SOUTH ASHEVILLE
AUGUST 1921
Arthur was both surprised and touched to receive an invitation to be part of the gathering of estate employees on Cornelia’s birthday. He rose early to make his way to the house, where some two hundred and fifty workers and their families gathered to celebrate sweet Nell.
They met in the courtyard outside the stables. A handful of musically inclined employees had formed an impromptu band to play dance tunes, making for a lively scene despite the early hour. Cornelia, now an elegant young woman of twenty-one, clapped her hands in time to the music and smiled as though nothing had ever pleased her more. She greeted the workers like old friends, and Arthur supposed many of them were. She’d played with many a staff member’s children when she was just a tyke herself.
Arthur remembered the Christmas not so long ago when he’d driven Lorna and Gentry to the staff party. Cornelia had been present that day, as well. Fresh from losing her father, she’d been a gracious hostess. He smiled recalling how Gentry, normally noisy and full of talk, had been struck nearly mute when the girl she called “practically a princess” handed her a Christmas gift. He racked his brain trying to remember what the gift had been.
He mused aloud, “Now, what was it Cornelia gave to Gentry that Christmas?”
“Handkerchiefs.”
Arthur blinked and turned toward the familiar voice. “Cornelia gave Gentry embroidered handkerchiefs. I don’t think she ever used them, just kept them in a drawer and petted them now and again.”
“Lorna. You caught me talking to myself.” Arthur felt his ears grow hot.
“I talk to myself all the time,” she said with a toss of her head. “It’s an excellent way to keep track of what I’m doing while weaving.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, then cringed. That sounded terrible. “What I mean to say is, I didn’t expect . . . er, since you aren’t on staff.” He stopped speaking and took a deep breath. “It’s good to see you, Lorna.”
She laughed. It was so unexpectedly genuine that he felt his heart soar in response. Something he shouldn’t let happen. The days of Lorna stirring his heart needed to be left well behind him.
“And it’s good to see you, Arthur.” She smiled, and her eyes seemed to ask his forgiveness—although for what, he didn’t know. “I understand I have you to thank for being asked to make the curtains for tonight’s surprise.”
He ducked his head. “Yes, I suppose you do. But thanks aren’t necessary. I knew John wanted the best, and I knew you were the one to supply it.”
“Well, thank you just the same.” She looked down and pursed her lips. “I saw John across the way. He said we’re welcome to come see the finished—” she looked all around, a twinkle in her eye—“conveyance.”
“That would be a treat,” Arthur said. He crooked an arm in her direction. “May I escort you?”
“I’d be delighted!”
They made their way to the woodworking shop while talking lightly of the weather, the crowd, and how nice it was to see the estate bustling with activity. Since Mr. Vanderbilt’s death, the family had spent more time in Washington, D.C., leaving the estate feeling much too quiet.
“Have you ever attended a masquerade?” Arthur asked.
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t begin to know how to dress for one.”
“I think you’d make a wonderful Cleopatra,” he teased.
She giggled. “And you could be Antony.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter. “We had better choose characters that fare better than those two,” Arthur said. “Perhaps a sheep and a shepherdess.”
“That does sound more like it,” Lorna agreed. “I’ll be the sheep.”
“Are you two here to see the surprise?” John appeared in the workshop doorway. “Come on in. We’re taking turns guarding it to make sure none of tonight’s guests sneak a look.”
Inside, the sedan chair gleamed in a shaft of sunlight. Arthur was proud of how the woodwork had turned out, and the fabric of the curtains seemed to glimmer. “What did you use to make the fabric?”
“It’s a basic design. I simply incorporated a metallic thread to make the cloth shine. It also added weight so the curtains drape nicely.” Lorna flicked the fabric to demonstrate how it dropped back into place, the folds hanging just so.
“You outdid yourself,” Arthur said, fingering the cloth. Lorna’s gaze dropped, and she mumbled a reply. “No need to be humble,” he said. “You should take pride in such fine work.”
“It’s absolutely perfect.” They turned to see Cornelia step inside, the game bag the staff had given her as a present slung over her shoulder. “I understand you both played an important role in making sure my entrance will not be forgotten anytime soon.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
Arthur noted the flush on Lorna’s cheek that made her look even more charming than usual. Which wasn’t something he had any business noticing.
“May I ask what your costume will be?” Lorna asked as though trying to change the subject.
Cornelia grinned. “It’s marvelous. I’ll be a Renaissance page with a bolero jacket and gorgeous lace underneath.” She became more animated as she spoke. “There’s a brilliant pink sash that matches the ostrich plume in my velvet cap. It’s a stunner.”
Lorna looked surprised. “A page? Not a queen with a crown or an exotic costume from the Orient?”
Cornelia made a face. “I’ve had to wear elaborate dresses too many times. As a page I’ll be wearing britches and low-heeled shoes that will let me dance and dance without pinching. We’ll have the Garber Davis Orchestra, and this costume means I can dance as much as I like without being encumbered.”
“You’ve thought this through,” Arthur said.
John joined them. “Our Nell’s a smart one,” he said. “And she’ll be the prettiest girl in the room no matter what she wears.”
Cornelia touched his arm fondly. “You always did stand up for me, John. Now, I’d better get back to the festivities. Again, thank you all for helping make this day so very special.”
John grinned, “That’s our girl. I believe I’ll step out and kick up my own heels a bit.” He winked. “Don’t be letting anyone get a peek in here.”
They watched John escort Cornelia out. Arthur caught a wistful look on Lorna’s face. “She must be missing her father today,” she murmured. “It doesn’t matter how many years pass; such a loss remains keen.”
“As you know all too well,” he said.
“Indeed, I do.” She turned luminous eyes on him. “Did I ever thank you for saving me that day?”
“It was never necessary. I’m only grateful I was there to do it.”
Tears welled. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let go. Followed Father wherever he went.”
“No.” Arthur grasped her arm. “Never say such things. You are . . .” He choked on the word. “You are precious.” His voice turned hoarse. “And you would be missed. Very much so.”
Two tears spilled, one after the other, plopping onto the back of his hand. “Thank you, Arthur. I didn’t say it then, but I’ll say it now.” She looked up at him. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
He found a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “You have long been and shall always remain dear to me. I’m grateful for your friendship.”
She patted her cheeks with the handkerchief and gave a watery smile. “Thank you for that as well, Arthur. It’s good to know I can count on you to be my friend.”
“Always.” And he meant it, even though his heart ached knowing it would never be more than that.