“Irving Berlin was right.”
“About what?”
“His new song John Steele sings each night. A pretty girl is indeed like a melody. At least my Melody.”
I blushed. “Thanks. Both for the compliment and the ‘my’. I like the sound of that.”
Briley smiled. “I like the idea of that as well.”
He rose from his seat at the table at Fontainebleu’s, the very latest Follies hang-out.
“Care to dance? I’ve wanted to have my arms around you for the last four hours, but never got the chance. That photographer took forever.”
“Love to.”
The band was playing a slow waltz. Perfect for holding one another close without attracting the attention of a crowd. The music was even soft enough to let the two of us talk without resorting to screaming at each other.
Briley murmured, “I never really apologized for acting like a spoiled child.”
“When? You’re always wonderful to me. What are you talking about?”
“In Memphis. Well, more specifically, on the train coming back when I wouldn’t talk to you about the future. I was still sore about Frank staying down there but I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. I’m really sorry.”
I continued to sway to the rhythm of the music, but reached over and lightly kissed him. It was all I could do not to let that kiss go further.
“Briley. You were hurt. I could see that. And it was – it is – perfectly understandable. You just found your brother. You didn’t expect him to, well, kind of disappear from your side again. It wasn’t meant like that but I imagine you felt somewhat betrayed. And your apology is not needed, but it’s accepted anyway.”
“Thanks.” He paused. “You’re a good listener, Melody Flynn.”
I preened. “All due. . . ”
“To your friend Savanna’s brothers,” he interrupted with a smile.
“Yeah, well, they really did teach me more genteel things than techniques of fighting and breaking and entering. They were fairly solid citizens when they weren’t stirring up trouble.”
“I wonder if I’ll get to meet them one day?”
I didn’t respond for a few seconds and Briley gently took his hand off my waist and lifted my chin so I could look at him. “I understand. According to your theory, by the time they’re born I’ll be an extremely old man. Unless Mrs. Donovan decides to take us both traveling by means other than the Central Railroad.”
I sighed. “It is nutty. isn’t it? I wish I could pin her down as to how and why but everytime I try to ask she throws sheet music or a scone at me and that ends all hope of reasonable discussion.”
The music shifted to a tango. Both of us love tangos. We quit talking so we could shift dance positions. I loved the feel of his body pressed against mine but this music put a swift end to our conversation.
When we finished, we sat back down and Briley poured champagne into our glasses. Then he raised his glass. “A toast. To Mel and Briley. To the miracle of finding each other however it came about. Staying together - always” He took a breath. “I do intend marrying you one day -in this century or the next. Would you say yes?”
My breath caught. I closed my eyes. “Oh yeah.”
He kissed me.
But I had to get it out. “Briley.”
“Mmm?”
“What do we do about time-travel? Seriously.”
His smiled dimmed. “I was hoping not to think about it.”
“I never stop thinking about it. So, you believe me now? About the future? Or are you telling me after all we’ve been through with Elvis and and crazy Fiona Belle Donovan instigating the rescue and my cell phone and checkbook that you still have doubts?”
He sighed. “No. And that’s what scares me. I don’t like the notion that I’ll suddenly find my girl has vanished - and all that’s left will be the scent of cranberries.”
“Just don’t let me ever sneak down to a neighbor’s in the middle of the night to come back up looped on tea mixed with booze and carrying a doll which plays music. Lock me in my dressing room for a few hours. I’d be much safer.”
“That reminds me. You never really told me the exact story about how you landed backstage three weeks ago.”
“Well, I gave you the highlights. Are you willing to listen and at least keep an open mind?”
He bit his lower lip. “If I’m going to spend the next eighty years or so with you I guess I have to, don’t I? Or be accused of not catering to women’s rights?”
“Ha! I wish I could zap you into the 1960s in the middle of a Gloria Steinham feminist rally thing. My grandma, another blazing redhead, said it was wild. Brassieres flinging into piles then being torched. She’d go to five-and-dime stores and buy up whole counters of bras to toss, then watch the flames blaze higher and sweep away, as she put it, ‘women’s oppressed state.’”
Briley laughed. “I don’t need to hear this. Although that goes a long way in explaining your pryromania tendencies.”
“Hey! I only burn down houses of ill repute.” I grinned. “It’s really kind of funny too, that my wild protesting feminist Grandmother ended up a stay-at-home mom, happily married with six kids, five of which were those oppressive male types. Five uncles. Yow.”
“Sounds wonderful to me. Happily married to a redhead; having six kids.”
I turned five shades of a different red, then replied softly, “Me too.”
I straightened my back and asked, “Ready for the details of Melody Flynn arriving in 1919 backstage at the New Amsterdam Theatre?”
“Oh, sure. Then I’ll decide whether you really need to be in a straitjacket. You must admit, time-travel by means of dolls and brandy is a bit hard to swallow.”
“And sheet music. Don’t forget sheet music. I have come to the conclusion, what with recent events, mainly the search for Denise and my rescue from the warehouse, that sheet music plays a great part in this.”
He groaned. “Dolls and pieces of paper with words and music. Heaven help us.”
I’d started to tell him the tale of my visit to Fiona Belle Donovan Winthorp, dognapping neighbor and witch, when we were interrupted by a squealing Saree and laughing Izzy.
They sat, ordered champagne, then we all chattered about marriage and Memphis and dance studios and real newspapers.
Another voice joined in. “I hear congratulations are in order?”
The Count. With Eloise Jenkins clinging to his side like a tick to a dog’s ear. He was smiling, which was good, but both Briley and Izzy tensed in case the rejected suitor decided to stir up trouble.
Saree just winked at me, then at the Count. “Yes, In-Deedy-Doody they are! In less than a month I’m gonna be Mrs. Isaac Rubens. Which is pretty damn swell. Anyone wanna argue?”
The Count just politely murmured, “Again, I say congratulations and best wishes.”
Eloise, clearly delighted to have snared royalty, still couldn’t resist an ethnic jab, which revealed her jealousy over her inability to have yet to make it into the Follies. “Well, this is just terrif. Saree Goldman marrying Izzy Rubenovitch. Two - Brooklynites - matching up. How precious. At least that leaves room for a new Follies dancer - one with real talent and a real American. Me.”
Briley, Izzy, Saree and I bristled. Brooklyn in the early 21st Century is well populated with artistic types sharing lofts and creating performance pieces. But in 1919, much of Brooklyn was home to a variety of immigrants, especially Jews from Eastern Europe. Clearly, Eloise felt herself superior to anyone with that background.
I kicked Briley before he could rise and do something ungentlemanly like paste Ms. Jenkins right in her tiny nose. I rose and quietly grabbed the girl’s hand, staring at the huge sapphire-cut diamond ring.
“What a gorgeous ring, Eloise. May I see it more closely?”
I pulled her ring finger backwards until the pain showed in her cold blue eyes. Then I released her hand and gently placed it in the Count’s. “Count? May I wish you and Ms. Jenkins years of happiness together. Although, I’m not sure you really deserve her. Oh, by the way? Eloise, dear, your dress is dripping.”
“What? No it’s not.”
I raised the bucket that had held the champagne but now was filled with melted ice and calmly emptied the contents over Eloise’s head.
Screams and curses followed the girl’s run to the ladies room in the back of the club. The Count tried not to laugh, lost his control, then quickly hurried after his date. Loud guffaws followed his progress across the room.
Applause came from my tablemates. I bowed, then turned when a hand grabbed mine.,
“Peter? Uh, hi.”
It was the Prince. He raised my hands to his lips and kissed my palm as a clearly pissed Briley McShan rose and snatched my hand away almost mid-smack.
Peter ignored him. “I haf looked for you, Mel-o-dee. You did not say you vould be dining here, so I haf been to Francy’s.” His handsome face darkened. “I am kept in dark over dis is new Follies, how you say, hand-out?”
“Hang-out.” Briley growled. “And it’s not the new hang-out. At least it wasn’t until about ten minutes ago. Jeepers, look at this!”
All of us scanned a room that had filled up while we’d been chatting. Follies girls and their dates, Follies comedians alone, and Follies singers with their dates or wives. Flo and Billie Burke Ziegfeld even sat in a corner, absorbed in each other but still taking the time to greet every cast member who stopped by to say “Hello” to the impresario and his wife.
Prince Peter smiled. “I see Count leafing Francy’s and I say, new place! Maybe the pretty Mel-o-dee vill be there and I shall see her from long absence.”
Briley’s face was turning purple. “Excuse me, Prince? I hate to burst your bubble but the lady is with me. Do you understand that?”
He looked puzzled then he smiled. “Of course. And with Miss Saree and Mr. Rubens. Bubbles of champagne bursting? I join you, da?”
He grabbed a chair, and plopped into it. I was still standing and still savoring my admittedly childish treatment of Eloise Jenkins, but this intrusion left me speechless. Almost. I was about to explain to the Prince that in America custom dictates that one does not cut in on another’s date. But before I could yell “Yo! Pete! Outta my grill!” arms encircled my waist then hoisted me about three inches above the ground. A voice boomed in my left ear.
“Mel! Honey! I’ve been lookin’ fer you all night! Loved the show. Lloyd and I came together tonight and were jest thrilled to watch all you purty ladies traipsing around that stage.”
Grady Martel let me down then nodded to Saree. “You did a fine job, too, Missy. Of course, my heart belongs to Miz Melody, but I sure did enjoy watchin’ you dance too.”
Briley was on his feet. He calmly pulled me away from the big man’s grasp and kept his arm around me. “Mr. Martel. Consider pausing every now and again before accosting ladies who do not belong to you, sir.”
“Huh?”
Lloyd Ellingsford smiled and placed his hand over Grady’s forearm. “He’s trying to tell you something, Martel. If I’m not mistaken we’ve interrupted a liason here?”
Briley snorted. “You and about fifty others. Oh hell, gents, take a seat. Actually, take mine.”
I stared anxiously at Briley who had pulled out his chair and was gesturing to Grady to claim it. Grady did, Lloyd found a vacant chair at another table and pulled it next to Saree.
Briley grabbed my hand. “Let’s dance. It’s our only chance to be alone.”
Izzy jumped up and pulled Saree to her feet. The four of us raced to the dance floor, leaving three men at our table with mouths gaping. I had to laugh though, when Grady shrugged and lifted the champagne bottle to check and see if any was left. Then I frowned even as I twirled in Briley’s arms. Four of the men I considered possibles for Ptah Junior had shown up in my vicinity in this last half hour.
The last man on my list was Lawrence Vassily. Who’d just walked through the doors of the ballroom and was heading directly toward Briley and me.
“Oh, crap.”
“I beg your pardon,” stated my sweet boyfriend.
“The circle is complete. All the suspects are in the room.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ptah. Every one of the guys we thought could be our kidnapper is here. I wonder if I’m totally off base about who’s who?”
Briley turned my head so my cheek rested on his. “ You’re right about the fact that our guy seems to haunt the Follies girls. Unfortunately, that opens up the field quite a bit.”
“Gag. It does, doesn’t it? I hate the idea that someone who appears to be a friend is creepy enough to go snatching girls and trying to mate with them for whatever kooky reason he seems to have to become a reincarnated god. But things fit too well with all five of these clowns.”
Briley stayed silent for a moment as we rocked, then spinned to the tune of "Girl of My Heart." Finally he murmured, “Whoever is behind this - well, let me just scream to the heavens that if they try to grab you they’ll be dealing with me. And they don’t want to deal with me. I can’t lose you. In any era. I love you beyond time.”
I snuggled against his chest. “I love you, too.”
We silently moved to the music. I could stay here in 1919 and be happy as long as I had Briley with me. I would miss my Dad and Savanna horribly – I knew that – but perhaps since Fiona Belle seemed to be the conductor, engineer and brakeman on the time-travel train she could find a way to tell them I was all right. Oh yeah, I’d have to ask her if she wouldn’t mind making a pit stop at her apartment and picking up Lucy too.
A hand suddenly clamped onto Briley’s shoulder.
“Briley? Sorry to interrupt your night, but we have a small crisis at the theatre. The electricity is out and everyone is frantic about tomorrow night’s show. You’re needed.”