his face, even if it had been four years since I’d taken in those kind eyes, that strong chin, the smile that had charmed me in an instant.
I almost didn’t meet him. I shouldn’t have met him, really. Charles was too good for me. High society. Everyone knew that. Everyone, perhaps, but him. He came from wealth, from privilege, too big a catch for a girl from the poor side of town, the daughter of a fisherman. But Caroline convinced me to join her that night for the opening of the fanciest hotel Seattle had ever seen, and there, beyond the polished double doors, he stood in the hotel’s grand foyer under the crystal chandelier, smoking a cigar as servants bustled, balancing heavy, hors d’oeuvres–filled trays aloft. Plenty of beautiful women fluttered in his sight, primped, curled, and powdered. And, yet, for a reason I still can’t understand, he looked only at me.
“Come on,” Caroline whispered.
I deflected his gaze, feeling foolish.
“Let’s sneak in.”
I frowned. “You know they’ll take one look at us and give us the boot.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Look at you in that gorgeous dress.” True, we were wearing our finest, and if you squinted, you might mistake our handmade dresses, perfect flapper attire, for a Chanel creation, but upon close inspection, the truth would shine through: two destitute nineteen-year-olds with little more than two pennies to pinch together.
I sighed. “All right,” I finally conceded. “As long as you don’t think we’ll get into any trouble.”
“Of course we won’t,” she said a little too confidently, reaching for my hand and dragging me toward the entrance.
A doorman eyed us suspiciously. “And you are?”
“I’m Miss Ella Wentworth and this is my debutante cousin, Gilda, from Atlanta,” Caroline said.
I batted my eyes, playing along, trying to suppress a laugh. Did she have to use the word debutante?
The man eyed his notebook. “I’m afraid I don’t see you on the list,” he said.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Caroline cooed. “Daddy will be very upset to hear. You do know who my father is, don’t you?”
The man shook his head.
“Alexander Wentworth,” she said. “Of Wentworth Real Estate.” Caroline looked up at the tall building. “He invested so much in this property. It’s a pity the guest list didn’t get sorted out properly.” She sighed, tugging at the gold chain around her neck. “I’ll have to talk to Daddy about that.”
“Wait—wait,” the man stammered. “I’m sure it’s only a misunderstanding. Please, come in, Miss Wentworth. And give our sincerest apologies to your father.”
“I will,” Caroline said, nodding regally, as we passed through the entrance and into the sparkling party. She swiped a flute of punch off a waiter’s tray and handed it to me before taking one for herself. “That,” she said, taking a sip, “is how it’s done.”
“Caroline,” I whispered, “you’re out of your mind.”
She giggled from behind her glass. “Oh come on—have a little fun.”
I shook my head. “I think we should go.”
She looked at me and threw back her head with a laugh. “And miss the best party of the season? I think not.”
I eyed the women around us, their collective finery. I wished I’d sewn an extra piece of fringe around the hem of my dress. It looked so plain next to yards of satin and lace. “We don’t belong here,” I whispered to her.
“Sure we do,” she said, unaffected by my insecurities. “And look over there.” She pointed to two men standing straight ahead, and I saw, again, the man who had made eye contact with me moments before. He gazed at me with a beckoning grin and I turned away quickly. “Should we go talk to them?” she continued, bobbing a curl flirtatiously with her hand.
“Caroline!” I pulled her arm and whisked her into the room to our left, where people hovered around a grand piano. “What has gotten into you?”
She grinned. “Look, let’s just have a little fun. Besides, I rather fancy the idea of spending the evening in the company of rich men.”
I shook my head. “I won’t stand here and—” I paused when I felt a tapping on my shoulder, only to discover the two men from the foyer.
The one in the gray suit smiled. “You won’t stand here and…? Do tell.”
I blushed. “Oh, nothing,” I muttered, sending Caroline a look of panic, but her eyes had already been swallowed up by the man’s friend.
“I’m Charles,” the taller of the two said, holding his hand out to me. I took it dutifully, but found that once our