Page 58 of The Maid's Secret

Dance after dance, the mood in the room crescendoed. Buttons were undone and ties removed. Never had the Gray ballroom been worked into such a frenzy. A ruddy sheen blossomed on the women’s faces. All decorum surrendered to the pure provocation of the new rock ’n’ roll.

It got so warm that I downed two glasses of champagne, then headed to the ladies’ powder room, where the window was cracked open and the air was not quite so charged. I ran my wrists under cool water and looked at myself in the mirror. My pupils were so large I barely recognized myself.

Just then, I heard sobbing, a girl’s voice catching in her throat. I turned to see a young lady in a light blue gown sitting on a velvet settee in the corner. Beside her was Mrs.Mead, an arm rubbing her back.

I dried my hands and made my way over. “Is everything all right?” I asked Mrs.Mead, for the girl’s head was in her hands.

“Bring a tissue for her issue,” Mrs.Mead whispered.

I spotted the uniformed attendant on the other side of the powder room and asked for a package, bringing it to my nursemaid.

“There, there,” Mrs.Mead said as she offered the girl a tissue from the pack. “Dry your eyes, my dear. Take a breath.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I mouthed to Mrs.Mead.

“We’ll discuss this later,” she replied. “I’ve sent John to look for you, Flora. Keep him close, you hear? Dance with him.”

“I danced with him already,” I said.

The girl broke down into a full chorus of sobs, and Mrs.Mead rocked her back and forth while giving me the green-eye-blue-eye signal that I should be on my way.

I left the powder room and was heading back to the ballroom when I felt a hand on my arm.

It was John, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide. “Flora,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Am I not allowed to go to the ladies’ room?” I asked, withdrawing my arm.

“Of course you are,” he replied. “Listen…just…be careful out there,” he said as his eyes traveled to the ballroom entrance and the frenzy within.

Oh, Molly, I don’t relish admitting this, but in that moment, every fiber of my being suddenly revolted. In my deep state of youthful confusion, I found myself catapulted back to that place where love and hate exist in close proximity. And without realizing what I was doing, I turned a switch inside myself. All the hatred I’d once felt for John surged forth again, and I forgot the other feelings that hadblossomed. Who did John think he was, trying to control me and tell me what to do? Why did he want to pin me down when all I wanted to do was fly?

“We dance once, and now you think you’re the boss of me?” I said.

“What?” he replied. “No, it’s just that…people have been talking. I’m just saying you might want to be careful because—”

“You’re jealous,” I said. “And you can’t admit it. Leave me be.”

“Flora, wait!”

But I didn’t wait. Instead, I rushed to the ballroom like a moth drawn to a flame. Inside, I searched for him—Algernon—and found him with a highball in hand, holding court with Percival Peterson and the boys from class. He was telling them a story, and their heads were thrown back in laughter. While they celebrated Algernon, he glanced my way, and I felt my stomach flutter. I waved.

“There she is,” he said. “Will you excuse me, boys?”

He sauntered over to me. “Flora, how old are you?” he asked.

“Seventeen,” I replied.

“Old enough,” he said.

“And you?” I asked.

“Twenty-one,” he replied as he downed the rest of his drink. I’d figured he was a bit older than me, but I didn’t realize by how much until that moment. “What do you say?” he asked.

“What do I say to what?” He always spoke some youthful patois I didn’t quite understand.

“Do you like convertibles?”

“The automobile?” I asked.

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