CHAPTER 6

LONDON

MAY 2019

My phone buzzed, and when I peeled my eyes open, I realized I was slumped over on the elegant sofa in one of the two front reception rooms of Precious Dubose’s flat, George snoring at my feet. Oscar sat on the floor in front of me, staring. Not an unfriendly stare, but definitely one of wariness.

The last thing I remembered was turning on the television to watch the morning news. That had been—according to the carriage clock on the fireplace mantel—four hours earlier. I sat up and grabbed my phone, staring at it as I tried to remember how to answer it. The television was now turned off, presumably by Laura, the same person I assumed had placed a knitted blanket over me.

The phone stopped ringing. I was considering going back to sleep when a text popped up on my screen. I’m downstairs. Have boxes. Tell Nana yes to lunch. I also saw that, despite my sending Knoxie a text telling her to just call me if it was an emergency or, if it wasn’t, to text me her question and I’d respond when I could, there were three texts from her, all with the same message: CALL ME.

My foggy brain took a moment to realize the most recent phone call and text were from Colin. Before I could register what he meant, I noticed how he’d used punctuation but no shorthand in his text. Not that I would ever tell him, but I appreciated it. I’d thought I was the only person in my age group to do so.

The lift bell dinged in the outside foyer, jerking me out of my stupor. I stumbled to the front door and opened it to find Colin moving corrugated boxes from the lift to the hallway. “I think I’ve got all of the ones from the town house,” he said. “But there are still quite a few left in the storage room. I was afraid to bring up more—we won’t have room. I thought after Arabella and Precious have chosen what they don’t want, we can switch them up with a fresh box.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let me help,” I said, lifting one of the boxes and finding it surprisingly light. “Where should I put this?”

“Wherever there’s room. The dining room can be used for overflow. There are about a dozen hatboxes in the storage room, too, that I can bring up. They take up a lot of space, so I thought you’d want to go through these first.” He straightened as the door to the flat opened wider. Oscar and George bounded right past me into the hallway and attacked Colin with exuberant affection.

“I hope you had a good nap,” Laura said to me from the doorway. “I was afraid the dogs would wake you, but you were down for the count. Lunch is almost ready, and Precious is expecting you both.” She looked past my shoulder at Colin, who was being licked to death by the two dogs. “Glad you got my message—she really wanted to see you. I’m happy you could make it.”

Hoisting a larger box and carrying it toward the door, he said, “I can’t stay long—I’ve got a meeting at two.”

“I know she’ll understand. I’ve added more hangers to the racks in the bedroom so you have a place for some of the additional clothes. I have no idea how one person could have so many.”

I placed the box on the dining room table and returned to the hallway. Oscar was busy sniffing one of the boxes, and when I bent down to scratch him behind his ear, he snarled at me.

Laura picked up the little dog. “It takes him a while to warm up to strangers. Just give him some time, and I’m sure he’ll be flopping over for belly rubs in no time.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll make sure Precious is ready to see you. Lunch will be ready in about ten minutes.”

I watched Oscar’s sweet face over Laura’s shoulder as she walked down the hallway. I was unable to decipher his stare, but decided to like him anyway. I picked up another box and brought it into the bedroom, managing to find room for it on top of the dressing table. Then I moved toward the window to allow room for Colin, who dropped a box on the bed. I pushed aside the partially open drapes, tying them back with heavy cords attached to the frame.

Light streamed in. I could see into the windows at the backs of the flats in the next block, which explained the heavy curtains. But opening the curtains afforded a view of Regent’s Park if I pressed my forehead to the glass and looked over the roofs of the terrace buildings behind Harley House. Since it was still morning, most of the windows were dark, and I noticed that bay windows with patterned leaded glass were dotted along the facades of both buildings like a checkerboard, the design apparently having no rhyme or reason.

“Why are some of the leaded glass windows missing?” I asked.

Colin looked up from another box he’d just dropped on the floor. “The Blitz.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “The Germans. During the war. They dropped a lot of bombs on London.”

I gave him the look I remembered using with my younger siblings when they were making excuses or trying to avoid punishment. It meant many things, but it was generally intended to imply that I wasn’t stupid and that to proceed further would mean repercussions.

“I know what the Blitz was. I remember learning about it in school. I just . . .” I shrugged. “I knew a lot of civilians were killed. But I guess I always assumed the bombs were dropped by the river or somewhere strategic like that. Not . . . here. Not where people were living. I probably forgot that part because it’s so horrible.”

Colin moved to stand next to me in the window, pointing toward the backs of the terraces I’d seen before. My gaze followed his finger, and I watched a woman on one of the back patios gently pushing a small child on a rocking horse. “One dropped right there on York Terrace East—demolished the whole building and damaged this one quite a bit. At least one bomb landed in front of Harley House on Marylebone Road. Shrapnel and debris would have flown a good distance and broken some of the windows. The damage to homes and civilians was intentional. Hitler assumed it would make Britain surrender within weeks. Instead, they endured nearly nine months of almost nightly attacks. The bombings stopped then only because the Germans needed their planes to fight the Russians.”

The child on the horse kicked her feet wildly, and I imagined I could hear her squeals of laughter. “Would the people have had any warning so they could go somewhere safe?”

“Yes—there were sirens and wardens to show people where the nearest shelter was.”

“What about Precious? Did she live here during the Blitz?”

“For part of it, I believe. Nana has never offered much information about the war.”

I turned my head to say something and found myself standing so close to him that our noses were almost touching. The armoire was behind me, so I couldn’t step away. Colin remained where he was, and I was forced to stare into his eyes and notice how they were a solid blue without a fleck of any other color. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m here, so I can ask her.”

My phone rang: Rick James’s “Super Freak.” “It’s my aunt Cassie . . . ,” I started to explain, but Colin was already leaving the room. I’d wanted to tell him how during my last visit home, my then-eleven-year-old brother, Harry, had innocently asked to borrow my phone to play games. Then he’d assigned all family members on my contact list a unique ringtone—without my knowledge or approval. I had a strong suspicion that he’d had help from my uncle Sam and that he was retaliating for me sending him off to school with baby food packed in his lunch bag. It had been almost three years, yet I still hadn’t changed them back.

I hit the “answer” button. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweet Maddie. It’s Aunt Cassie. Have you got a minute?”

I glanced at the unopened boxes on the bed and floor. “Sure—let me put you on speaker.” I hit the “speaker” button and set the phone on the dressing table. “What’s up?” Turning my attention to the large box on the bed, I stuck my finger under the tape and began peeling it off.

“Oh, the usual—runnin’ around like a chicken with its head cut off. The ad agency is doing well, and I’ve hired some more people, so I don’t have to do as much traveling and can work from home most days. By the way, your uncle Sam and little cousins Suzy and Sam Junior say hey.”

“Hey back,” I said, the sound of her voice warming my insides. Although I hadn’t met my mother’s sister until I was fourteen, in the years since, Aunt Cassie had more than made up for lost time.

I pulled open the box flaps to reveal neatly folded clothing. Reaching inside, I felt soft silk shantung beneath my fingertips and pulled out a dress the color of midnight, the nap changing from deep blue to black as I moved it in the light. I reached for a hanger dangling from one of the racks.

“And since you won’t bother picking up the phone to call your sister, I’m actually calling for Knoxie.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “She’s engaged!”

I dropped the dress. “But she’s only nineteen! That’s way too young!”

Cassie’s voice was soft and reassuring, something she’d had to relearn since she’d moved back home from New York City nearly fifteen years before. “She and Tyler have been dating since freshman year in high school. They’ve both got solid heads on their shoulders, and they’re committed to getting their degrees. They’re making good grades at UGA and planning on law school, if that makes you feel any better. And as Knoxie keeps reminding everybody, your mama was that young when she married your daddy. Not to mention that you and Rob Campbell were engaged at nineteen.”

I picked the dress off of the floor and rehung it. “That was a million years ago, when I was young and stupid.” The familiar sting pricked at my eyes. I swallowed the bitter lump that had settled in my throat to pretend that I’d forgotten all about my ill-fated engagement. “So, why isn’t she calling me instead of you? I told her to call me if it was important.”

Colin reappeared with another box and placed it next to the first before leaving the room again. I reached inside the box for another dress, and heard Cassie exhale into the phone.

“Knoxie said she’s been texting you for the better part of two days and figured you were avoiding her, so she asked me to call. She has a request, and she thought I’d have a better chance of getting you to say yes. Something about me being bossy.”

I tried to smile and make a joke about how my sister was right, but a fist of dread had collided with my stomach, and I couldn’t find the air to speak.

“She wants a Christmas wedding. It was your mama’s favorite time of the year, and since Knoxie is the first one to get married, she thought it would be fitting.”

“Oh. Right. Sure.” I waited for the feeling of dread to pass, but it kept jangling inside my head like a nightmare.

“Well, good, I’m glad you’re on board. ’Cause there’s one more thing.”

“Is this about the taxidermy thing? Tell Knoxie it’s only for a year.”

I heard the smile in her voice. “No, it’s not. I thought that was pretty funny, by the way, although Knoxie’s afraid to open her mail now. This is about something else.”

I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for the blow.

“She wants you to be her maid of honor, which means you’ll have to come home. She says you don’t have to stay more than two days—for the rehearsal and the ceremony and reception—but she’d like for you to stay longer. We all would, Maddie. You haven’t been home in three years.”

I wanted to argue that it hadn’t been that long, but I knew it had. Just like I knew how each December my family placed Christmas ornaments and poinsettias on my mother’s grave. And how they waited until the following January to celebrate Harry’s birthday, a month late. It had been Cassie’s idea to separate the two events so the youngest Warner’s birthday wouldn’t be overshadowed.

A thump on the floor by the bed announced Colin’s return. “I’m not sure if I can,” I said into the speaker as I hung up a shawl-collared jacket with large round buttons on the front. “My work schedule is so unpredictable. . . .”

“Madison Warner.” My aunt’s tone and the use of my full name reminded me of why we called her bossy and why Knoxie had asked her to call me in the first place. “We are talking about your family here. Your little sister, who has always looked up to you and who loves you, is asking you to be here for her wedding. It’s not a lot to ask, and it should take priority.”

I closed my eyes, then snapped them open to block out the images of the kitchen table we’d all sat around, the magnolia tree in the front yard of the old house where our mother had been born and raised. Of chasing lightning bugs in the backyard at night, clutching peanut butter jars labeled with our names. “Can I think about it and let you know?”

Aunt Cassie sighed. “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. But as your uncle says, there’s not a lick of a chance that there can be more than one answer, and I’m not going to accept an alternative.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that meant it wasn’t really a choice, but she spoke again. “How are your menstrual cycles?”

The sound of tape being ripped off of cardboard jerked my attention to Colin standing next to me. “Aunt Cassie! You’re on speaker, and I’m not alone here. Can we talk about this another time?”

“Maddie, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a girl, and all girls menstruate. It’s a fact of life. And you of all people should know why it’s important to pay attention to your body.”

Colin was busy removing clothing from the box and wasn’t looking in my direction, but he had two ears, and they’d turned an interesting shade of pink.

“That’s enough for now, Aunt Cassie. We’ll talk about this later, all right? When you call me tomorrow.”

“Sure. There’s one more thing. Sam was in Atlanta for a medical conference and ran into Dr. Grey. She mentioned you’d had some test results forwarded to her office from your doctor in New York, but the follow-up requests to make an appointment have gone unanswered, so she was concerned. What’s going on?”

I was painfully aware of Colin in the room. “It was no big deal—just some blood tests. I simply wanted Dr. Grey to see them. It’s not an emergency, all right?”

I could almost hear Cassie’s brain working in the pause before she spoke. “Fine. Then you can make an appointment to see her when you’re here for Knoxie’s wedding. Assuming you haven’t already seen your doctor in New York by then. Although I understand why you might want to see Dr. Grey. She’s been with us through a lot, hasn’t she?”

A loud shriek emitted from my phone, followed by my fifteen-year-old niece shouting at her eleven-year-old brother, “Give it back, Sam Junior! That’s mine!” A door slammed and then, at an even higher volume, Suzy screamed, “You’re like a booger you can’t thump off!”

I made the mistake of looking up and meeting Colin’s gaze as his eyebrows shot up.

“Well,” Cassie said calmly, “I’d better get off the phone before World War Three starts and go see what those two hellions I gave birth to are up to. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, but she’d already hung up. I kept staring at my phone, listening as Colin pulled clothing from the boxes, trying to think of something to say to explain the conversation.

“Excuse me, you two.”

I looked up with relief as Laura appeared in the doorway. “Lunch is ready.”

“Great,” I said, “because I could eat the north end of a southbound polecat.” I saw that they were both eyeing me strangely. “Sorry. Something my uncle Sam says and that my aunt Cassie tells me I shouldn’t.”

Laura smiled. “I’ll go let Miss Dubose know you’re coming.”

I blushed and was just wondering how much of the conversation Colin had actually heard when he said, “I’m wondering if I need to Google the word ‘booger’ for alternate meanings or if your cousin’s intent needs no explanation.”

I stuck my head deep into the box, but I wasn’t fast enough to hide the bubble of laughter that escaped from my mouth. As I tossed another pile of clothes onto the bed, I caught sight of something blinking in the light. The box purse I’d seen partially hidden the previous day. I slid it off its hanger and held it up. “Look what I found. Should I bring it, start a conversation?”

“Sure,” Colin said. “My mother packed a boxful of purses, actually. I left them at the town house, not thinking we’d need them. If Arabella wants more, we’ll know where they are.”

I nodded and slipped the handle over my wrist, noticing a small repair, the rope strands held together with nearly invisible stitches. I held it up for Colin to see. “This was damaged—they might not want it at the exhibit, which is a shame. It’s so beautiful and unusual.”

“Maybe the story behind how it broke will make it interesting enough to display.”

“Very true,” I said, impressed with his ability to think like a writer.

We made our way down the hallway toward Precious’s rooms, stopping quickly to retrieve my pencil and notebook. I was old-school with my note-taking, loving the scratch of a pencil against paper. Oscar met us at the door with a snarl until he saw Colin, who scooped him up, presumably to save my ankles from attack.

“Hello, Nana,” Colin called out. “We’re here.”

Laura came to greet us and took the little dog. “Miss Dubose is out on the balcony.”

Precious held court at a round wrought iron table, wearing peach silk lounge pants and a matching long-sleeved tunic. Even though the table was in the shade, she had on a straw hat with an enormous brim and a matching peach ribbon. Large sunglasses hid her eyes. She resembled a movie star from the glamorous days of old Hollywood. I waited for Colin to kiss her on each cheek before I greeted her with an outstretched hand.

“Nonsense,” she said, holding out her cheek for me to kiss. “We’re kin, remember?”

“Of course.” I leaned down to kiss her, seeing again the ashen pallor of her skin beneath the makeup.

“We’re having pimiento cheese sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Laura found the recipe in Southern Living. It’s not bad, but it’s never quite as good as my mama used to make.”

I accepted the chair Colin had pulled out for me before he sat down on the other side of Precious, and I placed my notepad in my lap. Not knowing where to put the purse, I set it gently on the table.

Precious’s smile faded. Her peach-colored lips opened, but no sound emerged, her beringed hand finding her chest.

“Are you all right?” I asked with alarm.

Colin half stood until she waved him back. “I’m fine. It’s just a bit of a surprise, is all. It brings back a lot of memories.” She stroked the velvet, delicately picked at one of the embroidered leaves, then smoothed it with her finger. “Don’t you wish sometimes that objects could speak?”

“Yes, I do.” I thought of my mother’s clothes, which had hung in her closet for years before Aunt Cassie convinced my daddy to let her take them away.

“I thought so,” Precious said quietly. Lifting the purse, she gave it a gentle shake. “I’m wondering if I might have left my powder compact inside.” She slid it closer and fumbled with the rhinestone latch.

“May I help you with that?” I asked.

She stared at the reluctant latch with pursed lips, as if to force it open just by willing it. Eventually, she nodded her head in defeat. I played with the clasp, twisting and turning it until it clicked and popped open. The lid hinged backward, and after waiting for a nod of approval from Precious, I reached in and pulled out a slim, rectangular box, the silver tarnished to a dull bronze.

“I think it’s a cigarette case.” I pressed a narrow button on the edge, and it sprang open, the faintest scent of tobacco vanishing almost as soon as I became aware of it. A single cigarette, shriveled and yellowed, lay diagonally across the bottom. I turned the case to the side, but the cigarette didn’t roll, stuck to its prison.

“You smoked, Nana?” Colin watched as I rotated the case in my hand, allowing us to see the intricate curlicue pattern in the silver.

“No.” The single word sounded as if it had been forced through sandpaper. “It’s not mine. It belonged to a friend.” She swallowed.

“A friend?” I prompted.

“Yes. Another model. We lost touch. It was during the war, you see. So easy to lose touch with friends.” Her hand reached out for the case, and I placed it on her palm. Carefully, she snapped it shut. With deliberation, her fingers brushed against the tarnish on the lid, partially revealing a raised emblem in the center. It looked like some kind of insect. The case slid from her hands and fell onto the table with a clatter. I met Colin’s gaze before turning back to Precious and reaching to get the case.

“May I?” I asked.

She hesitated only a moment before nodding. I picked up the case and then, using my thumbs, rubbed at the marks, feeling like an archaeologist as the figure of a bee emerged. I could see now the careful marks on the translucent wings and striped body, the furred sections of the legs, the two stubby antennae. I studied the insect before flipping the case over, looking for an explanation. There was something so intentional, so precise, about the engraving that I wanted it to be more than just a decoration.

Again I rubbed the tarnish with my thumbs, revealing a British sterling hallmark in one corner, and a line of tiny words along the bottom edge. nil credam et omnia cavebo. I knew it was Latin. But having not taken Latin at Walton High School (I somehow doubted it had even been available) or in college, I had no idea what it meant.

I held it up so that Colin and Precious could see. “Do either of you know what this means?”

Colin nodded. “Give me a minute.” He read the words silently, his eyes moving from left to right, and then back again. “It’s an old Latin proverb I remember reading somewhere back in my school days. Loosely translated, I think it means, ‘I will trust to nothing, and be on my guard against everything.’”

Precious reached over, and her hands enveloped the slim case, pulling it into her grasp. “Betray before you are betrayed.”

“And this belonged to your friend?” I asked.

Precious slid off her sunglasses, her pale fingers trembling, her light blue eyes bright against the whiteness of her skin. Slowly, she nodded. “Her name was Eva. She’s the one who told me what it meant.” A small smile teased her lips before failing completely. “We were like sisters.” She dropped her gaze, studying the bee on the case.

Betray before you are betrayed. The words lingered in my head. I wondered at their meaning. And why this Eva had had them engraved on her cigarette case. An idea occurred to me. “Precious, Eva might still be alive, you know. Since you were both models, I’d love to interview you both for the article. She might even have her own collection of clothes! Would you like me to try to find her?”

Precious’s eyes clouded, but not with tears. It was as if some deep memory had tried to reappear, and she’d slammed down the shutters to avoid seeing it. “Just because a person is lost doesn’t mean they want to be found.”

Colin leaned forward. “You were like sisters, though. Wouldn’t you like to see her again?”

“It could be very interesting,” I added. “Two friends in conversation about the fashion through wartime and over the decades.”

Precious’s eyes met mine, shadows running behind hers like elusive ghosts. “Yes, Maddie. You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “And I think you’re just the person. To find Eva. To tell our stories. For our families. You understand, don’t you?”

I nodded because I did understand. Stories passed from one generation to the next were the cornerstone of Southern family tradition. It was fitting that I, as a blood relation—albeit a distant one—would be the person to tell hers. “And even if I can’t find Eva, you can include her in your stories so she’s not forgotten.”

“So she’s not forgotten,” Precious repeated. A smile touched her peach-tinted lips. “I like that. I like that very much.”

Despite the confidence of her words, I could still see the shadows in her eyes. Grief is like a ghost. “All right,” I said. “I’ll get started today.”

Colin leaned forward. “What was her surname?”

“I’ll think of it. It’s been so long.” Precious pressed her hands against the edge of the table. “I’m feeling poorly. If you will excuse me, I’m going to go for a lie-down.” Colin pulled out her chair and helped her stand. She gave me a wobbly smile. “I’ll have Laura pack up the pimiento cheese sandwiches so you can have a picnic in Regent’s Park. Queen Mary’s Gardens are lovely this time of year. It would be a shame to let this beautiful day go to waste. And I’ll let you know when I’m up for another chat. Maybe this evening or tomorrow morning. But you have all those lovely clothes to look at for inspiration. Choose the ones you find most interesting, and we’ll start with those.”

I stood, too, meeting Colin’s gaze, but he just gave me a quick shake of his head as he escorted Precious inside. I picked up the cigarette case to put it back inside the purse, noticing as I did a label sewn into the satin interior. It was hard to read, but the stitches had been done in gold thread, and the sunlight picked out the letters.

HOUSE OF LUSHTAK, LONDON

I closed the clasp, hearing Precious’s words echoing in my head. Just because a person is lost doesn’t mean they want to be found.

My gaze drifted past the roofs of the terraces, toward the park, and I tried to imagine bombs dropping from the sky, fire and debris filling the air. I couldn’t. The dual images were too opposed, like sand and sea.

I carried the purse inside, closing the balcony doors behind me, wondering why Eva, wherever she might be, might have chosen to remain lost.