Children of Liberty Page 22

  “No,” said Harry to his father. “It’s not real.” And the stallion of joy just up and galloped away, leaving his heart balled up like his fists.

  Herman heaved a disapproving sigh. “That is disappointing.”

  Harry tried to divert the frontline assault by using rules of combat he wasn’t used to. “I don’t know who I am yet,” he said, apathetic now. “I’m still looking. I’m not ready to make a number of difficult decisions that are being thrust upon me.” Forced upon me. “I’m exploring my options.” He shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

  “That’s fine,” Herman said. “But until you make a career decision, you cannot ask for Alice’s hand in marriage.”

  “Really? But okay. Am I asking for it?”

  “Don’t you soon intend to?”

  “I don’t know,” Harry said evenly. “No point in continuing to put me on the spot as sport, though, wouldn’t you agree? It’s hardly going to make me rise to the occasion.”

  Herman sat back. “You don’t think it might shame you into it?”

  “Shamed into marriage? Not very likely.”

  “I meant shamed into a career.”

  Harry tightened his mouth. “Father, you’ve told me my whole life I’ve come into privilege accidentally and with it came freedom that other people didn’t have.”

  “With it also comes responsibility that other people don’t have.”

  “I know. But freedom first?”

  “You’ve had twenty-three years of nothing but.”

  “I’ve had twenty-three years of schooling and studying and reading, and learning and thinking. I haven’t had freedom.”

  “Not enough time?”

  “Not nearly.”

  “Okay, but can we agree on a time limit for vacillation? Say six months?”

  “No,” said Harry. “We can’t agree to it. I will not put arbitrary parameters on the most important decision of my life—my role in it.”

  Herman sat patiently. His brow looked weary. “Alice is not going to wait forever, son.”

  Harry studied his hands. “Okay.”

  “What are you going to do about Ben?”

  “Ben is under a lot of pressure, Father,” Harry said. “His allegiance has shifted, as allegiance sometimes does, and he is realizing, somewhat belatedly, that he cannot serve two masters—the canal builders and the banana growers. Time has come for him to decide. And he doesn’t want to. Andrew Preston has been Ben’s most loyal benefactor. Aside from you. But the choice between two opposing things of equal weight are tough. So he struggles. Some of this you saw at dinner. Please accept my apologies on his behalf.”

  “Nonsense,” said Herman. “That is not what I saw at dinner at all. And you know how I enjoy feisty discussion. We don’t have enough of it. Most of it is so chaste. That’s why I adore it when Ellen comes to visit, she makes our dinners so lively. Clearly her son has inherited some of his mother’s spark. Our tea today was entertainment of the first order. Much like the running of the bulls I keep reading about.” Herman paused. “That’s not what concerns me.”

  In a minute the concerns were going to be unloosed on Harry’s indifferent head.

  “What concerns me,” Herman went on, “is that your sister seems to think that behind Ben’s antagonism and your adventure in Lawrence is something of a rather more personal nature. From the snippet of your conversation with Ben, I fear Esther may be correct.”

  “She is wrong.” Harry sighed. “Don’t mind her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Ben about your business venture in Lawrence?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “But why not him?”

  “For the same reason why not anyone.”

  Herman raised his hand to stop Harry. “I’m not delving into your affairs, son. But I am going to suggest that you delve into your motives and figure out what’s important to you. Do you have ulterior motives, as Esther alludes?”

  Harry opened his mouth to tell Herman of Esther’s ulterior motives and then closed it. He didn’t want Ben’s presence in his father’s house to be anything but what it had always been, easygoing and familiar. Was it too late for that? He refused to believe it. He had already made up his mind by the fire; he was going to set things right. If only his father wouldn’t interfere, as always, and make Harry’s every decision more tortured. “Esther doesn’t want Ben to go to Panama,” he said. “She is worried about him. She would prefer he stay in Boston and work with Preston at United Fruit.”

  “Why?”

  What to say to that? There was once something about tulips Esther had said to Harry. It was a few years ago in the spring and Ben had his wandering eye briefly set on the flower shop owner’s daughter on Main Street. Esther said, sometimes I truly believe that even tulips are agonized.

  Only today did Harry feel what she had meant.

  They sat without speaking.

  “The affairs of the heart are complicated, Harry,” Herman said quietly.

  “I don’t need you to tell me that, Father.”

  “I don’t claim to be an expert. I will not presume to offer either of my grown children advice.”

  “And I for one can’t tell you,” Harry said, “how much I appreciate that.”

  “Please think carefully about your place in your own life.”

  Harry stood up before he was dismissed. “Father, it’s as if you don’t know me. That’s all I do.”

  Herman got up in a measured manner. “Unfortunately I’m beginning to realize I know you too well.”

  Harry bowed before he left. “I hope one day to either surprise you or to fulfill the expectations you have of me.”

  “Son,” said Herman, “I would much rather you shocked the hell out of me.”

  4

  Gina crossed Broadway and was rushing to Antonio’s restaurant by the station when she saw the carriage draw up. This made her so happy that she lifted her dragging skirt and started to run. She hadn’t seen Harry in over three weeks and was nearly at the point of going to his house in Barrington to call on him. Breathless and flushed, she forced herself to slow down as she neared the black covered carriage.

  Billingsworth came around, barely nodding to a smiling Gina, and opened the door. A woman stepped out, wearing sensible shoes as if she were dressing for the country, a smart oversized hat and a tweed suit. Esther took her bag and calmly turned to the restaurant, acknowledging Gina by pursing her already tense mouth. Gina stopped smiling.

  “Hello.” She didn’t know what to say next.

  “Oh, hello,” Esther said coolly, as if uncertain she’d even met Gina before.

  “I’m Gina Attaviano. We met last fall …”

  “Did we? I do apologize, I’m terrible with faces. Are you Salvatore’s sister?” Esther pointed to Antonio’s.

  Gina nodded. She stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Billingsworth scurried by like a mouse, from the carriage to the front door.

  “Hello, Mr. Billingsworth,” she called after him. He barely acknowledged her, deliberately not catching her eye.

  Gina turned to Esther. “We met at Ben’s mother’s Anti—”

  “Of course, of course. How are you? And your friend? Valerie, was it?”

  “Verity.”

  “That’s right. My apologies. I’m also terrible with names. How do you do?” Esther asked an inert Gina. “Have you finished your studies?”

  “Uh, no. I’ve got two more years left.” Why was Esther asking her this?

  “I meant for this year.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you. We are on summer recess.”

  “Very good. If you will excuse me, Mr. Billingsworth and I are here for our monthly meeting with your brother. I hope this is not a bad time. The place looks crowded.”

  “It is,” Gina said. “But he’s not here.”

  “Oh. We thought he was here for lunch? Harry told us Antonio’s at lunchtime, Alessandro’s at dinner.”

  Gina frowned, her heart missing a bea
t. “Harry’s right. But Dotty quit. She was our manager. Until we hire someone new, Salvo is at Alessandro’s all day. It’s on Essex Street, not far from here …”

  “Who’s covering Antonio’s then?”

  “Me.”

  Esther inspected her. “As a manager?”

  “I just make sure other people are doing their jobs. It’s not hard.”

  “But you have to tell people what to do, young lady. Men.”

  “I do that.”

  “Do they listen?”

  “Usually.”

  “I see.” Esther started to write officiously in her large notebook. She looked smart and serious, like a businesswoman. Gina became aware how comical she must look in her threadbare summer frock. Surreptitiously, so Esther wouldn’t see, she pulled out the blue lotus wildflowers from her hair and let them drop to the ground, stepping on the blooms, tamping them into the dusty sidewalk for good measure.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked Esther. “Is Harry all right?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”

  As nonchalantly as she could, Gina shrugged. “Usually he comes with Mr. Billingsworth.”

  “Not anymore. These two restaurants are a Barrington family investment. Harry asked me to take over their management …”

  “Asked you to?”

  “Quite right. After his graduation, he decided to spearhead the renovation of a commercial block on Charter Street in North End. It’s a major and complex undertaking for our father’s company. Harry is staying focused on his biggest priorities.”

  “Yes, Lawrence is quite far,” echoed Gina.

  “Oh,” Esther exclaimed, as if just remembering, “did you get a chance to have a gander at last week’s Boston Register by the way?”

  Gina didn’t even know what that was. “I missed it last week,” she said. “Is there any news?”

  “Indeed. Harry and Alice Porter are engaged to be married. He asked her father for her hand, and she graciously accepted. There was a full-page story about it in the paper. I’m surprised you missed it. The engagement dinner is in July. Would you like us to send Salvo and you an invitation? And Variety too, of course. It’s going to be the engagement event of the summer. Alice is one of the most sought-after young ladies …”

  “I should hope not anymore.”

  Esther laughed.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Gina said, standing straight and tall, her face a blank, her body motionless. “It’s lunch hour, and I must attend to my own priorities.”

  “Business does seem to be very good.” The front door never stopped swinging open and shut.

  “It’s my brother’s pizza. You must try some if you get the chance.”

  “Maybe another time,” said Esther. “Harry said your brother is a hard-working young man. And Billingsworth told me the restaurants are outperforming their projections by 86%. Which means—”

  “They’re making nearly twice what we planned.” Gina smiled. “Goodbye, Esther.” Etiquette be damned. Without waiting for a reply, Gina disappeared inside the noisy maul of Antonio’s.

  5

  She lay on the bed face-down all day Sunday. It was a gorgeous day and both Angela and Verity sat on the bed tugging at her to go boating on the Merrimack. “Come on, don’t be sad, you silly girl.”

  They consoled her that day and the next and the one after that. But all Gina could do was work and lie motionlessly on her bed. “You’re fifteen, for goodness sake!” Angela finally exclaimed. “This is only the beginning. You’ve got a lifetime of boys to look forward to. Why are you so upset? Gina, you’re barely off the boat and out of diapers. He is a graduate from Harvard. His father owns an entire town, and a whole section of another. He is not your man.”

  “Doesn’t own it. Helped build it.”

  “Don’t quibble. Ah, so you are listening.”

  “On his mother’s side, one of his ancestors walked off a boat called The Mayflower, I think. In his heart, he is an immigrant, just like me, searching for a new world.”

  “He is done searching. You have it wrong. He is born and raised and will die in the very world for which you’re searching. But for what it’s worth,” Angela added, “you are much prettier than he is handsome.”

  “That’s not true. Have you seen his eyes? He is lovely.”

  “Only you think so.”

  “Clearly not.” Gina flew up off the bed like an incensed wounded bird, hobbled over to her dresser, grabbed the damn Register, flung it open and pointed at the Announcements page. “Look at her! Alice Porter of Timber blah blah, one of the five largest blah blah in New England, oh, and she is a Radcliffe attendee.”

  “She is wasting her time,” Angela said wisely. “No man wants a smart woman.”

  “Harry does!”

  Verity glanced at the newspaper. “She is so blonde and pretty.”

  Flinging the paper onto the floor, Gina fell back on the bed.

  “You’ll see, Gina, this will be your lucky day.”

  “I will never see that.”

  “Verity is right,” said Angela. “Even if he was remotely interested, Salvo and Mimoo would not let you out with him.”

  “Look how they were with Ben,” said Verity, “and he had a real yen for you.” She said this with slight regret. “That’s the part I don’t understand. If you’re going to go for the unattainable, why not go for the one who is already swooning over you?”

  “Verity,” said Gina. “I may be fifteen, but you know nothing about love.”

  The girls laughed at her. She stood her ground, so to speak, as she lay prostrate. “You think you choose who to love? How easy that would be. It chooses you, Verity. Love comes from the heavens, pierces your heart, and claims it for itself. Don’t you know anything?”

  “Am I the one moping on the bed during a hot summer?”

  “Verity’s got a point,” said Angela. “Gia, what about Tommy who comes to St. Vincent’s every day you’re there to donate his sister’s toys and clothes? She’s got nothing left! His parents are going to have to buy her one new set of everything. He only comes because you’re there. He plays this newfangled thing called baseball, he is athletic and handsome. The other day he saw you walking across O’Leary Bridge and nearly fell off his horse. He offered to carry your wool for you. Am I right, Verity? All the pious girls at St. Mary’s would sacrifice their rosary-kneading fingers to have him fall off his horse for them. Why are you pining over some old guy?”

  Gina shook her head. “He’s not old. He is wise and smart.”

  “He’s not an owl. He’s an old man. And it’s nothing but a crush.”

  Gina shook her head. Angela was wrong. It was extravagant, but it was not short-lived.

  “You don’t even know what you want to do yet.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t know who you are.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t know what you’re going to become.”

  “I do.”

  “Soon you will be a young lady,” said Angela, caressing Gina’s back. “You’ll be a beauty queen, and he’ll be a silly old lumber merchant in a tweed jacket.”

  “That’s not who he is.”

  “Gina’s right, Ange, that’s not who he is,” said Verity. “Have you heard him talk? It’s book this and book that. Idea this and idea that. It’s boring even to me.”

  “It’s not boring,” said Gina. “It’s fascinating.”

  “I never liked him,” said Angela, “for what it’s worth.”

  “It’s not worth much.”

  “Me neither,” said Verity. “I liked Ben more.”

  “You did, did you? You’d better not tell Mother Grace that. She’ll expel you from the nunnery.”

  Verity turned bright red. “I meant for you.”

  “Sure that’s what you meant.”

  “It’s summertime!”

  “I’m aware what time of year it is, Verity.”

  “So stop fretting and come to the Mer
rimack. The boys and girls are having a race. Tommy will let you get in his boat. He’ll row the skull for you.” Angela and Verity giggled.

  Gina turned her back to them, curling up. “You’ve never been inside a boat yourselves. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “For your information, gloomy girl,” Angela said knowingly, poking her in the shoulder blades, “I’ve been on boats every summer, not lying in bed all droopy-eyed after some boy who doesn’t know my name.”

  “Harry knows my name!”

  Angela lowered her voice. “If you don’t come outside and play with me and Verity right now, I’ll tell Salvo what you’re doing.”

  “Go on then. Run along. Tell him I’m lying on the bed.”

  “Pining.”

  “He’ll ignore you.”

  “Will Mimoo?”

  “Doubly so.”

  On Monday Gina was up. She was not dressed for the river or work or schoolgirl summer adventures. She was dressed in church clothes and church shoes. She wore a gray skirt and a prim white blouse buttoned to her chin. Her hair was wound so tightly into a high bun that she looked almost hairless. She worked the lunch shift at Antonio’s, and then, after the crowd dissipated, and when no one was looking, she crossed the street, proudly clutching a little brown purse she had “borrowed” from Angela and caught the 2:45 to Boston.

  It was one paragraph in the Register that had done it. She just couldn’t get it out of her mind. She couldn’t rest until she saw him, one last time. There was no point in being maudlin, she saw that. Obviously the Cupid’s arrow that had passed between them in the dust outside the quarry was pointing one way only; in her own exuberance she had badly misconstrued his intentions. But she thought it was cowardly of him to hide behind Esther, to send her, to delegate the dirty, roll-up-your-sleeves work to a woman, his sister of all people. She wanted to catch him in it. She wanted to confront him face to face.