Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [116]
“This is Timmy’s friend,” Alice said.
“Daniel Kelleher,” Daniel said, extending his arm and shaking Henry’s hand vigorously, like he was hammering a nail. “Pleased to meet you, uh—”
“Henry,” Henry said. “And this is Mary, of course.”
“My sister,” Alice said quickly.
“I’ve heard of you,” Mary said, without a hint of her old shyness.
“All good, I hope,” Daniel replied.
“Oh yes.” She turned to Alice and smiled. “Nice dress.”
“I know it’s yours, I—”
“No, really, it looks lovely on you,” Mary said. “Have it.”
The plain statement made Alice’s blood run hard and fast. How dare her sister speak to her that way, as if she were above her now? She tried to remember the Philippians—humility before all else.
Henry and Daniel leaned into a swarm of men trying to place their orders at the bar.
“I’m having a heck of a time of it,” Daniel said, and Henry simply signaled to a bartender in a tuxedo and said, “Charles, can you help us out?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Winslow,” he said.
Daniel turned pink.
“How’s it going?” Mary asked Alice when they were alone.
Alice took a deep breath, trying to move past her bitter feelings.
“The date is clearly a flop,” she said with a conciliatory smile. “Thanks, boys.”
Mary lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder, making sure Daniel couldn’t hear. “He doesn’t seem so bad. You’re too hung up on looks.”
“So you admit he’s ugly.”
Mary smiled. “Shh! No! A bit dishwatery, maybe.”
“I’m not exactly in the market for dishwater.”
“Fair enough.” Mary smiled. “It’s true you two make a bit of an odd couple.”
“I told him I wanted to be an artist and he laughed.”
“What!”
“More or less. He’s probably right. It probably won’t ever happen.”
Mary shook her head. “Did you tell him you’ve sold a painting?”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Alice said, though she was grateful to her sister for thinking that just then.
“You look dynamite in that dress, by the way,” Mary said. “Better than I ever did.”
“Hush,” Alice said.
The men returned with the drinks, and Mary and Daniel started a conversation about the navy, specifically about Timmy’s lifelong obsession with playing pranks. According to Daniel, their brother had gotten socked in the face for shaving off a shipmate’s left eyebrow when the fella was passed out drunk.
“Why not both eyebrows?” Mary asked.
As Daniel began to respond, Henry gently grabbed Alice’s wrist to get her attention.
“Can I tell you a secret, kiddo?” he whispered into her ear.
“Sure,” she said.
“I’m a bit intoxicated,” he said.
“Me too,” she said. “Great secret.”
“No, no, that’s not it. The secret is that I’m going to ask your sister to marry me tomorrow at the beach. I’ve got the ring right here.” He tapped his breast pocket and gave her a wink. “Picked it up this afternoon before I met her at the theater. You’re the only person who knows other than my sister. My father wants me to head up a branch of the company down in New York for a year or two, so we’ll likely be moving there after the wedding.”
Alice forced out a smile and said that it was wonderful news. This was what she had wanted. But she felt herself filling up with anger—why should Mary have a love, a real love, and not her? Why should Mary be the one to go free and be a wealthy woman, living as she pleased, meeting all sorts of fascinating people? Alice had thought Henry would bring good fortune to them both, but perhaps that had been naïve. Here she was with the dud to end all duds, and there was Mary, living like Isabella Stewart Gardner herself, off to New York for a new adventure.
Alice knew her rage and her stubbornness often burst from nowhere, but knowing didn’t change it. A daydream, that’s what Daniel had said about her life. Maybe he was right. Alice felt like a fool.
“I’m going to ask your dad for his permission in the morning while you and Mary are at church, which I’m not terribly excited about,” Henry went on. “If you could try to keep her out a half hour longer than usual or so. Maybe go for breakfast.”
“Absolutely,” she said briskly. Then she turned