Read Online A Cup of Tea: A Novel of 1917 by Amy Ephron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amy Ephron
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Historical fiction, General, Romance, Historical, New York (N.Y.), Triangles (Interpersonal relations), Upper Class Women
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still,” she told him. “I’m not going to be able to do it with you hopping around like that.”
He looked at the picture of his late wife, Elizabeth, in the silver frame on the dressing room table. “I wish Elizabeth were here today, Gertrude,” he said. “I need someone to hold my hand tonight. This is not one of those things I imagined doing alone.” He looked at his perfectly tied tie in the mirror. “Thanks, Gertrude,” he said and stared again at the picture of his wife. “But I think we’ve done well with her, Lizzie. I hope he does as well.”
When Jane showed up an hour later, Rosemary’s bedroom was a mess, a pre-wedding mess. The bed was unmade. There were petticoats scattered about the floor, all very frilly and girlish, and Jane felt as if she were in street clothes in the navy blue serge suit she’d picked for the wedding. Jane had declined being one of the bridesmaids. No, she would not wear a dress and attempt to catch a bouquet for an event that would never occur…Rosemary didn’t press her on it but there were a great many things in Jane’s life they never spoke about. Mostly, they spoke about Rosemary. Andthat morning, the morning of her wedding, was no exception.
There was a breakfast tray on the vanity that appeared largely untouched. Jane helped herself to a strawberry and called out to Rose who appeared from inside the closet. She was half in her wedding gown but it wasn’t fastened. Her hair was up. She looked almost pretty.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said sounding relieved. “I thought you were Gertrude. For twenty-seven years, every time I’m hungry, I’ve had to beg her to make me something. This morning, the one time I’m not hungry, she showed up with a four-course breakfast. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something.”
“You have,” said Jane. “Something borrowed. Mother sent it over.” She smiled and held a black velvet jewelry box out to Rosemary.
“It’s beautiful,” said Rosemary as Jane fastened the emerald bracelet on her wrist.
“It’s borrowed.”
“I know that,” said Rosemary and then added wistfully, “I wish your mother was coming.”
“So do I. She hasn’t been out for months. She hasn’t felt well enough to go out.”
“She’s the only one of us, though,” said Rosemary, “who never loses her mind. Philip’s so nervous I thinkhe’s going to jump out of his skin. Not something I respect or admire. My father’s turned into a child. And I know I can do this but I feel as if I’m giving myself a wedding. Tell me not to do this today.”
Jane smiled at her. “Don’t do this, today, Rose,” she said. “Just be a good girl and turn around and let me fasten your dress. See how tiny your waist is. Mother says a girl’s waist is supposed to be tiny before she marries. Now, look at my waist. See, I barely have one. Not that it would be my preference to marry a man.” And in that moment, she acknowledged what they never spoke about. She missed a hook on Rosemary’s dress. “There, hold your breath in.” There was a hint of envy in her voice when she said, “You look almost like a picture.”
T o the outside eye, the wedding was a complete success. The day lilies practically spilled off the altar into the church. The organ played Brahms’ 4th and then the Wedding March. Rosemary, protected by her veil and her exquisite bone structure, looked every bit the society bride. Her father wiped his eyes as he walked her down the aisle. The bouquet was caught by one of the Forrest girls, Nan, who went home with a piece of cake to put beneath her pillow so she might dream about who the lucky man might be.
That Teddy would tell Sarah later that Philip was a near wreck before the wedding (which he maskedwith charm and wit) was not surprising. But, once he’d stepped into the church, there was no evidence to anyone in the congregation of his nerves. Rosemary, distraught that their honeymoon was reduced to one night at the Plaza, was
He looked at the picture of his late wife, Elizabeth, in the silver frame on the dressing room table. “I wish Elizabeth were here today, Gertrude,” he said. “I need someone to hold my hand tonight. This is not one of those things I imagined doing alone.” He looked at his perfectly tied tie in the mirror. “Thanks, Gertrude,” he said and stared again at the picture of his wife. “But I think we’ve done well with her, Lizzie. I hope he does as well.”
When Jane showed up an hour later, Rosemary’s bedroom was a mess, a pre-wedding mess. The bed was unmade. There were petticoats scattered about the floor, all very frilly and girlish, and Jane felt as if she were in street clothes in the navy blue serge suit she’d picked for the wedding. Jane had declined being one of the bridesmaids. No, she would not wear a dress and attempt to catch a bouquet for an event that would never occur…Rosemary didn’t press her on it but there were a great many things in Jane’s life they never spoke about. Mostly, they spoke about Rosemary. Andthat morning, the morning of her wedding, was no exception.
There was a breakfast tray on the vanity that appeared largely untouched. Jane helped herself to a strawberry and called out to Rose who appeared from inside the closet. She was half in her wedding gown but it wasn’t fastened. Her hair was up. She looked almost pretty.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said sounding relieved. “I thought you were Gertrude. For twenty-seven years, every time I’m hungry, I’ve had to beg her to make me something. This morning, the one time I’m not hungry, she showed up with a four-course breakfast. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something.”
“You have,” said Jane. “Something borrowed. Mother sent it over.” She smiled and held a black velvet jewelry box out to Rosemary.
“It’s beautiful,” said Rosemary as Jane fastened the emerald bracelet on her wrist.
“It’s borrowed.”
“I know that,” said Rosemary and then added wistfully, “I wish your mother was coming.”
“So do I. She hasn’t been out for months. She hasn’t felt well enough to go out.”
“She’s the only one of us, though,” said Rosemary, “who never loses her mind. Philip’s so nervous I thinkhe’s going to jump out of his skin. Not something I respect or admire. My father’s turned into a child. And I know I can do this but I feel as if I’m giving myself a wedding. Tell me not to do this today.”
Jane smiled at her. “Don’t do this, today, Rose,” she said. “Just be a good girl and turn around and let me fasten your dress. See how tiny your waist is. Mother says a girl’s waist is supposed to be tiny before she marries. Now, look at my waist. See, I barely have one. Not that it would be my preference to marry a man.” And in that moment, she acknowledged what they never spoke about. She missed a hook on Rosemary’s dress. “There, hold your breath in.” There was a hint of envy in her voice when she said, “You look almost like a picture.”
T o the outside eye, the wedding was a complete success. The day lilies practically spilled off the altar into the church. The organ played Brahms’ 4th and then the Wedding March. Rosemary, protected by her veil and her exquisite bone structure, looked every bit the society bride. Her father wiped his eyes as he walked her down the aisle. The bouquet was caught by one of the Forrest girls, Nan, who went home with a piece of cake to put beneath her pillow so she might dream about who the lucky man might be.
That Teddy would tell Sarah later that Philip was a near wreck before the wedding (which he maskedwith charm and wit) was not surprising. But, once he’d stepped into the church, there was no evidence to anyone in the congregation of his nerves. Rosemary, distraught that their honeymoon was reduced to one night at the Plaza, was
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