TWENTY

“Heddy, telephone,” Ruth hollered from the foyer.

She’d been cutting out Teddy’s drawing of an octopus so he could make a mask to play with. Heddy excused herself, and whispered to Ruth, hand holding the receiver. “I took off the sheets, looked under the bed, in the closet. I don’t have the bracelet, Ruth.”

Ruth bent to pick up dust bunnies with her hand. “Jean-Rose said she didn’t find it at the club.”

“We can’t make it appear—we don’t have it.” Heddy was tired of feeling a thief; she hadn’t taken anything. “What are we going to do?”

Ruth didn’t answer, disappearing into the living room, so Heddy pressed the phone to her ear, hearing jazz music blasting. “Hello,” she said.

“Heddy, it’s Sullivan.” Through the static, she heard loud voices, laughing girls.

“Where are you? It’s nine in the morning.” She looked at her watch. “Not even.”

“It’s been a late night. We didn’t sleep. I watched the sunrise at Navy Sea.” She wondered who “we” was, then remembered the crowd at his show, the boys in gingham button-downs with the sun-kissed hair. How the girls watched him, keenly aware of Sullivan Rhodes.

“You must be exhausted,” she said.

“I’m calling because. Well, I’m calling because…”

Someone yelled: “Let’s go skinny-dipping.”

And Sullivan must have moved away because she heard a door click shut, and the noise quieted.

“Is Peg there?” Heddy could see a rich girl like her taking off her clothes, running into the water, and loving that everyone was staring at her perfect behind.

“No, Heddy. Listen, I’m calling because as I watched the sun come up, I wanted you to know that I wished you were here. Everyone had someone, and I could have asked one of the girls to sit with me, but I sat alone, because I wanted you. My buddy was like, ‘What is it about this girl, man?’ And I know what it is: I can be myself with you. You know about my family, but you don’t care about all that. And it makes me want you. It makes me want to just talk to you. God, I love talking to you.”

“Sullivan.” She imagined them sitting together at sunrise, his friends asking her for her opinion, calling her Sully’s girl. Peg would see them, and her prim smile would turn into a scowl, and how Heddy would sink deeper into Sullivan’s embrace, pretending to be apologetic but feeling nothing but pride.

“Sullivan, I like you, too.”

“When can I see you again?”

Heddy kissed the mouthpiece, wishing then that they could keep talking and she could be forever distracted from her mother’s predicament and the missing eternity bracelet. But he needed to sleep. She didn’t want him to say something he didn’t mean in his delirium. “I’m not sure.”

“Can you come over tomorrow?” he asked.

“I have the children.”

“We have plans Friday, anyway. I guess I can wait. Let’s have dinner after. Will you have dinner with me?”

“Sure, I will.” She grinned as she hung up the phone, rushing to follow the kids into the sunroom. Jean-Rose popped her head in.

“Remember: A reward if it turns up.” She leaned down to kiss each child on the cheek. “I’m off to the hair salon.”

Heddy’s chest tightened with anger, watching Jean-Rose drive off in the rain. “Ruth?” She was at a loss; what would they do?

Ruth balanced her hands atop the broom. “We might not have taken it, but we’re going to find it.”

Heddy took the children to a matinee of The Music Man that afternoon, and since it was raining, she convinced Ruth to avoid the storm and sleep over again, so they could talk. She was trying to be excited for her dates—first with Ash, then with Sullivan—but she was too distracted with the bracelet. Her headache centered between her eyebrows, a throbbing that wouldn’t stop. She popped two aspirin.

Ruth came out of the bathroom, already in her nightgown. “Stop worrying. It will turn up.”

Heddy’s brow furrowed, and she worked to relax the creases. “Do you think she’ll call the police on us?”

“Of course not. Ted probably gave it to his girlfriend.”

“Ted has a girlfriend?”

“No, but probably.” Ruth laughed. “You’re a ball of nerves, aren’t you? We’re going to be okay.”

Heddy inched her way under the sheets, not even bothering to change her clothes. She curled up, making a fist with her hand and biting her fingernails.

“Ruth?”

Her friend wiped the drool gathering in the corners of her mouth. “Hmm?”

“Why do you think she blamed us? I mean, it could have been anyone.” She imagined the gardener sneaking upstairs or the lady with the fabric swatches. There were the bridge ladies, sometimes with distant relatives in tow.

“She told us why: because we go in her room.” Ruth said.

“But she thinks we’re capable. And why? Because we’re not society girls.”

“If I lose this job, Mom won’t get her medicine. I never told you that. Jean-Rose gives me extra, just for that.”

“She does?” Heddy put her hand on Ruth’s. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”

Ruth closed her eyes, pulling the sheet over her small frame. “I need this job, Heddy.”

As Ruth’s breathing grew steady, turning into a low snore, she realized that her friend was just as scared, she was simply putting on a brave face. That they were in this position at all angered her. Heddy knew that Jean-Rose lost the bracelet—the woman was cavalier about everything she owned—and of course, she’d blame others for her own shortcomings. Heddy tossed and turned, thinking every shift in position might bring clarity. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the bracelet. If she didn’t find it, Jean-Rose would label her a thief, and what if she told Susanne, and then Abigail Rhodes?

She opened her journal, writing in the moonlight about the possibility of Ruth losing her job, which reminded her about her mother losing her apartment. When she was done filling an entire page, she realized that only two lines mattered. She rewrote them, larger this time, on a blank page: My plan B: Find the bracelet. Then ask Jean-Rose if she needs a nanny in the city.

It was time to find a job for the fall.