Page 3 of Under the Tulip Tree
Mary shot me a narrowed scowl and opened her mouth to retort, but Mama’d had enough.
“Girls,” she said in that stern way she used when she was put out with us. “It’s no joking matter to find a husband who comes from a good family. You’re both old enough to consider possible marriage prospects.” She focused her gaze on me. “I expect you to make a fine showing at the ball, and you—” she turned to Mary—“shouldn’t lead Roy into believing you care more for him than you apparently do.”
Her seriousness had the opposite effect, and I felt a giggle lodge in my throat. I couldn’t look at Mary. I knew I’d burst into laughter if I did.
We finished breakfast, with Mama shooing me away from helping with the dishes since it was my birthday. Mary stuck her tongue out at me as she picked up a dish towel, but then followed it with a wink. I went upstairs to my room. The gown Mama’s favorite seamstress designed for the ball hung on a dress form near the window. I had to admit I loved the silky white material and lace overlay on the skirt. Mama insisted the hem fall at my ankles rather than the shorter style that was popular, but I didn’t mind. At my last fitting, I couldn’t believe how sophisticated and grown-up I looked.
A glance in the bureau mirror to my messy hair and fuzzy pink bathrobe brought me back to reality.
I’d always considered Mary prettier than me. With her blue eyes and blonde curls, she was Mama’s daughter through and through. I, on the other hand, had Daddy’s boring brown hair and eyes, which although striking in the right light, didn’t catch boys’ attention the way Mary’s did. Maybe that’s why I never cared too much about catching their attention. The man I married someday would like me just the way I was.
A single sheet of printed paper lay on my desk. I snatched it up and stretched out on the bed, grinning. Seeing my byline in the school newspaper never ceased to please me. Mr. Snyder, my English teacher and editor of the paper, said I had a gift for storytelling. He’d encouraged me to join the small group ofreportersduring my sophomore year and promoted me to assistant editor this year. I dreamed of writing forLife,Collier’s, or one of the other major magazines in New York City after college, but for now my article on who stole the school’s stuffed eagle mascot would have to suffice.
Much to my disappointment, Daddy did not come home for lunch. Mama didn’t want to drive into the city, so we ate bologna sandwiches instead of shrimp and lobster at the Maxwell House Hotel. True to Mary’s prediction, Roy met us at the hall. He was so preoccupied with greeting her that he completely neglected to wish me a happy birthday.
Decorating went well. We were almost finished when the catering truck arrived. Mama waylaid the rotund man—Iforgot his name—and issued directives to his two helpers on where to place the platters of food, the punch bowl, and a lovely five-tiered cake decorated with fresh flowers. At one point, however, I looked across the room and found Mama in an intense, whispered conversation with the man, which seemed odd. Mama wasn’t one to flirt with strange men, and although I wouldn’t necessarily call their secret conversation flirting, it made me uncomfortable.
I walked outside and noticed the two helpers having whispered conversations of their own. When they found me watching, they went back to work, but my skin crawled, as though I should be aware of something but wasn’t.
Mama fell quiet on the ride home. Even Mary, who wasn’t always mindful of other people’s feelings, gave me a questioning look. I indicated I didn’t know what was wrong and left it at that. At home, I bathed and dressed for the evening. I certainly could have used Dovie’s help with the tiny pearl buttons on the back of my peach-colored party dress and breathed a sigh of thanks when Mary appeared in the doorway wearing a green silk gown that made her skin look like cream.
“Roy told me something in confidence,” she whispered, coming up behind me to fasten the buttons.
“That usually means the other person doesn’t want you to divulge what’s being said.”
She pinched my arm, and I squealed in pain. “I know that, but I need to tell someone. I can’t tell Mama.”
Now she had me interested. “Go on.”
Finished with the buttons, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking more serious than I’d ever seen her.
I frowned. “Did Roy propose to you?” I’d be rather put out if he had, being that today wasmybirthday. I didn’t want anyone or anything stealing the thunder I was only allowed once a year.
She shook her head, golden curls bouncing. “He told me something frightening.”
I waited, my imagination already spinning a web. She rose and partially closed the door.
“Roy’s father told his mother that Daddy’s bank is in trouble. Something about the stock market in New York.” She shrugged slim shoulders. “He said his father is very upset.”
“What kind of trouble?” Yet even as I asked, I knew it was a silly question. Neither of us understood much about the world of finance where our father lived and breathed.
“Roy says Daddy could lose everything.” Mary’s whisper and rounded eyes sent a chill racing up my spine. Was this what the radio announcer meant last Thursday when he spoke of a recession? “And because Roy’s father is so heavily invested in Daddy’s bank, his family might be in trouble too.”
I stood rooted to my bedroom floor and stared at Mary’s pale face. “That’s not possible.” I tried to recall anything I’d ever heard in economics class about the stock market, but nothing surfaced. “Daddy’s banks are here, in Tennessee. They don’t have anything to do with what’s going on in NewYork.”
“Then why would Roy’s daddy be worried?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
The telephone rang downstairs a short time later. I looked at the clock on my bureau. It was half past three.
I held my breath and listened as Mama hurried to answer. Her words were indistinct, yet I couldn’t bring myself to tiptoe to the door and eavesdrop. I prayed the caller was Grandma Lorena asking for a ride to the party or Dovie wishing me a happy birthday.
The piercing scream that rent the air a moment later told me it was neither.
CHAPTERTWO
NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
