Chapter 27 Amy-Rose

Chapter 27

Amy-Rose

Amy-Rose stood in front of the green letter box with the midday traffic roaring behind her. Her letter to her sister felt hot in her hand. She had struggled with what to say for a week. In the end, she decided to take Olivia’s advice. Her reply would weigh more than her words. So she’d kept it short and simple: Dear Elizabeth, you have given me a gift more precious than you know. The truth, though difficult to read, has given me courage and a new perspective. If you should ever wish to meet, it would bring me great joy. Your sister, Amy-Rose Shepherd

Her hand shook as she wrote the last two lines. After years of perceived rejection, the offer to meet Elizabeth Evans scared her. But she realized that in the past few months, she had done a number of scary things. The letter dropped to the bottom of the box with a whisper, a weight lifted off her shoulders.

Amy-Rose squinted against the sun and readjusted her hat. She walked the short distance to the salon and pushed her way in. The bell of the door chimed and Helen Davenport sat exactly where she had left her. “If you’re going to occupy the space behind my counter, you are going to work,” said Amy-Rose as she handed Helen an apron and deposited the sandwiches she’d picked up from the deli.

“Do I have to wear this?” asked Helen.

“Yes, today is Tuesday. Prep day, and you will not be leaving this salon covered in”—Amy-Rose paused, sizing up the condition of Helen’s plum frock—“more stains than usual.” And just as she expected, Helen glanced down at her dress.

“It’s clean!”

“For now.” Amy-Rose smiled. Helen followed her upstairs, where two of Amy-Rose’s hairdressers were labeling jars. She enjoyed the company. She donned an apron of her own and began to pipe the caramel and banana treatment into the small glass jars. “You know,” Amy-Rose said, “your mother and Olivia will plan this whole party without you if you continue to avoid it.”

“Please, not you too. Livy and Mama are enough. I don’t want a party. I don’t need a party. They’ve planned so many of them, they don’t really need me. The only thing I want a say in is my dress, and I’ve got that sorted out. I am committed to playing my part the day of but until then…”

“So, when you show up one afternoon to a ballroom full of people, what will you do?”

“Run and hide,” her friend answered with a sigh. “At least until my birthday passes?” Helen tapped her chin and stared off. “That may be the best plan I’ve had yet.”

Amy-Rose felt herself lean back as she placed her hands on her hips. The gesture instantly made her think of Jessie, and it warmed her heart to be impersonating the cook. “Yes, and I suppose you’ll have to miss the exhibition race too.”

Helen froze. “I can’t miss the race. Daddy and the board will be there. He’s no longer calling automobiles a passing fancy.”

“Yes, but—”

Helen’s eyes brightened. “The current factory won’t be converted, at least not now. Daddy won’t have it. But the space John bought can be designed from the ground up. It’s a big open space, a blank canvas for us to arrange as we want. Though John’s been cagey about using that too.”

Amy-Rose felt her heart shudder. Her instinct told her that the space John owned but would not use was the property he’d purchased for her after she’d lost Mr.Spencer’s storefront. The same building she’d handed back to him in the midst of their heartbreak.

She shook away the thought. “One way to convince your father that you are ready for more responsibility is to accept the obligations you have now.” Amy-Rose leveled a gaze at Helen. “And stop avoiding what’s expected of you.”

“But if everyone just accepted what was expected of them, there would be no progress.” She gestured to the salon. “Your customers and stylists are proof.”

It’s true that Amy-Rose had achieved the unexpected. Her dream, which she’d spent hours sketching away in a notebook, had become reality—she could touch and smell, and it felt like home. The disappointment of all the setbacks faded, for a moment. They already knew her by name at Binga Bank, but now people held doors open for her at restaurants, she was the one called “Miss” and attended to at the boutiques downtown.

“You’re right. Many people didn’t expect this of me. But I did, Helen. And I didn’t avoid my work or commitments along the way.” She reached across the table and grasped Helen’s hand. “I know you feel as if this party will change things, change you. I’m here to tell you that it won’t.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have your mother in your ear talking about hemlines and…Oh, Amy-Rose.”

“Don’t. My mother and I had our disagreements. I was fifteen and was starting to have my own ideas of how our life should be.” Again Amy-Rose imagined what it might be like to have her mother with her now, for her to see what her daughter had accomplished. Her heart ached, though it was briefer this time, as though the loss were easier to carry knowing she had made choices that would make her mother proud. And then there were the letters—proof that Clara Shepherd had experienced great love. She was sure her mother and father would have wanted that for their daughter too.

Before Amy-Rose’s thoughts could slide again to John, she smiled at Helen and pinched the young woman’s cheek. “Cheer up. Maybe I can pose as an anonymous suiter and sign your dance card during the waltz, and the two of us can hide in the kitchen.”

Helen surprised Amy-Rose by throwing her arms around her neck. “Thank you.”

“Helen,” Amy-Rose said, “have you spoken to Mr.Lawrence?”

Helen withdrew, a dejected look on her face. “Briefly after Sunday service.”

Amy-Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you decided to give him another chance?”

Helen blushed. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Helen,” said Amy-Rose. “Avoiding communication only makes things worse. Trust me.”

“You’re as bad as Livy.”

“Okay, fine. We won’t talk about him. How about Mr.Swift?” Amy-Rose gave Helen a knowing look. She’d spotted the pair and his motorcar parked outside the garage on occasion. “You do an awful lot of laughing together, and you have such a lot in common.”

Helen’s face puckered.

“ And he’s dreamy,” Amy-Rose added.

Helen smiled then. “I’ve learned a fair amount from him. We enjoy some colorful exchanges, yes, but harmless fun.” Amy-Rose lifted her eyebrows. Helen’s gaze fell to the counter. “We have a great time together. I’m not looking for a relationship, though. At least not a romantic one. Do you think a young man and woman can be friends?”

Amy-Rose thought about Tommy. How close and encouraging their friendship was. She was happy to have received his letter congratulating her on the opening of the salon. But oh, how she’d have loved to see him in person. “I do,” she answered. Then she thought of John, of how their attraction defied her expectations last spring and, this summer, upended the boundaries she’d created when she first left Freeport.

Helen tilted her head. “Are you thinking of John?” she asked.

At the sound of his name, Amy-Rose’s body reacted. She remembered his lips on hers. His woodsy scent. Then his crawling script in the letter he’d written, where he’d said he’d chosen her. She loved him. And she knew he loved her. After sharing some of the contents of her parents’ letters with him at dinner, and revealing to him the existence of her sister, and feeling his joy at these discoveries, something had shifted between them. But so many of her walls still remained. Amy-Rose would not allow him to risk his inheritance when he was so close to achieving everything he’d wanted. And she lacked conviction when it came to Mr.Davenport’s evolved opinion. He had said many kind things to her since his return. She had felt the warmth and regard in his words. But he had always been kind to her, and still able to reduce her to what he had said in the garden that night to John— daughter of a slave owner . A future where John did not exist beside her was unbearable to imagine, though. She didn’t realize her eyes had fluttered closed until Helen let out a loud “Whoop!”

“Oh boy, are they right? Is John charming and irresistible?”

Amy-Rose laughed, her face warm. “I suppose so. I—I just don’t know how we move forward.”

Helen tapped her chin. “May I suggest, communication? A wise young woman once told me”—she looked at her wrist as if at a timepiece—“approximately three minutes ago, that ‘avoiding communication only makes things worse.’?”

Amy-Rose’s laugh was interrupted by Sandra. Her employee placed a box on the table and said. “There’s a couple peering through a window downstairs.”

Amy-Rose looked at the other stylist. “Were you expecting anyone?” She shook her head. It’d been a long day. She had checked that the sign said closed before they’d made their way upstairs. As much as she’d hate to turn anyone away, none of them were up to taking on a client that afternoon. Amy-Rose removed her apron and descended the stairs. “I’m sorry, we’re closed today,” she called as she approached the door.

A couple parted when she pulled it open. “Mr.King?” The gentleman removed his hat and grinned. He ushered his companion in before him, squeezing past Amy-Rose before proper introductions could be made.

“Miss Shepherd,” said Mr.King. “Congratulations again.”

“My apologies. I’m not taking any clients today. Perhaps you and your friend can come back tomorrow?” Amy-Rose squinted. The woman was looking around, and as she turned on her heel toward Amy-Rose, the face of Ruth Davis stole her breath. “Miss Davis?”

Her mentor’s daughter took in the space again, her eyes gleaming. “Quite the salon you have.”

“Yes,” said Amy-Rose. Her stomach tightened as Miss Davis walked slowly across the floor. She watched her pick up a jar, open it, breaking the seal.

“Smells delicious,” said Miss Davis, closing the jar partway and placing it on one of the vanities.

“The New York socialites love it,” added Mr.King.

“Thank you.” A shuffle of steps to her back alerted Amy-Rose to Helen’s presence. “Like I explained to Mr.King, I’m not taking any clients today. I’d be happy to schedule you for an appointment tomorrow.” Amy-Rose waited for her response. The way Ruth Davis examined the salon made Amy-Rose uneasy. This was like a scene from a nightmare.

“Why, Miss Davenport, you are a devoted friend. Helping Amy-Rose here.” Ruth Davis gestured to the apron Helen held in her hand. She dropped her voice to an audible whisper. “I know my mother supported you in your endeavor here, Miss Shepherd. If you do need an infusion of cash, I would be happy to assist—for a percentage of the ownership, of course.” She shook her head. “I’d hate to think you were struggling to bring in enough staff to maintain this beautiful place she helped you build.”

Helen’s fists clenched around the apron and her lips parted.

Amy-Rose came to stand between her friend and Miss Davis. “That is very kind of you to offer, but I’m doing just fine.” Her face felt tight with the strength of her smile. This was her salon and she was going to keep it. All of it.

“I do admire your tenacity,” said Miss Davis. “I hear you have a great big birthday coming up, Miss Davenport,” she said to Helen.

“Unfortunately,” said Helen, her voice tight. Her eyes were hard.

“Aw, don’t sound like that! It’s true getting older isn’t the best thing for a woman, but age has its advantages. Why, look at your girl Amy-Rose. She is a strong independent woman, running her own salon and hair care line. ” Miss Davis tapped a manicured nail on the counter. “Birthdays get you one day closer to freedom and the life you want.”

“How did you learn of Helen’s birthday?” asked Amy-Rose, carefully controlling her tone.

“It’s one of the hottest tickets in town,” said Benjamin King. “You’re either really lucky or really smart to befriend not only the Davenports, but also the Tremaines.”

“And also to befriend my mother,” said Miss Davis.

“Lucky,” answered Amy-Rose.

Ruth Davis nodded. “I’m afraid I’m in meetings all day tomorrow. My hair will have to wait for another day.”

“That’s too bad,” said Amy-Rose. “Maybe some other time.” Mr.King tipped his hat and had the grace to look apologetic as he escorted Miss Davis from the salon. The hairs at the nape of Amy-Rose’s neck stood on end. She sensed this visit was intended to rattle her. She looked down at her shaking hands and pulled them into fists. This salon was hers, and no one would take it from her.