Page 80 of As Many Souls as Stars
Once they were finished with their caviar, they went to stand by the bar. Walter conversed with some other businessmen, while Rosamund leaned against him and watched the room warily, champagne still fizzing in her gut.
It’s fine, she told herself.It’s what you wanted. It’s all going well.
Walt ordered them more drinks: a mai tai for him, and a scotch for Rosamund. As she took her first sip, he elbowed her gently in the side. ‘That woman is staring at you.’
Rosamund nearly dropped her drink. ‘What? Where?’
Walt gestured with his chin to a woman standing alone by the bar. She was pretty, a bottle blonde, all curves and so short she washalfway on her tiptoes as she spoke to the bartender. Her features were fair and wholesome, and she had a deep, cherubic cleft in her chin.
‘She’s pretty,’ he said.
Rosamund’s shoulders slumped. ‘Really?’
‘C’mon, have some fun. We’ve got three days to kill here.’
She considered the woman for a moment longer, then shrugged. ‘Watch my purse.’
She walked toward the woman and slid onto the seat beside her, putting her scotch down on the bar.
‘Are you waiting for someone?’ Rosamund asked her.
The woman, who was now staring at her bust quite transparently, said, ‘Well—oh—hello,’ in a shrill, transatlantic accent.
‘Hello,’ Rosamund said.
‘Um—am I—waiting for someone?’
‘Yes, that’s what I asked.’
‘Gosh, well, no, I’m not. But I’m travelling alone, so I thought I should make a habit of getting out of the cabin, before I get stuck in there.’
Rosamund smiled at her. The blonde grinned in response; then she became embarrassed, and looked away, flustered. She thrust her hand out to Rosamund. ‘Vivien Hale,’ she said.
‘Rosamund Ha— Jennings,’ she replied, shaking the hand. ‘You said you’re travelling alone?’
‘My brother was supposed to come with me, but he’s ended up at a sanatorium—doctors said best not to move him. We’ve got family on both ends; I was in London for a couple of years, and now I’m heading back. My mother’s in Brooklyn and…’
She continued in this vein for quite a while, offering enough information to fill several biographies. Rosamund swirled her scotch in its glass and sipped slowly, wondering whether this was really worth it. It wasn’t as if Vivian was hertype, after all. She glanced back to Walt, briefly, but he was talking to a stranger: a handsome man, tall and slender, dark-skinned, with buzzed hair and a thin moustache. It was best not to interrupt.
‘… Do you?’ Vivien Hale was saying.
‘Hm?’
‘Have family in the States?’
‘No.’
‘I should’ve guessed. With that accent, I bet you’re English through and through. Probably some sort of lady or duchess or something, huh?’ She tittered. ‘Do you know any royalty?’
Rosamund drained the rest of her scotch. When she put down the glass, she saw movement in the corner of her eye. It was only a brief vision—a flutter of dark hair, a sharp profile, disappearing behind the door on the other side of the bar. It made her feel as if she’d been thrown into boiling water.
‘Mrs Jennings?’ Vivien said. ‘Is something wrong?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing. Listen—it was lovely meeting you, Miss Hale. I’m certain we’ll see each other again soon.’
‘You’re leaving?’ Vivien said, bereft.
Rosamund slid off her stool. ‘Forgive me. I’ve made other plans.’
