The Dollhouse - Fiona Davis Page 0,87
the napkin on her lap and removed her gloves. Every gesture was careful and precise, as if she were a doctor in an operating room.
“Now, Darby. What’s going on with you?”
“Well, I’ve been struggling, to tell you the truth. With the classes, the teachers.” Why mince words? Better to be quick, like pulling off a Band-Aid. “And now I’ve been expelled from Katharine Gibbs.”
Mother’s eyes closed briefly. An unnerving stillness settled over her. “Why?”
“I never fit in there. And for a while I thought I was doing all right. But the classes were awful and boring and I don’t want to do that with my life.”
“You’ve only been there two months. I spent all that money and you couldn’t even be bothered to try?” The pitch of her voice rose, never a good sign. “Because you found it boring? The program takes less than a year, for God’s sake. We’ll go to the school right after lunch and I’ll explain that you must stay on.”
“They made it clear I can’t go back. The letter of expulsion was mailed to you two days ago.”
Mother slammed her hand down on the table, making the silverware jump. “You’ve wasted your father’s insurance money. It’s gone. There is no refund. Do you remember, when we talked about you coming here, that there was no refund?”
The waiter came with their food, two plates of wobbly green Jell-O mold in which slices of olives, celery, and cheese floated, garnished with lettuce and tomato.
“I’m sorry about the money. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
“And how exactly will you do that?”
“I made a friend, a wonderful friend, named Esme. She works at a jazz club and we sang together and people really raved. Yesterday I went to the club and spoke with the owner, and he said I could start work there as a waitress tomorrow.”
She didn’t mention how her legs had gone liquid from fear when she and Sam had stepped into Mr. Buckley’s office at the club after their talk in Washington Square Park. To her relief, he hadn’t asked her if she had any experience, just told her to show up for her first shift on Saturday at five and then demanded they both get the hell out and stop bothering him.
Mother stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “A waitress? In a jazz club?”
“It’s what I came here for, right? To broaden my horizons.”
“And this Esme, is she a student at the Gibbs school as well?” The syllables of Esme’s name dripped off Mother’s tongue as if they tasted foul.
“No.”
“And where did you meet her?”
“She works at the Barbizon. As a maid.”
Mother pushed her plate away and sat back, arms crossed. “Oh, Darby.”
“You’d like her, I’m sure, if you gave her a chance. She’s a lovely girl, Mother. Smart and very talented. She’s going to be a famous actress and singer someday.” The words sounded crazy to Darby’s own ears as she spoke them aloud. She took a deep calming breath and began again. “And I have another friend, too, who’s offered to help me. Charlotte is traveling right now, but she said she’d get me an interview with a publishing company when she returns. No matter what, I’ll be okay. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you sent me here to live. At first I was so nervous, but now I love it. I don’t want to go back.”
“You cannot stay here unchaperoned. And I can no longer afford the Barbizon hotel, obviously.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her lipstick.
“Esme and I are going to get an apartment together.”
“You do realize that you sound like a madwoman, don’t you? Do you think you’re that special? Do you realize how many girls come to New York hoping to make it big, then fall on hard times and are ruined?”
Darby flinched. “I assure you I won’t be ruined. This isn’t Defiance, and I’m not an innocent girl anymore.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
“Nothing, not that.” Well, not exactly that. “The idea of going to Katharine Gibbs was your dream, not mine. I’m not suited to it.”
“So you’ll work as a waitress instead? Very nice. Your father would be thrilled.” Mother pressed one delicate hand to each temple and heaved a dramatic sigh.
“What about publishing?” Darby offered. “That’s a respectable career for a girl like me.”
“Oh, please. You don’t have what it takes.”
Maybe Mother was right. Darby had never held a real job.