Sunday Afternoon, September 12, 1937
The Mid-Atlantic
The first-class lounge and cocktail bar was located at the forward part of the promenade deck, just one deck up from the main deck, where my cabin was. I entered from the port side and was immediately taken by the beauty of the room, including the joyful painting, Royal Jubilee Week, behind the semicircular bar. So taken was I by the décor, I almost didn’t notice Simon Quimby entering on the starboard side. Almost, I say, because his style and grace could never be surpassed by mere manmade decorations.
I strode over to him, nervous and grinning, and he smiled, too, moving toward me with the elegant confidence and poise that came from good breeding, I supposed. He had changed his clothes and was now sporting a gray, vested suit with a blue polka-dot bow tie. Neither of us were wearing hats. I was still in my tan suit, and I wondered if perhaps I should have changed, also. Simon, however, didn’t seem to notice or mind that I was wearing the same outfit, or if he did, he was too much of a gentleman to say anything.
“Hello, Heath. I’m so pleased you could join me for a drink.” He extended his right hand and we shook once more, and once more I felt that electric spark course through me. He didn’t seem as sad as he had when we first met. In fact, he seemed rather cheerful.
“Thanks for asking me,” I said, staring at him and trying to hide my excitement. “You look terrific. I love polka dots.” I bit my lip, realizing that sounded peculiar, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Polka dots? Oh, my tie, yes. I like them, too. And thank you, you look nice, also.” He held up two fingers, signaling the waiter, who led us to a small round table on the raised platform by the semicircle of windows across the front that gave a panoramic view of the rolling rough Atlantic and the endless horizon.
“What will you have, then?” Simon asked.
“Have?” Suddenly I felt foolish. I had no idea what to order. My parents mainly drank beer, and Verbina usually ordered Pink Ladies. The few times I’d gone out with the fellows in school we had beer or sometimes wine, but none of those options seemed appropriate right now. “Gee, I’m not sure. What are you going to have?”
“A dry vodka martini, with three olives, my usual.”
“That sounds good, I’ll have the same.”
“Excellent.” He gave the order to the waiter, along with a request for a relish tray to nosh on.
When the relish tray and the drinks came, we toasted to adventure and new friendships and I took a sip. Overall it was a pleasant sensation, but I didn’t care for the olives much, which must have shown on my face.
“Not to your liking?”
“Hmm? Oh, I like the martini well enough, but I guess I’m not too keen on the olives.”
He reached over and took them from my drink, sliding them rather seductively one by one into his mouth. “I love them, personally. But you need some kind of garnish. What will it be?” He perused the relish tray on the small table between us. “Radish? No. Carrot? Hardly. What about a pickle? Do you like pickles?”
“Yes, very much.”
“Than a pickle it shall be.” He used the olive toothpick to spear a small pickle out of the dish and then deposited it into my drink. “Give that a try.”
I took another drink. “Different, but overall pleasant. I like it.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
He grinned. “Than a vodka martini with a pickle shall be your drink from now on. Here’s to it!”
We clinked our glasses once more, drank, and laughed. I was still nervous, and we lapsed into silence while I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make me sound like a dolt or a child, but finally he started talking about London, and I relaxed a little bit, just listening to him. He gave me recommendations on things to see and do, though I knew I wouldn’t remember even half of them, distracted as I was by his handsomeness. And now and then I asked a question I thought sounded at least halfway intelligent. But then, during another pause in the conversation I found myself suddenly blurting out, “I bet you have a gaggle of girls waiting for you at home.” I instantly regretted it and felt foolish again.
Simon looked surprised. “What brought that on?”
“I don’t know, just that you’re so handsome, and an Englishman and all, a baron, no less, and you live in a big manor house in the country.”
“Well, thank you, but I don’t know about all that. As for girls, it’s more like the mothers and fathers of a gaggle of girls wanting to marry off their daughters to a baron.”
“Lucky you,” I said, smiling and feeling a little less stupid.
“Eh, I suppose. My father instilled in me from early on that I should produce an heir because I was the last male Quimby. But now he’s gone, and so much has happened. I’d like to just live my life, to be who I am, you know?”
“Yes, I think I do know. And I feel the same.”
“But it’s easier for you. I’m not sure it’s possible for me.”
“Why is that?” I said.
“It’s hard to explain. Has anyone ever pressured you to produce an heir?”
“Well, not exactly. I know my parents would like a grandchild someday, but Mom’s in no hurry to be a granny, and I’m only twenty-two and just out of college.”
Simon smiled. “Congratulations on your graduation.”
“Thanks, it was a long four years.”
“I can imagine. So, what are your plans for yourself now that you’re a college graduate, young man? How do you intend to live your life, to be who you are?”
“Oh, I’ve been clerking at Schuster’s Department Store during school. Mr. Schuster himself said I could be promoted to head clerk soon, and then even a floor manager someday.”
“And a fine floor manager you’ll be, I’m sure.”
“I guess so, but it’s not really for me.”
“No?”
“No. Aunt Verbina thinks I should be a teacher or a professor. I majored in literature in college, and I’m quite a fan of Oscar Wilde. In fact, I’m reading one of his books now.”
“Ah, Mr. Wilde, quite the Irish gentleman. I’ve read many of his works myself, and I’ve seen a few of his plays. He was a talented, though tormented, man.”
“Yes, I think so, too. Sad, really. He’s one of the reasons I majored in literature.”
“Well, I could certainly see you as a professor or teacher. You have a gentle demeanor, and you’re obviously quite intelligent and well spoken.”
I felt a little calmer. He was easier to talk to than I had imagined. “Thanks, but I’m not so sure I want to teach, either.”
“Oh? What would you like to do, then?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I’ve actually been thinking about joining the Milwaukee Police Department this fall, once we get back.”
Simon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? How interesting. We call policemen bobbies in England. You don’t seem the type, frankly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, no offense meant. It’s just that you appear kind, gentle, thoughtful, intelligent, and well-spoken.”
“That seems offensive to policemen in general.”
“Sorry, I’m not saying it well, I guess. I think of police as hard, rough, and tough, I suppose. Why do you want to go into that line of work, especially after four years of college?”
I didn’t say anything for a bit, contemplating how much I wanted to share. Talking with him seemed so natural, like we’d known each other for years. “Two things, really. One happened when I was just seventeen. I got jumped in a bad part of town by four thugs, and a police officer came to my rescue.”
“I say, what were you doing in a bad part of town by yourself at seventeen?”
“Looking for trouble, I guess, only it found me. Then, in my second year of college, I did something else stupid. I was twenty, it was a beautiful fall day, and I went for a walk in a park down by the river.”
“Yes? That doesn’t sound stupid.”
“It wasn’t, yet it was. I’d heard rumors men had been known to congregate there, you see, and I was curious. But sometimes the police make arrests for loitering, and stuff.”
“Loitering? Isn’t that what parks are for?”
I felt myself blush. Was I saying too much? “Yes, but some men did stuff in the park with each other. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d never been there before, but I’d heard about it, like I said, and I was wondering if the rumors were true. A plainclothes Milwaukee Police detective approached me, and thankfully took pity on me. He did me a kindness.”
“Oh, I see. I think.”
“Because of his kindness, I wasn’t arrested. My folks never knew, no one did. I don’t like to talk about it, naturally, but I thought then and there that perhaps I should go into law enforcement, even become a detective maybe and help others like me, do them a kindness, if I could. And I’m pretty good at solving mysteries. I have been since early on.”
“I bet you are, and I imagine you’ll be a first-rate policeman and detective, if that’s what you really want.”
“Yes, I think that is what I want.”
“Dangerous work, though. I hope you’ll be careful.”
“I will. I’ll try to be, anyway. My folks don’t like the idea, of course, and my Aunt Verbina will be livid when she finds out. I’m an only child, and I just have one first cousin. Her name’s Liz, my dad’s sister’s kid. I have a second cousin by the name of Chuck. He’s Liz’s dad’s brother’s son, but I don’t know him all that well. So, we’re a small family, you see, and they want to keep me close, keep me safe.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Yes, I suppose. Mom and Dad want me to use my college education, maybe go into banking or something, or keep working my way up at Schuster’s, and eventually get married, have those children—”
“I’m sure you’ll make a fine husband to a nice young lady and have lots of beautiful children.”
I scowled. “But I don’t want to be somebody’s husband, Simon, or have children, beautiful or otherwise. Like you said, I just want to live my life, to be who I am.”
Simon looked thoughtful. “Do you really know who you are? Are you still that same young man that was in that bad part of town or in the park that day?”
I shrugged, finishing my drink. “I don’t know, frankly. I guess not, in some ways. Heck, I don’t think I’m even the same fellow I was yesterday.”
“Wise words,” Simon said as he signaled for the waiter and ordered two more martinis. “We all change a little, every day, but not all of us realize it.”
When the drinks had been delivered, Simon took my olives and put another cocktail pickle in mine. I picked it up, took a drink, and looked at him. “Do you know who you are?”
He took a drink of his. “I’ve never known, but for me it’s different, I think, like I alluded to before.”
“Because you’re a baron, and because you feel pressured to produce an heir?”
“Yes, to a degree. People expect lots of things from me.”
“What people?”
“Family, society, the public.”
“Doesn’t sound much different. People expect things of me, too. Maybe we’re more alike than we think.”
“It might be fun to find out,” he said, polishing off his martini and looking at me with a gleam in his eye.
My nervousness returned in waves, and my palms felt sweaty all of a sudden. It made it hard to hold on to my glass, so I finished it and set it down carefully on the small rimmed table. I was warm and excited, anxious and fidgety. “I think it might be, too,” I said, my voice almost cracking as I nibbled on the vodka-soaked pickle.
“And I think we should have another drink.”
“I think if I have another drink right now, I’ll be under the table,” I said, staring at him again.
“That would be amusing, but probably not socially acceptable. Well, then, if we’re done drinking, why don’t we go for a swim? You packed your bathing costume, I assume?”
“I did. My aunt told me about the pool on board.”
“It’s definitely something to experience. I’ll settle up here. You go get your suit and meet me at the pool, deal?”
“Deal.”
“Enter on C deck and then come down the stairs to the changing rooms.”
“Got it, see you soon, and thanks for the drinks.”