Across a Crowded Room

  Across A Crowded Room

  By Jane Alden

  ©2018 Jane Alden

  ISBN (book): 9781942976899

  ISBN (epub): 9781942976905

  ISBN (pdf): 9781942976912

  This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main St, Suite 220

  Watsonville, CA 95076

  www.desertpalmpress.com

  Editor: Glenda Poulter

  Cover Design: Michelle Brodeur

  Acknowledgements

  To Desert Palm Press publisher Lee Fitzsimmons for believing in Across a Crowded Room, always doing what she says she’ll do, and providing excellent support from editor Glenda Poulter and cover artist Michelle Brodeur.

  To all my beta readers and wise counselors, for your faith, encouragement, thoughtful advice, diligence, and support for Across a Crowded Room: Donna Connally, Jennifer Dawson, Shahla Sabet, and Kathleen Ward.

  To my compadres in the Second Sunday Writers’ Group, for the chance to learn from each other: Rachel Rudich, Anne Scott-Putney, Astrid Sheil, and Susan Stocker.

  Dedication

  To all those wonderful women across all those crowded rooms

  Chapter One

  BENNIE THOUGHT IT WAS a bad idea, but Alice insisted that a pre-Christmas cocktail party would be just the thing to cheer Bennie up, and Bennie knew that her best friend felt responsible for her happiness. As they sped down the road, the top down on Alice’s big Packard convertible, even though it was December, Alice reached across the leather seat and took Bennie’s hand.

  “I’m worried about you. A little distraction and getting you out of that cramped, sad little room that you insist on living in will do you good.” Alice spoke with conviction, but Bennie saw her glance at her, looking for affirmation. “I promise we’ll leave whenever you like.”

  “I know you and parties. You never want to leave.” Bennie squeezed Alice’s hand. “You’re such a good friend to worry about me, but I’m afraid this is something I have to go through. No way to make it better. And for your information, I’m not living in a cramped, sad little room, as you call it. I’m teaching drama in a fine girls’ boarding school and enjoying it. I love seeing the girls discover their talents. I don’t know what I’d do without it, being away from Livie so much. And directing at the community theater fills up the rest of my time.”

  They rode for a few miles, listening to Christmas carols on the radio. Alice turned down the volume. “Do you mind if I ask about the separation? Are you and Will any closer to a resolution?”

  “No. We meet next week in his lawyer’s office for another session of what Will calls pre-divorce planning. He was so anxious, after our big blowup, to throw me out of our home and take Livie to live at his mother’s. Now I think he’s using this time to make me 'come to my senses,' as he would put it, and side-line the divorce.”

  “Has he sold the house yet?”

  “No, and that’s another sign that he’s hoping for a reconciliation. It’s sitting empty while he and Livie live at his mother’s.” Bennie blinked hard to hold back the tears. “He’s as much as threatened that he’ll ask for full custody of Livie if I insist on going forward with the divorce.”

  “Can he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Bennie hesitated and glanced at Alice’s profile. “He wants my assurance there’s nothing more between you and me.”

  Alice raked a hand through her tousled dark hair. “I can testify to that, if you need me to, but I’d have to say it’s your choice, not mine.”

  Bennie patted Alice’s hand. “You’ll always be my best friend, though.”

  Alice swung the car into a circular driveway in front of a large Colonial-style house. It was decorated for the season like a giant Christmas present, tied up with strings of blinking red and green lights and a huge holly wreath with a red velvet bow on the imposing front door.

  “These people really take their celebrating seriously,” Bennie said.

  Parking attendants rushed to open the doors and help the two women out of the car.

  “Be careful with it.” Alice dropped the car keys into the young attendant’s hand. “It’s new.”

  The attendant grinned and saluted. “Yes Ma’am. A 1951 Packard 250 convertible. I’ve only seen these in pictures. She’s safe with me.”

  Bennie and Alice walked to the front door, and Bennie shivered a little, both from the cold and with a slight feeling of dread. She expected to know many of the guests from what she was beginning to think of as her former life. She sometimes enjoyed these parties, but she suspected the business with Will would make her too much of an object of curiosity. She pulled the collar of her coat closer.

  Before Alice could ring the doorbell, the door swung open and a tall man in a bright red dinner jacket, green bow tie, and plaid cummerbund, balancing a half-full martini glass, caught Alice up in a bear hug.

  “Get in here, Allie, and get something to drink. We’re way ahead of you. And this beautiful blond lady is Bennie Grant, am I right?”

  Alice put her arm around Bennie’s waist. “I can tell you’re way ahead of us, Ron. Yes, this is my friend Bennie Grant. Bennie, this is our host, Ronald Moncrieff.”

  Bennie stuck her hand out to shake his and ward off any bear hugs he had in mind for her. “How do you do, Ronald? Merry Christmas.”

  “I’m doing fine. Call me Ron. Come in and say hello to everyone. Here, let me take your coats.”

  Alice and Bennie stood in the archway on the edge of a large living room packed with women in cocktail dresses and men in black tie. An occasional high-pitched laugh floated over the noise of the crowd. A blue haze of cigarette smoke rose toward the ceiling. In the corner by a large fireplace stood a mammoth Christmas tree and under it were piled mounds of wrapped presents. Bennie’s eyes were drawn to the top of the tree where a delicately-poised angel seemed to survey the crowd.

  “You’re better off up there,” Bennie said under her breath.

  Alice steered her into the room and toward a thin woman dressed in red and green that matched Ron’s outfit. She was darting among the guests, offering drinks and making introductions.

  “Bennie Grant, Ruth Moncrieff,” Alice said once they caught up to her.

  “Oh, Bennie, so glad you could come. Alice mentioned you could use some Christmas cheer. Of course, we’ve heard about the separation and all, and we couldn’t be more sympathetic, a shame with your little girl and all. Not being ones for gossip, of course, we haven’t heard all the details.” Ruth took a breath and paused, looking at Bennie with a fixed smile. Here was the curiosity Bennie had expected. She shot Alice a glance.

  “Thanks so much for your hospitality. What a lovely tree,” Bennie said.

  “Oh, yes. These decorations have been in Ron’s family for generations. We can’t wait to pull them out every year and share them with, well, two hundred of our closest friends.” Ruth looked around at the noisy crowd.

  “Let’s get a drink, Bennie,” Alice said.

  Drink in hand, Bennie stood with two couples whom she knew from Town Players of New Canaan, the community theater group she belonged to. She watched Alice movin
g easily through the crowd and envied her friend’s ability to enjoy a social situation. She wondered how soon she could give Alice the “let’s leave” sign. In the meantime, she determined to make the best of the situation and joined in the polite small talk, falling back into the social dance that had characterized her eight-year marriage to Will.

  She excused herself from the group and slipped out the French doors leading to a patio. When the doors closed behind her, there was blessed silence, with only the muffled sounds of the party inside. A table and chairs were covered with canvas for the winter. The faint light from the house threw shadows in the garden beyond the patio. Bushes were draped with burlap bags tied with rope around their bases. The wind had loosened one of the ties and was billowing up the bush’s skirt. Bennie thought of the rose bushes in the garden behind the house where she and Will and Livie had lived together. She wondered if anyone thought to cover them before the weather changed.

  She shivered in the cold air as she took a cigarette from her purse and lit it with a gold lighter with her name engraved in fancy script. Bennie turned the lighter over in her hand. It was a gift from Will the day after they met at a debutante ball. Will told Bennie that he tracked the engraver down at his home on a Sunday and convinced him to do the work.

  From the first dance at the ball, Will pursued her over the next weeks with the same dogged determination as he had pursued the engraver. Will was stationed in Washington at the War Department and began coming to New York every weekend to see Bennie. She was only nineteen, younger than Will by ten years. She was used to boys her own age being attracted by her looks, but Will was different, more settled and mature. He proposed after only three months, telling Bennie that he had inside information that the war in Europe would soon be over, and that he wanted to get a head start on their life together. He described the house they would buy in Connecticut, near his parents, where he would come every weekend. He talked about the beautiful children they would have, and his place with his father’s commercial real estate firm once the war was over and things were back to normal.

  His picture of domestic bliss left out one important detail. What he hadn’t counted on was that, even though Bennie was young, she already knew her own mind. It became clear, once they were married, that her personality was not enough of a blank slate to suit him and his family. But then Livie came along, and he was on top of the world. He adored their daughter and turned his attention to acquiring things for her.

  Someone opened the French doors and the chatter of the party spilled out onto the patio. Bennie turned to see a tall, attractive man with dark hair and a mustache smiling at her. He came to her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Bennie, I saw you come outside and was beginning to think you’d frozen to death. Am I interrupting?”

  “No, Arthur. It’s good to see you. I hadn’t heard you were back from Europe. Let’s go inside. It is freezing out here.”

  They rejoined the circle of people Bennie knew, and one of the women said, “Why, Bennie and Arthur McCall. How do you know each other?” The woman leaned forward, looking back and forth from Bennie to Arthur.

  “Bennie and my sister were roommates at boarding school.” Arthur took Bennie’s hand and drew her away from the group. “You look as amazing as always, Bennie. You were the prettiest girl in Meg’s class, but never seemed to be aware of it.”

  “Thanks, Arthur, but I can hardly take credit for my looks. We inherit our features from our parents, right?” His hand was too warm and his grip on hers made her feel trapped. “Would you mind terribly getting me another drink?”

  As he headed to the bar, Bennie scanned the room to find Alice. She saw her near the fireplace, perched on the arm of a sofa, talking to a pretty young woman who smiled up at her, hanging on her every word. Alice looked across the room at Bennie and winked. Bennie was surprised to feel a small prick of emotion, jealousy or possessiveness. She frowned and mouthed, “Let’s go.”

  Arthur came back with a Manhattan in each hand.

  They sipped their drinks through an awkward silence. Bennie struggled to find a neutral topic.

  “How is Meg?” she asked.

  “She’s fine. Living in DC and working for Senator Margaret Chase Smith.”

  “You must be very proud of her. Rightfully so.”

  “I am.”

  “Meg’s invited me several times down to Washington for a visit,” Bennie said, “but I haven’t managed it. I think she’s given up on me.”

  “I doubt she’d do that.”

  “What about you, Arthur? Catch me up.” Bennie looked for Alice again, but she and the young woman she had been talking with had disappeared.

  “I’m just back from Zurich. Still with the bank. What about you? You were going to be a famous Broadway director.”

  “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “I remember everything about you. Are you doing anything in the theater now?”

  “I’m teaching drama at Mary Bradford’s, and I’ve joined the community theater. We put on two productions a year and I do everything from directing to box office to painting scenery. I sometimes even act when there’s no one else for a part.”

  “You’re at Mary Bradford’s? Did you ever imagine you’d be back at your alma mater?”

  “No, never.”

  “I hope you’ll let me see you sometime. If not for dinner, then maybe a drink?” Arthur put his hand on Bennie’s arm.

  “Oh, Arthur. On top of being busy, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good company right now.”

  “I heard about the problems with your marriage. I’m a good listener, and I can be good company while you sort things out. May I call you?”

  “Of course, but I won’t promise.”

  Alice walked up, smiling at Bennie.

  “Alice, this is Arthur McCall, Meg’s brother. You remember Meg,” Bennie said.

  “Yes, I do. Your roommate when you were in school at Mary Bradford’s. How are you, Arthur? Bennie, I’m afraid we must leave. I’m her ride, Arthur, and the bus is leaving.”

  They said their goodbyes, wrapped their coats around them, and stepped into the cold air. As they stood on the steps, waiting for Alice’s car to be brought around, Bennie put her arm through Alice’s.

  “You’re my hero coming to save me like that. Especially tearing yourself away from the pretty young woman you were talking to. Who is she?”

  “Her name is Sarah, and she’s married to an assistant professor at Bridgeport. They’re brand new in town.”

  “Alice, you’re incorrigible.”

  “What? She’s a golfer. We’re going to play golf.”

  “In the dead of winter?”

  “Well, we’ll undoubtedly play golf sometime.”

  Chapter Two

  TUESDAY NIGHT, BENNIE SAT alone in the darkened theater at Mary Bradford School for Girls, slumped with her feet on the back of the seat in front of her. If Mother Berry, the school’s headmistress, were to see her now, she’d frown on the unladylike pose.

  “Not a good role model for the girls,” Bennie could almost hear her saying.

  Bennie wouldn’t have been able to sit up straight if Mary Bradford herself stepped out of 1845 and walked into the theater. Bennie was bone tired. Two days of dress rehearsals for the annual school Revel were behind her. The run-throughs had been chaos, full of missed cues and costume problems. Since that was the purpose of a dress rehearsal, Bennie hoped the girls had worked out all the mistakes and that everyone’s nerves would settle once the curtain rose on the performance.

  The stage in front of her was lit only by orange exit signs, yet Bennie could make out the details of the set since she had lived with it day and night for weeks. At the back of the stage, raised on a platform, was a long banquet table and ornate chairs, the middle one larger than the rest. Potted shrubs trimmed in shapes of balls, corkscrews, and pyramids lined the sides of the set, and scarlet and gold satin drapes hid the stage lights and softened the edges of the
stage.

  Directing the Revel was a big responsibility, and it was important that Bennie get it right. The production was a highlight of every school year. Since the founding of the school, except for a few years during the Civil War, students wrote the dialogue, costumed the actors, built the sets and performed in an original stage production. The stories were always fantastical mixes of fairy tales, Shakespeare, and whatever movie was popular that year. This year’s extravaganza would have duels, dragons, witches, belly dancers, and diabolical plots. There were over a hundred girls in the cast, a third of the school, and another thirty in the orchestra.

  The double doors at the back of the theater banged open. Bennie turned to see a figure silhouetted against the lights of the lobby.

  “Mrs. Grant, is that you? It’s black as pitch in here,” Miss Dodie, the Latin teacher, said.

  “Right here, Miss Dodie.” Bennie sat up straighter as Miss Dodie hurried down the aisle, feeling her way in the dark, and dropped into the seat next to her.

  “Thank goodness I found you. Mother Berry is looking for you. When you weren’t at dinner, I figured you’d be here.” Miss Dodie looked around the auditorium and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her cleavage. “Want one? I know this is strictly forbidden, but I’m so nervous. Are you?” She offered Bennie a cigarette and when Bennie declined she lit her own. I can’t wait to get this damned, sorry, thing over with. Again, let me thank you for the hundredth time for taking the Revel off my shoulders in the middle of things.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to stay on as assistant director. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

  Miss Dodie took a deep drag from her cigarette and blew out the smoke, fanning the air and looking around again.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be helping you with it, but let’s face it, it’s not my cup of tea. Mother Berry assigned it to me before you came to teach drama because almost no one takes my Latin classes any more. Only three girls have signed up for next term. I’m hanging on to this teaching position by a thread. Sometimes I think I should face the inevitable and get a job as a salesgirl somewhere. Maybe Bloomingdale’s.”