspaper, as seriously as if he were the editor of the New York Times. TENACITY, PASSION, CURIOSITY, and HONESTY were four words that he’d had painted in large letters on the wall over the door in the office, a constant reminder of the values he prized in his writers and strove for himself. Ann wanted to make a good impression on her editor, but so far, she’d only been assigned to cover a few social events. It was hard to be passionate about the topics or demonstrate her abilities when writing about teas and dances, but she did the best she could.

  She visited the office each day at lunchtime to eat, check on any new assignments that might be available, turn in drafts, and get feedback on those projects. Many of the students ate lunch at the office, bringing sandwiches and work so they could fit in their schoolwork, their activities, and still have time for a social life.

  The newspaper office was in a large busy basement room on the corner of Broadway and Marion street. It was filled with typewriters, phones, desks, a couple of couches, messy cabinets, bulletin boards, and full bookshelves. The radio in the corner was usually tuned to a jazz station during lunch. She liked it when Paul was there. He had a way of making her feel special—like she was the only girl he noticed.