Read The Sea Star Online

Authors: Jean Nash

The Sea Star (20 page)

     
“Oh, hush up, Dallas,” she said, embarrassed. He had every right to think that, but Susanna didn’t like being reminded that in the past she’d been less than kind to Augusta. “Mother’s changed since she’s been married.”

     
“She hasn’t changed,” he contradicted her. “You’re the one who’s different, Sunny. Over the past year you’ve behaved so uncharacteristically that I don’t even know you anymore.”

     
“What are you talking about? I haven’t changed. I’m the same as I always was.”

     
“Are you?”

     
His pointed tone gave her pause. Had she changed? It was possible she had. But so had Dallas, so had Augusta. People changed. That was life. If Dallas thought she had changed, Susanna suspected it was for the better. She was older now, wiser. She wasn’t the naive country bumpkin she’d been a year ago.

 

 

 

Thirteen

     
Atlantic City
’s first Easter Parade had been held on the Boardwalk in 1876, the year of
America
’s centennial. Borrowing from
New York City
’s annual fashion promenade on
Fifth Avenue
, the Hotel Owners Association decided that a similar spectacular might draw an early vacation crowd to
Absecon
Island
.

     
Susanna had been only a year old when the first Parade was held. When she was a little girl,
Augusta
used to tell her how she had dressed her for the occasion in the finest hand-embroidered smock and bonnet, with white lisle stockings on her chubby legs and high-buttoned shoes on her dimpled feet.
Augusta
’s dress had been a lovely confection of white pleated chiffon over grape-colored silk. Her hat was a wide-brimmed affair with grape velvet ribbons, and on Susanna’s pram blanket she placed small clusters of silk grapes and leaves.

     
“We were a Gainsborough portrait,”
Augusta
had told her. “There weren’t many people to admire us, though. Your father and the Association had provided ‘Easter Special’ trains to handle what they thought would be an overflow crowd. Only a hundred or so people actually attended.”

     
But by century’s end,
Atlantic City
’s Easter Parade was as popular as its predecessor in
New York
.
The Atlantic City Review
and the
Daily Union
reported that tens of thousands of vacationers attended the celebration and that many were people whose names were listed in their native cities’ social registers.

     
Now, in 1900, in tribute to the first Parade of the twentieth century, the promenaders outdid themselves.
Paris
gowns in every gem-brilliant color sparkled beneath a diamond-white sun. Roses or violets crowned chic chapeaux, “suggesting an exaggerated flower bed,” as one newspaper noted. Parasols of radiant hues bobbed above those pretty hats like gracefully swaying blossoms in a
Lancashire
garden. It was the most fashionable turnout the city had ever hosted.

     
To her regret, Susanna didn’t attend the Parade that balmy Sunday in April.
Augusta
had gone home at her lonesome husband’s insistence, missing her favorite
Atlantic City
celebration. All the Sea Star’s guests were on the Boardwalk, so Susanna was taking advantage of the free time to start refurbishing her quarters in the south tower. With the hotel looking so spruce, her rooms seemed doubly shabby to her. This was the perfect opportunity to begin a long-delayed project.

     
She was emptying out an old chest of drawers. Wearing a dress that had seen better days and a bandanna to protect her hair, she was a sorry contrast to the elegantly gowned ladies parading on the Boardwalk. Catching sight of her dust-smudged face in the vanity mirror, she laughed and said aloud, “What a fine figure you cut, Miss Tatterdemalion!”

     
“To me,” said someone from the doorway, “you look like a lily of the field. ‘Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’”

     
Susanna spun around at the sound of that beloved voice. Jay stood at the threshold, looking more regal than any monarch. A smile teased the corners of his provocative stern mouth. He leaned against the doorjamb, his posture relaxed, yet in his cool sea-blue eyes there burned a flame of vibrant excitement.

     
“Jay!” she cried, and crossing the room, she flung herself joyously into his arms.

     
He felt so warm, so strong, so wonderful against her. His arms clasped her hard. He rained a shower of ardent kisses on her radiant upturned face. It seemed a century at least since she had touched him and held him. He was everything that made her happy. He was all that she loved.

     
“I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered.

     
She wanted never to let him go. He smelled delicious as always, as if the sun and sea air were the essence of his being. His arms still held her fast. She felt his lips on her brow. Whatever had kept him away for so long, it was love, indisputably, that had brought him back.

     
“Let me look at you.” He held her at arm’s length, smiling down at her with amusement as she tried to hide her face.

     
“No, don’t look,” she protested. “Let me wash up first. I’m covered with grime.”

     
“Very well,” he laughed, “but be quick about it. I know how you women are. ‘Let me wash up’ means ‘Give me an hour or two to transform myself into a fashion plate.’”

     
She wrinkled her nose at him and disappeared into the lavatory, then surprised him by returning several minutes later with a dewy-clean face and her hair smoothed sleekly in place. “Was I too long?” she asked dryly.

     
“Yes!” he said, sweeping her back into his arms and planting a kiss on her sassy mouth. “Now that I have you in my clutches again, I won’t ever let you out of my sight.”

     
The words were spoken jestingly, but Susanna detected in them a serious intent. She couldn’t help saying, “How different you are in person from your letters.”

     
“How so, Miss Tatterdemalion?”

     
His teasing derailed her train of thought. “Don’t joke about how I look,” she warned, “or I
will
spend two hours trying to make myself beautiful.”

     
“Even sackcloth and ashes couldn’t detract from your beauty. If you stepped on the Boardwalk now, wearing that exceedingly tatty dress, every masculine eye would still be riveted on you.”

     
“Jay, be serious,” she demanded, though his high spirits pleased her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

     
“It was a spur-of-the-minute decision.” He settled on the rocker and reached into his coat for his cigarette case. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

     
Susanna regarded him dubiously. Jay was not a man who made spur-of-the-moment decisions.

     
“You know I don’t mind your smoking.” She fetched an empty candy dish for him to use as an ashtray. “Or has our long separation caused you to forget that?”

     
His eyes darted to hers. Susanna saw a fleeting look of regret, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a spark of devilment. “I deserve that,” he admitted. “I’ve been a footloose bachelor for so long that I’ll have to make a special effort to start behaving like a dutiful fiancé.”

     
She frowned at the word “dutiful.” Aloofly, she said, “Pray don’t change your ways on my account.”

     
Jay laughed, put down the cigarette case, and pulled her onto his lap. “I detect a note of coolness in your tone.”

     
“Do you?” The words dripped ice.

     
“No, not a note. It’s more a symphony. I feel chilblains erupting all over my body.”

     
“You deserve them,” she retorted. “Now, let me go, if you please. Don’t expect me to fall willingly into your arms after you’ve practically ignored me for almost four months.”

     
“No, of course not.” Jay suppressed a smile, remembering that she had done exactly that when he entered the room. “How inconsiderate of me.” He allowed her to rise. She selected a straight chair as far away from him as possible. “In all seriousness, Susanna, I’ve been trying to get here since the middle of February, but one problem after another has kept me away.”

     
“What sort of problems?” Curiosity replaced her pique. “Do they have anything to do with Alan Devlin’s death?”

     
“Who told you about that?” he asked sharply.

     
“My mother.” His tone puzzled her. “I suppose Ford told her. Have the police learned anything?”

     
“No.” A brief pause. “Nothing at all.”

     
She wanted to ask more about the crime, but she could see that the thought of it troubled him. Tactfully, she changed the subject. “Your hotels are what kept you away, am I right? I know how that is. Although with Teddy here, I have fewer problems than I used to. What a godsend he is! It’s so stimulating working with a man like him.”

     
“I’ve no doubt of that, Susanna. Your letters made it abundantly clear how highly you regard him.” He leaned back in the rocker and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where’s your ring? Why aren’t you wearing it?”

     
His attitude had changed, but Susanna failed to notice it. “It’s in my jewelry case. I never wear it when I’m working.”

     
“You’re not working now.”

     
“No, but I didn’t put it on this morning because I knew I’d be doing some heavy work up here. I’ve decided to redecorate the tower rooms. They look so shoddy since we’ve done over the hotel. Did you have a chance to look around before you came upstairs? Didn’t Teddy do a splendid job with the renovations?”

     
“Why don’t you wear your ring when you’re working, Susanna?”

     
With her mind still on the hotel’s changes, it took her a moment to answer. “What? Oh, the ring. I might bump it against something and scratch or loosen the stones.”

     
“Yes. I suppose that could happen.”

     
“Jay, speaking of Teddy—”

     
“Were we? I thought we were discussing your betrothal ring.”

     
Now she noticed a difference in his gaze, and a faintly ironic ring in his voice. “Jay, is something wrong?”

     
“Not in the least. What were you going to say about Teddy?”

     
Why was he looking at her like that, like a jungle cat stalking a gazelle? Disconcerted, Susanna said rapidly, “I was wondering why you didn’t tell Teddy about Alan Devlin. When I told him about the embezzlement, he knew nothing about it, and he seemed hurt that you hadn’t confided in him.”

     
“You told him about the embezzlement? I wish you hadn’t.”

     
The words were spoken in an almost casual tone of voice, but a look in his eyes took her aback. “But, Jay,” she said, “don’t you think Teddy has a right to know about it? He told me that he had wanted that managerial position. Surely you knew that?”

     
“No, I didn’t. It appears you know more about Teddy than I do, Susanna.”

     
“Don’t be silly. I hardly know him at all except as a business associate.”

     
“From the way you’re pleading his case,” Jay said, “one might get the impression he was a treasured family member.”

     
For a moment she was silent. Something was definitely bothering him. “Jay, are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

     
“Yes, I’m sure.”

     
His gaze told her nothing, and she knew with a sixth sense that to question him further would be futile. Anxious to restore his good spirits, she said brightly, “Why don’t we go to the Boardwalk and watch the end of the Parade? If you’ll give me a moment to change, I promise I won’t take forever to dress.”

     
“That’s a fine idea.” Jay rose and went to the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. I haven’t seen Teddy yet. Perhaps he can tell me about all the changes he’s made while I was gone.”

     
After he left, Susanna remained in her chair as an incredible suspicion popped into her mind. Was Jay jealous of Teddy? No, of course not. How absurd. Jay was far too sophisticated to be jealous.

 

     
She bathed with the speed of lightning and put on a lemon-yellow dress in the new “Grecian bend” silhouette, with a high-boned lace collar and lace-edged long sleeves. Instead of wearing a hat, she took some daisies from the mantel vase and wove a cunning coronet. When she joined Jay in the lobby, she looked as fresh and as lovely as the flowers in her hair.

     
“Is this the grubby waif I was with only a half hour ago?”

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