with a frog danced in my head.
“You have to come over. Sometime this week. We can—or maybe . . . no. I forgot that Georgie has the colic. Maybe next week. He should be over it by then. I’ll let you know. I’ll send a note.” She kissed me on the cheek and moved away, leaving me standing there watching her.
Who was Georgie?
A fluttering hand caught my eye. “Yoo-hoo!”
I had no trouble recognizing that wave. Or that voice: Winnie Compton. I grabbed the hand of the woman standing next to me and shook it. “So pleased to see you here tonight.”
Her eyes registered surprise and then her brows drew together in consternation. “Have we . . . met?”
No. We hadn’t met. But talking to a stranger was better than talking to Winnie Compton. I was hoping the woman would feel compelled to say something—anything!—but she only gathered up the skirts of her gown and turned her shoulder to me.
I felt a tap on my arm. “Lucy Kendall. It is you, isn’t it?”
What could I say? Of course it was me! Who else would it be? Talking to Winnie always made me feel so irritated. And surly.
“So you’re back.” She was smiling at me. She was always smiling. I used to think that if someone threatened to murder her, the only thing she’d do in reply would be to smile and thank him.
“Yes.”
“And you’re the queen this year.”
Yes. I was.
“We’re the only two from our class that haven’t married yet. Or gone off to the Orient as missionaries. Or gone to college. Or . . .” She leaned closer. “Eloped. I guess it’s just the pair of us.”
I felt a desperate longing to be engaged. “It was so nice talking to you, Winnie, but I really need to go now.”
Her smile wobbled. “Oh. All right, then. That’s fine.” Anotherreason I felt like throttling Winnie: She always made me feel as if I’d somehow disappointed her. And she was awfully nice. She’d never done anything to anyone except smile. I was a bad person.
“When are your at-home days, Winnie?”
“This week?”
I already regretted the words I was going to say, but I nodded anyway.
“Thursdays. From two o’clock until four.”
“I’ll come for a visit.”
“You will?” Her smile grew even larger, her eyes even wider.
I nodded. “I promise.”
She squealed and kissed me on the cheek, then darted away toward the dance floor.
At last I reached the refreshments. As I surveyed the table, my spirits lifted. There wasn’t one piece of candy left. I clasped my hands to my chest as I looked at Sam. “It’s a success, then? It looks like every piece has been eaten!” As I spoke, a server whisked away one of the empty trays.
“No, Lucy, it’s—”
Mistaking him for a fellow server, the man turned to Sam. “Now that those awful candies are gone, go back into the kitchen and get something else to take their place.”
Had he said . . . ? “Did you say—?”
The server bowed. “Yes, miss. Someone delivered us candies that weren’t worth eating, but we’ve thrown them all away. You’re not to worry.”
“Weren’t worth—? But . . .”
Sam drew me away by the elbow.
“Weren’t worth eating?” I looked up at him. “What was wrong with them?”
“Lucy . . .”
“No one liked them?”
“It wasn’t the candy exactly. It’s just that nobody liked the way they tasted. Maybe if—”
“No one?” No one had liked my candy? My father had been right. There was no place for me in his business. And it wasn’t because I was a girl. He must have been trying to spare my feelings all this time. The truth of it was that I had no taste. I was just like that awful Walter Minard . . . and that’s what hurt most of all. I took a step back from Sam.
“Lucy, wait—”
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I turned from him, gathered up my trailing skirt, and ran.
12
I looked beyond the man who had introduced himself to me. The Queen of Love and Beauty was over by the food tables, talking to one of the
“You have to come over. Sometime this week. We can—or maybe . . . no. I forgot that Georgie has the colic. Maybe next week. He should be over it by then. I’ll let you know. I’ll send a note.” She kissed me on the cheek and moved away, leaving me standing there watching her.
Who was Georgie?
A fluttering hand caught my eye. “Yoo-hoo!”
I had no trouble recognizing that wave. Or that voice: Winnie Compton. I grabbed the hand of the woman standing next to me and shook it. “So pleased to see you here tonight.”
Her eyes registered surprise and then her brows drew together in consternation. “Have we . . . met?”
No. We hadn’t met. But talking to a stranger was better than talking to Winnie Compton. I was hoping the woman would feel compelled to say something—anything!—but she only gathered up the skirts of her gown and turned her shoulder to me.
I felt a tap on my arm. “Lucy Kendall. It is you, isn’t it?”
What could I say? Of course it was me! Who else would it be? Talking to Winnie always made me feel so irritated. And surly.
“So you’re back.” She was smiling at me. She was always smiling. I used to think that if someone threatened to murder her, the only thing she’d do in reply would be to smile and thank him.
“Yes.”
“And you’re the queen this year.”
Yes. I was.
“We’re the only two from our class that haven’t married yet. Or gone off to the Orient as missionaries. Or gone to college. Or . . .” She leaned closer. “Eloped. I guess it’s just the pair of us.”
I felt a desperate longing to be engaged. “It was so nice talking to you, Winnie, but I really need to go now.”
Her smile wobbled. “Oh. All right, then. That’s fine.” Anotherreason I felt like throttling Winnie: She always made me feel as if I’d somehow disappointed her. And she was awfully nice. She’d never done anything to anyone except smile. I was a bad person.
“When are your at-home days, Winnie?”
“This week?”
I already regretted the words I was going to say, but I nodded anyway.
“Thursdays. From two o’clock until four.”
“I’ll come for a visit.”
“You will?” Her smile grew even larger, her eyes even wider.
I nodded. “I promise.”
She squealed and kissed me on the cheek, then darted away toward the dance floor.
At last I reached the refreshments. As I surveyed the table, my spirits lifted. There wasn’t one piece of candy left. I clasped my hands to my chest as I looked at Sam. “It’s a success, then? It looks like every piece has been eaten!” As I spoke, a server whisked away one of the empty trays.
“No, Lucy, it’s—”
Mistaking him for a fellow server, the man turned to Sam. “Now that those awful candies are gone, go back into the kitchen and get something else to take their place.”
Had he said . . . ? “Did you say—?”
The server bowed. “Yes, miss. Someone delivered us candies that weren’t worth eating, but we’ve thrown them all away. You’re not to worry.”
“Weren’t worth—? But . . .”
Sam drew me away by the elbow.
“Weren’t worth eating?” I looked up at him. “What was wrong with them?”
“Lucy . . .”
“No one liked them?”
“It wasn’t the candy exactly. It’s just that nobody liked the way they tasted. Maybe if—”
“No one?” No one had liked my candy? My father had been right. There was no place for me in his business. And it wasn’t because I was a girl. He must have been trying to spare my feelings all this time. The truth of it was that I had no taste. I was just like that awful Walter Minard . . . and that’s what hurt most of all. I took a step back from Sam.
“Lucy, wait—”
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I turned from him, gathered up my trailing skirt, and ran.
12
I looked beyond the man who had introduced himself to me. The Queen of Love and Beauty was over by the food tables, talking to one of the
Similar Books
