Secrets of the Red Box (11 page)

He seemed surprised. “Well, no, not really.” He hooked his arm around her waist. “But I don’t
see how they’ll be able to help themselves.”
They walked through the warm evening to the door, and Paul rang the bell. Bonnie could hear
piano music in the background as the door opened. Muted conversation and laughter rolled toward
her as they went inside and the butler closed the door behind them. The butler motioned them
toward the spacious living room. Paul took Bonnie’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “There are Jack and
Gloria,” he murmured. “Might as well get it over with.”
“She’s the one no one likes?” Bonnie whispered.
The walls in the room had been painted lavender, with emerald green carpet, and at the windows
chintz draperies combined verdant green leaves and cascading lavender roses, topped by a scalloped
valance. Plush chairs, sofas, and tables were grouped in various areas throughout the room.
Paintings of hunting scenes with red-coated riders on horseback hung on the walls. On the mantle
of the fireplace sat a pair of Staffordshire dogs, silent and observant of the party going on in front of
them. In the corner was a grand piano, the lid raised as the pianist played, the music hovering over
the groupings of guests who stood or sat in little clusters. Bonnie soaked in the scene, liking the feel
of the room, the mixtures of perfumes and colognes, the sound of laughter and music.
Paul nodded. A smile crossed his lips as he stopped in front of the couple. “Frank, Gloria, please
allow me to introduce Bonnie Cooper.”
Bonnie’s eyes glided along Gloria’s stunning gown of shimmering turquoise. It complemented
her auburn hair and whiskey-brown eyes. She was in her forties or early fifties, Bonnie guessed, and
Jack was about the same. Gloria’s face was taut, with a high forehead and arching brows. The
expression on her face looked as if she smelled something odorous in the air, her nostrils slightly
extended, her head tilted back.
“So, I finally get to meet your latest interest,” Gloria said to Paul, her right arm cocked at the
elbow as she floated a cocktail in her hand. “She’s better looking than the last one, Paulie.”
Jack reached for Bonnie’s hand. She felt his limp fingers in her palm. “Miss Cooper, don’t listen
to a thing my wife says,” he interjected. “Not everyone appreciates her sense of humor.”
“Sense of humor?” Gloria retorted. “Why, I’m merely stating a fact.”
Paul winced slightly and slid his eyes toward Bonnie. “Bonnie’s originally from New York City,”
he said as if to change the subject. “She’s only recently moved here.”
“Really? How wonderful,” Jack replied.
Bonnie leaned toward Paul. “Would you get me a Manhattan, please, with an extra cherry?”
Paul gave her a skeptical look, as if hesitant to leave her alone with the couple. “Certainly,” he
said and disappeared.
Gloria sipped on her cocktail. “New York? Why on earth would you come to dreary Omaha? I’d
trade Omaha for New York any day.”
Bonnie smiled and considered the couple. “I left for personal reasons,” she said with a flat tone,
as if to indicate she wasn’t open for questions.
“Ah,” Jack said with a knowing nod.
“Personal or not,” Gloria said, swirling her drink in its glass, “I would have chosen a city with a
bit more cosmopolitan feel than Omaha. Chicago, for instance, or, heaven forbid, even Los
Angeles.”
Bonnie gave Gloria a disarming smile. “Well, my parents were originally from here, so it seemed
like a good place to start over.”
“And why would a young thing like you need to start over? Why, you’ve barely begun to live—”
Jack cleared his throat. “Gloria, don’t pry,” he said somewhat under his breath. “Let the girl be.”
Gloria shrugged one shoulder and sipped her drink. “I’m just interested in who Paulie’s
interested in.”
Paul arrived with two Manhattans, one with an extra maraschino cherry. “Here’s to the end of
the war in Europe,” he said, handing the drink to Bonnie. “And may victory be won in the Pacific
very soon.”
Bonnie tapped her glass to his and smiled. “Here, here.” She smiled and sipped the cocktail. She
turned her eyes back to Gloria. “I was married,” she continued. “My husband was killed in the war. I
wanted to leave New York—start over.”
Jack looked down at his shined shoes. “Now see?” he said, casting his gaze to his wife. “You’ve
made her bring up unpleasant memories.”
“No, it’s all right,” Bonnie said to put Jack at ease. “I’m learning to live with it. Paul has been a
darling about it, really. Very patient,” she said, placing her hand on his arm.
Paul blushed and took a sip of his drink. Gloria ran the tip of her tongue over her coral-colored
lips. “How very gallant of you, Paul,” she cooed. “So unlike your other ventures, shall we say?”
Jack stepped in between Bonnie and his wife. He took Bonnie’s arm. “Allow me to introduce
you to some of the others,” he said. Jack turned back to Paul as he maneuvered her away. “You
don’t mind, do you Paul?”
Paul was left standing beside Gloria, his mouth agape, his eyes wide as the two of them mixed
with the crowd. Bonnie looked at Jack, his salt-and-pepper hair thinning, but still adequate to cover
his head. His eyes were a bit puffy, but she suspected they missed nothing beneath their heavy lids.
“I must apologize for my wife,” he said quietly as he guided her across the room. “She speaks
without thinking. Whatever’s on her mind just pops out.”
Bonnie offered a brief laugh. “I find it refreshing,” she said. “I like directness.”
“Well,” Jack said with a smile, “then you’d be one of the few.”
Jack paused at a small cluster of guests and introduced Bonnie. They welcomed her, curious
about the new girl in Paul’s life. She couldn’t help but feel as though she was on display, as if she
was being judged by these strangers.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” said a woman with a pile of brunette curls hoisted high on her
head. “Paul has spoken of you.”
Bonnie tried to hide her surprise by bringing the Manhattan to her lips for a sip. “Has he?” she
asked. “I hope he’s been generous.”
“Not nearly enough,” the woman replied. “He said you were pretty, but I believe he understated
the fact. You’re quite beautiful, Miss Cooper.”
Bonnie felt a blush creep up her neck. She wasn’t used to such comments. “Well, thank you.”
“And,” the woman continued, “he mentioned that you’re a singer.”
“Are you really?” Jack asked in amazement. “What sort of singer? Operatic or chanteuse?”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what a chanteuse was. She smiled and tried to settle the rolling in her
stomach. “I sang with an orchestra back in New York.”
The woman swung her arm toward the piano. “You must sing for us, Miss Cooper,” she said
with an eager smile. “This party could use some good entertainment.”
Bonnie held up her hand in protest. “Oh, no,” she said, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m
out of practice.”
“You must,” Jack insisted. “Please, sing for us.”
Bonnie felt her skin prickle and break into a fine sweat. She’d never sung publicly in her life.
“It’s too presumptuous…I’d feel out of place…”
“Nonsense,” the woman said. “What better way for everyone to get to know you?” “It’s not
every day we have a professional singer in our midst,” Jack said. “Come on, they’ll love you.”
Bonnie began to object again, but Jack took hold of her elbow and made his way to the piano.
She felt her knees turn to rubber as she scanned the crowd for Paul. If only she could spot him, she
might be able to get out of this.
“Get everyone’s attention,” Jack said to the piano player.
The man nodded, ran an ascending arpeggio, then struck a two-handed chord sharply several
times. The party began to quiet and turned its attention to Jack as he stood beside the piano. “Ladies
and gentlemen,” he began with great aplomb, “some of you have already met this lovely woman, and
for those of you who have yet to do so, may I present Bonnie Cooper. Bonnie sang professionally in
New York and has graciously agreed to sing for us.”
Bonnie felt an odd mix of emotions entangle her insides; part embarrassment, part exhilaration,
part satisfaction as every eye turned to her and a clatter of applause sounded in her ears. Her selfconsciousness evaporated as the crowd continued to applaud. She saw Paul moving through the
gathering, coming closer to her. She no longer wanted to be rescued, the attention bringing her a
welcome sense of acceptance.
“What would you like to sing, Miss Cooper?” the pianist asked.
Bonnie’s mind began to race. These people expected a singer, a good singer, one who’d sung in a
band. She could carry a tune, despite her father’s comments that she sounded like a cat being run
through a wringer. Her confidence began to waver. Then she pictured Alice Faye singing “You’ll
Never Know” in the movie
Hello, Frisco, Hello
. Sing like Alice Faye, she told herself, just like in the
movie. “Can you play ‘You’ll Never Know’?”
The pianist nodded. “Sure, what key?”
Again Bonnie’s heart plummeted. “Uh, whatever key you were just playing,” she said somewhat
under her breath.
The man shrugged and began playing an introduction. Bonnie stared out at the audience of
interested strangers. She felt a surge of adrenalin pump through her, heightening her senses,
sharpening her awareness. The notes found their way from her throat, her voice a little soft at first,
as if testing her ability.
You’ll never know just how much I miss you…
You’ll never know just how much I care…
As she observed the pleasant expressions on the faces in front of her, Bonnie’s confidence grew,
and she sang with greater self-assurance. Her voice was pleasant, muted with a slight tenderness that
surprised even her. She caught sight of Paul, who stood transfixed as she sang, his eyes filled with a
sentiment she couldn’t quite make out.
You went away and my heart went with you…
I speak your name in my every prayer…
If there is some other way to prove that I love you,
I swear I don’t know how–
You’ll never know if you don’t know now.

Before the last note sounded from the piano, applause erupted and Bonnie felt her cheeks blush
hot with triumph. She saw Paul pushing his way toward her, his smile beaming with pride. He
caught her in his arms and kissed her. “That was beautiful,” he said against her ear. “I had no idea
you were that good.”

Bonnie peered at the people gathering around her, congratulating her, complimenting her. She’d
never received such adulation in her life. It felt foreign to her, but somehow welcome and satisfying;
as though this was something she had been doing her entire life.

Bonnie held up her hands and shook her head. She turned to face Paul. “This is your friend’s
party,” she said. “I don’t—”
“Do you know ‘I’ll Get By’?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers. Bonnie nodded. “Sing it for me,
just as if we were in this room alone.”
Bonnie felt a little uncomfortable with the request. She knew the song, knew the lyrics, but she
felt none of the sentiment the song would convey—none for Paul, at any rate. He kissed her on the
cheek as if to seal his request. “All right,” she conceded. She spoke to the pianist once more and he
began the introduction.
I’ll get by, as long as I have you…
As Bonnie sang, she tried not to look at Paul, wouldn’t pretend they were the only two in the
room. Paul was a nice man, but she was only looking for some company, some excitement, nothing
permanent, nothing serious. She knew she was using him for her own purposes, but it didn’t matter
so long as he didn’t figure it out before she was ready to move on.
Ah, but tears may come to me
That’s true but what care I,
Say I’ll get by, as long as I have you…
Bonnie stood beside the piano, applause ringing in her ears. Her heart raced, pumping a sense of
euphoric acceptance through her body. She suddenly felt like someone of importance, someone of
worth. This was unknown territory for her, something she never dreamed possible. Unless, she
thought, these people were just being kind to her for Paul’s sake. That was a very real possibility.
Paul was suddenly there, his arms wrapped around her. Bonnie felt his heart beating against hers,
heard his praises in her ear. She pulled back from him, afraid of the feelings this moment might
elicit. “I’m glad you liked it,” she managed to say.
Paul took her by the hand and led her away from the piano, to some protests, Bonnie noted.
“Now, now,” he said to the dissenters, “she’s a guest too. Let her enjoy the party.”
A pack of men gathered around Bonnie like hounds scenting a fox, drooling for a chance to gain
her attention. When she sat on one of the plush sofas upholstered in the same cheery chintz as the
curtains, the hounds descended. Paul took a seat on the arm of the sofa, leaning toward Bonnie as if
to demonstrate his possession of her.
“I could listen to you all night,” one of the men said to her.
“If you ever get tired of Paul,” another said, “look me up.”
Paul came to his feet and reached for Bonnie’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go out on the
patio for some air.”
Bonnie smiled at the men and gave them a little shrug as she followed Paul to the open French
doors. Outside, the air was humid, and the sound of cicadas thrummed against the night sky. Paul
stopped on the edge of the flagstone patio and faced Bonnie. She pursed her lips, the light from the
party casting a golden glow on her face through the windows. “I detect a little jealousy,” she said
with a sly smile.
Paul shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his face for a moment. “Maybe…a little…”
Bonnie laughed. She might have assuaged his conscience, but she didn’t. She liked the added
attention she’d received, liked that other people found her attractive, interesting. “Better watch
yourself, Paul,” she said. “You’ve got competition.”
Paul suddenly looked crushed. “Don’t even joke about something like that, Bonnie,” he said.
“I’ve never felt…I mean, this is different for me…”
The look on his face sent her a twinge of regret. “Oh, never mind,” she said, extending her
hand. “Dance with me?”
The hard edges of Paul’s face softened and he took her hand. He pulled her to him, held her
tight against his chest as they danced to the piano music gently flowing to the patio. The scent of
roses from the nearby gardens mingled with Bonnie’s Arpege perfume, creating an intoxicating
aroma that surrounded them. They danced and Paul sighed against her hair, but she felt nothing as
they swayed to the music.