Chapter 30 Olivia

Chapter 30

Olivia

Olivia had waited for Ruby to return with their drinks, and then it was time for her next dance: Mr.Stone, in his new tuxedo, had taken her into his arms and together, they now turned across the dance floor, enveloped in the faint scent of mint. For once, her parents let her enjoy her evening without their quiet suggestions and thinly veiled attempts at matchmaking. However, there was one gentleman waiting in the wings for his name to come up on her dance card. Until it was Washington’s turn, though, Olivia would enjoy this dance with Mr.Stone.

“I think this is the biggest birthday party I’ve attended,” said Mr.Stone.

It was a wonderful party. Lively and well-attended, despite Helen’s indifference. And her sister had transformed. With the race on the horizon, Helen Marie Davenport was on a mission to be exemplary.

The Davenport motorcar was ready and waiting. Their father and the board had agreed to Helen and John’s terms: View the motorcar in action and give fair consideration to the proposal. Their father promised to keep an open mind, though he still harbored doubts that the company’s customers would want to abandon what they had always known.

Helen stood with their mother and father now, conversing with the Andrews family. Olivia noticed how her sister watched the entrance to the ballroom. Helen, to her credit, laughed and appeared attentive to her guests. She’d danced with the eligible young men and kept the boredom she usually let show at these events from her expression—though Olivia did notice the faces she pulled over her shoulder at Mr.Swift. Olivia had made sure it was common knowledge that Etta Lawrence was the unattached cousin of Mr.Lawrence. And she held out hope that her sister would soon find happiness.

“I heard the test drive went well,” said Mr.Stone.

Olivia exhaled. “I hope for their sake it works.”

“You are part of a very determined and inventive family.” His eyes found hers, smiling their secret smile. “I doubt there’s any obstacle that a Davenport cannot overcome.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she welcomed the weight of his hand at her back.

“We are determined,” she said with a smile. When she finally spotted Jacob and Etta Lawrence, she also saw Ruby, forever in tune, approaching the pair to welcome them. Her friend threaded her arm through Etta’s and guided the young woman to the table of ladies her age. From her vantage point on the dance floor, Olivia watched Mr.Lawrence find her parents. The three of them huddled together. Her grip tightened on Mr.Stone’s when he tried to turn. And a good thing. Her mother and father both stiffened and looked to where Helen stood with Amy-Rose.

Mrs.Davenport thawed first. She was speaking, that much Olivia could tell in the gaps created by the dancers around them. Then she saw it! Jacob Lawrence approached Helen and bowed slightly before her. The expression on Helen’s face was one of cool aloofness, but Olivia could see the way her sister’s lips parted.

Olivia smiled at Mr.Stone. She’d leave her sister to her moment. “I’ve selected the topic for my next article,” she said to him.

“You’ve narrowed it down, then? Last we spoke, the options were multiplying.”

“I’m going to write about the suffragist march, about the need for women to have a say in those who govern.” And this time, sign my name below the text. She’d thought long and hard about what Washington had said at dinner. It wasn’t so different from how he’d challenged her when they’d first met. It was leveraging her name. But she would go one step further than marching this time—not stop at the end of the street or the door of the charity, but up the steps of the city and state buildings where the decisions were made. Penning her name would be the start.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.” The song ended and Mr.Stone bowed his head. His glasses slid down his nose and he reached up to adjust them.

She thought of telling him her plan now. Or it could be a surprise. Instead, she settled on sharing what interested her. “Later, I will write one about public defenders and the clients they represent. Oh! And the growing string of Black-owned businesses downtown.”

He laughed and held her closer. Olivia breathed him in, and wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the mint on his breath. She looked at his mouth. When her gaze met his, she saw the desire she felt reflected in his eyes. His full lips parted as the music started again. The couple next to them bumped his shoulder, jolting them apart.

“Thank you, Mr.Stone.” She took a step backward, and glanced at her dance card. Only a short break until the next song. Then her dance with Washington was set to begin. She excused herself, reluctantly, smiling at Mr.Stone, feeling the dampness at her temples. Her fingers tingled and she searched the crowd for Ruby. She couldn’t wait to tell her best friend how well her night was going. But first. A little powder for her face was needed. The room off the ballroom was for guests and already occupied. Olivia knew it was rude to disappear during a party, but she would only be a few moments. Who will notice?

Olivia made it back to the foyer where the painting of the two boys in the field hung and the grandfather clock loomed. Just as she climbed the first step, Washington DeWight appeared from the hallway to the kitchen.

“Washington!” Her hands pressed to her chest.

“Olivia, you look…” He paused and held the lapels of his tuxedo. “Lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You look very handsome yourself.”

He studied her from across the foyer like he was committing her face to memory. Then he moved, the music from the ballroom swallowing his footfalls as each carried him closer to her. Still flustered from her dance, his nearness reignited the heat she felt. Confused but unable to pull her eyes from him, she didn’t move. Not when he brushed away a lock of her hair. Or when his fingers grazed her collarbone. Not even when he glanced over his shoulder, turned back to her on the step, and tipped his head up to kiss her.

Olivia’s mind went blank, floating in the pine scent of him, the familiar warmth of his mouth on hers. She knew she should stop. What she was doing was not fair. And there was the danger of being seen.

Knowing what you should do and actually doing it are two different things, she thought.

She pulled away. “Washington.”

“That was inappropriate but I don’t regret it. I miss you and how things were between us.”

“There’s something you should know.” She was truly breathless now. How could she explain the fact she had feelings for him and Mr.Stone?

“And now your parents are beginning to see me,” he continued. “I think it’s just a matter of time before they realize what we can accomplish together. It’s a great start that they’re aware of the activism you currently do.”

“Mr.Stone and I—”

He took both her hands in his. “I know. He works for your father. He’s not rich like Lawrence, but I can see the appeal.” He was talking about Mr.Stone as if he’d decided all of her reservations for her. “He’s a safe choice, Olivia.”

Though Washington was wrong about Jacob Lawrence, he was right about Mr.Stone. He was the safe choice. But so was Olivia. She had found a calling for which she was passionate. It was not thrill-seeking like auto-racing. It was not creative in the way of fashion or hairdressing. Though it could be, she realized. It was not full of travel and speeches and crowds and danger. It was not the way Washington DeWight would choose. But his way left space for little else.

She stepped down from the stair. “Washington, do you plan to stay in Chicago?”

“For a time,” he said, not pausing a moment, “then back to DC, and maybe Philadelphia again. Tulsa.”

“Then back here?”

Olivia watched his features change.

“Do you dream of buying a house, building a home, nurturing a family and a community? Watching them grow and change under your care?”

Washington’s expression lost some of its fire. “You mean, if I intend to make Chicago my home.” He looked at their clasped hands, then up at her face, his own full of sincerity and eager determination. “You can be my home, Olivia.” Her heart raced. In his face was everything she’d waited so long to see. It was better than she’d imagined. All guile and honey-coated talk stripped away. She imagined their life together, fighting for change. A campaign that would evolve but never end. His words took their time to sink in. For Olivia, home was Chicago, it was Freeport Manor and her family, her friends. But for Washington DeWight, home could never be a place. It would always be an idea. They could not share the home she’d always envisioned for her future.

Before she could respond, Mr.Stone’s voice cut through the silence. “I’ll place it right here, Mrs.Johnson,” he said, laying a fascinator on the table below the painting. Olivia turned in time to see him assisting her mother’s friend.

“Thank you, dear,” said Mrs.Johnson. She patted Mr.Stone’s arm and tottered away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Mr.Stone turned and said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” His face looked stricken, his gaze falling to their clasped hands, how they stood so close, perhaps close enough to disrupt the rouge on her lips, to transfer it to Washington’s.

Mr.Stone turned and began to make his way back to the party.

“Everett, wait.” Olivia rushed passed Washington. Her heart pounded in her ears. Foggily, she realized she called out to him by his first name. She had never done so before and if she was overheard… What have I done?

When Mr.Stone spun to face her, the hurt on his face had magnified. “Mrs.Johnson mentioned the two of were strolling in the park together, that your chaperone let you…wander?”

“We went to talk. After outpacing Mrs.Milford, we lost our way.” Olivia did not say what happened next, but she was sure that the heat that flooded her face was enough.

“Instead of being honest, you kept this from me?”

Olivia’s heart felt like it had fallen to the ground. She and Mr.Stone had not talked about what was happening between them since that afternoon on the porch, when he had planted the seed in her mind that writing could be another way to use her voice.

“I think I have my answer,” said Mr.Stone. “We were meant to be friends first. Always.”

Olivia stood speechless. She watched his gaze travel from hers to a point just behind her. Washington had followed them. Shame burned her face.

Mr.Stone bowed his head. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Davenport. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” He left then, taking with him a piece of her that she had not fully realized she’d given. Not till now. A group of guests entered the hall, and she kept her feet rooted to the floor as she carefully wiped her face. Their laughter grated. Her smile was brittle as she attempted to hide the turmoil mounting in her chest.

Washington DeWight stood beside her. “Some distance will do you good. George has decided to head back to the capital at the end of the month. Hetty can come along as your companion so your parents can rest assured that you’re well taken care of.”

As the ballroom opened before them, and the hundreds of guests gathered to celebrate her sister laughed and floated across the dance floor, Olivia knew these moments were not ones she would trade away. She knew Everett Stone was not one she would trade away. “The capital?”

“Yes, that’s where all the action is.” Washington placed her hand into the crook of his elbow and began walking them back into the party. His description of their future, filled with travel and activism, tripped off his tongue as if it were decided. There was no talk of marriage or family, of her charitable work or her writing, which he still knew nothing about, of her family or a return to Chicago. It sounded exciting and rewarding, perhaps fulfilling. But it wasn’t everything she wanted. It was a life full of adventure and compromise—mostly on her end, from the sound of it.

She was no more ready to leave Chicago than she had been two months ago.