Chapter One
“Thank you, John.” Elsie Atherton took her seat at the small table on the balcony overlooking her husband’s property. It was one of her favorite places on his ostentatious estate.
“My pleasure, madam. I’ll be certain Mr. Blake knows you’re here when he arrives.”
As John walked away, Elsie recalled her initial terror at sight of the stern butler. Although she’d eventually adjusted to being a grand lady, it had never been her goal. Unwittingly, she married a prosperous and infuriating man.
Elsie took a deep breath and looked toward the garden on the beautiful winter day. The sky was a stunning cobalt blue. She’d learned in Miss Orton’s physics class that January skies were the most intensely hued due to the angle of sunlight. The camellias were blooming ferociously. And Blake had been on his best behavior for several weeks. It wouldn’t last. Elsie’s trust in her husband had dwindled. Only time might serve to restore it.
She recently considered giving up on Mr. Atherton. In her heart, Elsie knew they were destined to be together and could not imagine life without him, no matter what preposterous thing he did next; no matter if his reckless behavior might shorten their time together.
At that moment, the subject of her concern came bounding onto the balcony. Blake politely kissed Elsie’s cheek and took a seat across from her.
“What a lovely idea, my darling. I’ve been longing for a cup of your Prince of Wales tea.”
“I’m certain you were.”
Placing a lace-trimmed linen napkin in his lap, Blake attempted to calculate his wife’s mood. He couldn’t tell if her comment was sincere or facetious. But she was his perfect Elsie, the object of all his desire.
Elsie watched her husband reach for the diminutive, personal creamer perched beside his teacup. Blake’s hands were not those of some pampered tycoon but of a working man. He appeared incapable of managing the fragile porcelain pitcher but efficiently pinched the tiny handle between his thumb and index finger and curled his hand around the bottom. After pouring a dash of cream in his cup, he poured the rest in Elsie’s then met her stare with a smile.
“We can ring for more cream,” he asserted.
“I think that will do for now.” Elsie served two exquisite sweets on each plate, then settled in her chair to study her spouse.
If anything, Blake had grown more handsome in their three-and-a-half years of marriage. He appeared the epitome of masculinity—striking facial features, muscular, tall and broad shouldered. Rich and handsome. Every girl’s dream. Although Blake would turn 30 this year, his light-brown hair showed nary a trace of gray. But gray hair would probably only make him appear distinguished. And those eyes. Elsie was always as fascinated with Blake’s green eyes as he had been with hers of topaz blue.
As if he could read her mind and understand the essence of her thoughts, Blake replied, “You are an incredible beauty, Mrs. Atherton. My innocent, fetching bride has matured into a truly lovely woman.”
Elsie rolled her eyes and patted her dark brown hair. She never considered herself attractive or understood why Blake wanted her in the first place. Destitute with overwhelming family commitments, the only things Elsie could offer were intelligence and style. Blake always thought her clever. That had been enough for him.
He blundered his way through their relationship. They often lived apart, mostly at her behest. Yet when they touched, it seemed almost magical. The world beyond their bedroom served to divide them. That could never go away.
“Is Lulie napping?”
“No. I left her at Mother’s when I went to the Friday Morning Club.”
“I think we could use a bit of honesty,” Blake asserted, then took a sip of tea. “I sense a certain reserve on your part since my return from Colombia. Have I somehow failed to meet expectations? I believe I’ve resolved all your misgivings about my business dealings. It can’t be any failure to meet my obligations as a provider. How have I been remiss?”
“I do need to talk. It’s why I wanted to have tea alone with you this afternoon.”
“You must know, I’ll do anything possible to ease your concerns. What can I do?”
“I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t want you to fix my life.”
“How does it need fixing?”
Elsie reached across the table, putting her hand on Blake’s, and caught her breath. This man was her husband. Knowing he loved her as much as any man could love a woman, how could she explain? “I know your money doesn’t matter to you; it’s just a game, your amusement. When an average person thinks about wealth, they consider how fun it would be if they could do exactly as they pleased, buy whatever they wanted, live in a grand manner, forget about bills and debt. As you know, I never planned or wished to be rich.”
“But you’ve certainly come to enjoy it.”
Elsie shook her head. “At first, I pretended I could be the wife I envisioned to the normal husband of my dreams. Then you could go broke at any minute and my imaginary life would become reality.”
“That is always a possibility. It’s one of the dearest things about you. Even if I turned out to be a complete failure, it wouldn’t matter to you in the least.”
“I used to worry what a modest life would mean to you. And then, the Long Beach house is in my name, after all. You can’t gamble our home away on some business whimsy.”
Blake chuckled. “You are my practical Elsie.”
“Lately, I’ve attempted to embrace the life your parents intended you to have.”
“And you’ve done a masterful job. It’s always been work I enjoyed, though, not an affluent lifestyle.”
“But your money comes with responsibilities. While you’re doing what you love, I’m entangled in social obligations I never desired. Strangers call for money. Invitations fill our calendar. Correspondence from benevolent associations overflows the mailbox. I can’t understand some ladies at my club. Their flattery seems insincere. I can’t tell if they’re pandering to my wishes to gain some advantage or if my ideas are adopted for their value.”
“You’re the one who joined the Friday Morning Club. As for my life, I’ve found it’s best to stick with tried-and-true friends who won’t hesitate to tell me when I’m wrong. Like Joah. And you. Bootlickers want something. It takes time, but you’ll figure it out. You’re the one who writes those ambitious checks to charities. Did you believe word wouldn’t spread? Did you think others wouldn’t come knocking at your door?”
“I guess I didn’t think that far. I wanted to do good and fulfill my duties as the wife you deserve. Isn’t that the reason you set up the trusts for your siblings and mine? Isn’t it why you support my mother? Don’t you feel obligated to fulfill your duties as a family man?”
“You have done good, Elsie. A man has financial obligations to meet. I felt a responsibility to help your family and provide assistance to mine. Besides, when some family member calls for money, I simply tell them to contact the trust manager and assert it’s out of my hands. They stop asking. I’m content to let Joah and Natalie fulfill social obligations for our business once their baby is a bit older.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re as opposed to wealth as when we wed. I thought you enjoyed your dresses and our home. I assumed you took pleasure in the recent holiday festivities you so expertly arranged. What are we to do about your dilemma? Should you give away all we have and I’ll take up gardening? What do you want?”
“You would never be content gardening.”
“I certainly enjoy keeping my bees.”
“If you ever truly went broke, you’d simply find a way to create some new business. I understand the gamble of free enterprise is what intrigues you and that failure equates with learning.”
“It seems I’m not as understanding of your wishes as you are of mine. Again, Elsie, what do you want?”
“I want to be a wife and mother. I want to exercise my intellect. I want life to be simpler.” Tears filled her eyes. “Foolishly, I failed to understand my social obligations as your wife all these years, but I want the life we had when we lived in Mother’s bungalow.”
“Living there nearly drove me crazy.”
“I want another baby.”
Blake nodded thoughtfully. “Come over here.” He took her hand to pull her around the table and settled Elsie on his lap. After an impassioned kiss, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Let’s consider solutions. What happened to the secretary you hired to help with the New Year’s ball?”
“Her job ended.”
“You liked her though? You got along well? Perhaps more importantly, she got along with John?”
“Yes.”
“Perchance she would like a permanent job? She could take phone calls and handle correspondence. You could develop a strategy for incoming mail. She could schedule and arrange business dinners. We can decide our availability and block out dates on a calendar. We’ll make a list of business contacts. Constance will continue to monitor the Long Beach house phone calls. I’ll take care of the mail at home. Then you will be free to do things you enjoy.”
Elsie raised her head to stare suspiciously into her husband’s eyes. There was a possibility he would simply throw all the mail in the trash bin.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to hand over anything that might interest you.”
“Like invitations to events at the Huntington Hotel?”
“Definitely those. But I don’t know why the hotel matters to you. Our ballroom is every bit as grand as the one at the Huntington. I promise we’ll avoid staying in the city as much as possible.”
“What about your work here, your properties?”
“I rarely have business in the city at this juncture. I only came to Los Angeles yesterday because you had your meeting and I could make a few phone calls. We can stay in Long Beach more. And about that baby.” Blake kissed her neck.
“Lulie will be two in June. I don’t seem able—”
“I don’t want you to worry. I understand I’ve caused concern. Let’s enjoy this life we’ve made. In fact, I think we could be entirely irresponsible this afternoon since Mom has Lulie. Let’s go to bed.”
“Shhhh. John might hear.”
“Do you imagine he doesn’t understand the mechanics of marital relations?”
Elsie blushed.
“There’s my darling bride.” Blake stood Elsie on her feet and rose from his chair. “You’re wearing a beautiful dress today. It brings out the color of your eyes. We should see what’s underneath.”
* * *
Eloise Carroll was amazed at the transformation of her eldest daughter. How could the girl change so drastically in a single day? Knowing Elsie considered divorce as recently as Christmas, Eloise felt incredibly relieved.
When Elsie dropped the baby off in the morning, she appeared the wealthy matron, burdened by responsibilities, overwhelmed by daily living, unhappy in her marriage.
Eloise learned life could be harsh for widowed mothers. As eldest child, Elsie always took family responsibilities seriously. Even if the girl managed to earn enough to support herself after her father’s death, Eloise knew she would never have been able to support a mother and four younger sisters. Like some moving picture hero, Blake Atherton arrived on the scene at exactly the right moment. He’d happily taken on the Carroll family: buying his mother-in-law a house; sending his sisters-in-law to Miss Orton’s Classical School for Girls where Elsie attended; settling all outstanding debts. Even though Eloise and Blake managed to form a true bond, her house was in his name. She depended on his monthly stipend. He continued to pay her bills. Where would she be if Elsie spurned her generous husband?
Eloise finished icing her chocolate roll and glanced through the kitchen door into the dining room. Blake’s arm rested on his wife’s shoulders as both parents observed their daughter’s antics. Tied with a yellow satin ribbon, Elsie’s hair fell down her back. She wore a simple blouse and gray skirt and looked more like the girl who came home from school on weekends than the matron of this morning. Whatever Blake did today seemed the perfect antidote to Elsie’s concerns. Perhaps all recent difficulties had somehow been overcome. As Eloise dished up dessert, Elsie entered the kitchen.
“Can I help?”
“Why don’t you take Lulie and Blake’s cake? I’ll bring the other two plates.” Eloise reached over to touch her daughter’s arm. “Things are better between you two?”
Elsie’s smile disappeared. “I’m trying. I’m the one who married a captain of industry. My vows were seriously taken. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him again.”
“There are worse things than a husband who’s too devoted to work.”
“You’re right. There are.”
“Do you still think he’s planning another trip?”
“He claims not. He says battleships have bound him to Long Beach like nothing that’s come before. More than I can.”
“He loves you with all his heart.”
“I know. But it’s hard to live amidst so much uncertainty. The Bible says each day has its own tribulations; no need to go looking into an unknown future for more that might not even exist. Every time I think Blake has done the most outrageous thing possible, he finds something new. He doesn’t understand why I get upset. I’m determined to enjoy each day for what it is. Blake provided some ideas to simplify matters.” Her distress apparent, Elsie concluded, “I’ll never stop loving him. Aside from the times he’s attempting to placate me, he’s always lived life on his terms. Where does that leave me?”
“Lulie wants her cake,” Blake yelled.
“Kek!” yelled Lulie.
Plastering a smile on her face, Elsie turned toward the dining room. The ladies served dessert and took their seats.
“Elsie, dearest, are you planning on attending the Friday Morning Club meeting in two weeks? I know you don’t go to all of them,” Eloise settled a cup of coffee in front of her son-in-law.
“Very likely I will. If she’s available, I’m going to hire Miss Penston, the nice lady who helped prepare for the Christmas and New Year’s festivities. I’ll need to spend time with her so she understands what I want. In fact, I’ll have to formulate lists of activities, names and procedures.”
“But once she gets going, she should be a big help,” Blake asserted. “And I’m certain if you offer her enough money, she’ll be eager to jump ship and work for us.”
Eloise continued, “I’m only asking because I want to plan a family dinner. I told you Carrie has been seeing that nice boy, Zack. She wants to introduce him to the two of you. I think things are getting serious. Carrie will finish at Miss Orton’s in June. I can’t help but wonder if he intends to ask for her hand. He might want to ask you, Blake.”
“Me?”
“He would probably feel more comfortable speaking to another man.”
“How old is this Zack?”
“Twenty.”
“He’s little more than a boy.”
“Now, Blake,” Elsie scolded. “Think back to when you were 20. I’m certain you didn’t consider yourself a boy.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
Elsie shot him a look. “Is this a Sunday supper?”
“If you’ll stay in town for the whole weekend, I thought Sunday would be best.”
“I’ll put it on our calendar. We’ll plan to stay.”
Eloise appeared deep in thought as she took a bite of cake. “I should ask Dora. I doubt she’ll come.” The comment put a damper on their conversation.
“Have you seen her lately?” Elsie asked.
“She came by over the holidays.”
Blake pressed his lips tightly together. His ideas about Dora would not be welcome and he had the good sense to avoid confrontation.
Elsie bravely asked, “How is she?”
“The same. She dresses in black, is incredibly thin and unhappy.” Eloise heaved a heavy sigh. “I guess she’ll never get over losing Etta. She has nothing else in her life. I believe you could say she’s addicted to clairvoyant automatic writing. Mrs. Louden surely has her bewitched.
“Some days when I rattle around here by myself, I can’t help but wonder if I did something wrong. Why has Dora done these things? Why does she stay away? Am I such a terrible mother?” Eloise looked around the table as a tear escaped.
Blake stared at his empty dessert plate and put his hand over his mouth. Elsie finished wiping Lulie’s face and set her on the floor. The child immediately toddled over to her grandmother and raised her chubby arms.
Once Eloise picked her up, Lulie placed her hands on her only grandparent’s cheeks and seriously stated, “Don’t cwy, Gwammie, don’t cwy.” This only caused more tears.
“Oh, you are my precious girl!” Eloise gave Lulie a hug then stared at Blake. “What would you do if Lulie acted like Dora—getting herself in trouble, deserting her family, wasting her life?”
Blake’s eyes about bulged out of his head. “Luella will not be acting like that, ever.”
Sincerely seeking advice, Eloise asked, “How could you stop it? What would you do?”
Clearly, her husband was about to go on an unhelpful rant so Elsie intervened. “I think we need to accept the fact Dora is an adult. We can’t control her. She won’t listen to advice. All we can do is pray and hope things improve over time. Were I you, I would be as friendly and welcoming as possible and ask her to come to family supper to meet Zack. She’ll undoubtedly say no. Take it in stride. I’d tell you to give her my regards but she made it clear she wants nothing to do with me.”
Elsie thought it best to change the subject. Ideas for planning a family wedding seemed an ideal topic. Elsie and Blake married impetuously with nary a friend or relative in sight. It appeared likely Dora might never marry. Carrie would make a lovely bride. “Blake will pay,” gave Mr. Atherton a different issue to fume about even though he could well afford a splendid wedding and reception.
“Shouldn’t the two of you consult the bride about her wishes? Maybe she’d like a modest wedding,” Blake suggested. He was quickly ignored.
“And you, Miss Lulie, will make a wonderful flower girl,” Eloise promised.
“Me a flowew giwl,” Lulie proclaimed as she slid to the floor and ran off to retrieve her stuffed monkey, Poncho, from the parlor.
* * *
“How many tickets have you racked up since you bought your Rolls?” Elsie asked as Blake sped through the streets of Los Angeles.
“Hmmm, let me think. I can’t recall any this month.”
“And in December?”
“There might have been something then.”
Elsie thoughtfully nodded her head as Lulie’s eyes fluttered and closed. “Some one thing?”
“There could have been more.”
“It’s only a matter of time before they take away your new driver’s license. You could make history—the first California driver to lose his license. You’ll have to start riding trolleys.”
“You can be such a pessimist at times, my darling.”
“Pessimist? Perhaps realist is a more accurate descriptor. I want to know, what would you do if Lulie acted like Dora? Mother only wants to understand. She needed advice.”
“Your sister—”
Lulie fidgeted in her mother’s arms.
“Hush, Blake. Calm down. Can’t we have a quiet discussion?”
“You girls did not have a strong male influence growing up. No one kept you in line. You are a serious person who took her studies to heart. All those other girls could easily run amok. Lulie has me to guide and protect her. There is no doubt she will turn out like her mother.”
“So you think if my father hadn’t been ill, Dora would have been a different person?”
“No. She would have been exactly as she is.”
Elsie rolled her eyes. “You don’t make any sense. You’re only trying to soothe yourself because you haven’t any idea what you’d do if Lulie behaved as Dora has.”
“She won’t! I’ll, I’ll—”
“Look, it seems as if Carrie has made a match. The other girls will finish at Miss Orton’s before long. I’m certain their schooling will keep them out of trouble.”
“I don’t know. That other one, the one between Carrie and Aileen, she could be trouble. She’s always reminded me of Dora.”
“What do you mean, the other one? Blake Atherton, you know half the people in Los Angeles and can recite all pertinent information about them and their families, probably right down to their favorite color. Yet, you can’t remember my sisters’ names. You’re not much better with your own family. Please explain this to me. It seems some serious character flaw.” Elsie looked toward her suddenly mute husband. “Well?”
“I don’t know why. I’m thinking. Maybe I’ll try harder to remember their names. Tell me again the second youngest girl’s name and I’ll put forth a better effort.”
“Bits, short for Elizabeth. Does her name sound vaguely familiar? You’ll be paying for their weddings before long and likely walking them down the aisle. You should know their names.”
“Bits and Aileen is the youngest. Carrie’s getting married. Dora, I’ll always remember.”
“Why?”
“The girl makes an impression; you have to give her that. I always thought we had a lot in common, less so now.”
“Again, why?”
“She was jealous of you. I was jealous of Alice. The thing is, Dora never found her passion.”
“Maybe automatic writing is her passion.”
Blake looked askance at his wife. “Let’s hope not.”
“And your passion is your work.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight? My true obsession is you. Always has been. Always will be.”
Elsie turned her face away to view homes of Los Angeles as they passed by in a blur. If only Blake’s declaration was true.
* * *
Two weeks in Long Beach went by with incredible speed. Elsie happily devoted herself to activities she enjoyed although winter storms prevented much gardening. She took extra time to plan and cook hearty suppers—stews, soups and plenty of homemade bread.
Elsie especially relished her favorite place in their house; the witches cap served as her sewing room. Due to Blake’s newfound wealth, Elsie filled the attic space above the turret with enough sewing supplies and fabric to last the rest of her life. Finding time for sewing once Lulie became mobile had been an issue. It was a relief when Blake built a gate at the top of the attic staircase and applied a latch. Suddenly, Lulie could enjoy a massive playground. Aside from boxes of Christmas decorations and a trunk filled with outgrown baby clothes, the attic stood empty. Then Blake found a creative winter project. Enamored of all things wooden since the time he and Joah built their first small boat, he constructed Lulie-sized wooden furnishings so she could make a “house.” She pushed her cupboard, table, chairs, stove, cradle and ice box all around the attic, setting up housekeeping for Poncho. Elsie imagined her husband’s efforts were only to entertain his daughter and would have been surprised to know his main goal was to provide his wife the opportunity to enjoy her favorite pastime.
Her reluctance to return to Los Angeles became obvious when the Atherton family climbed into Elsie’s red Cadillac early Friday morning. Blake kept up a one-sided conversation.
“Did you ever stop and think that Lulie won’t remember any other form of transportation except the automobile?”
“She likes to see horses and always points them out,” Elsie replied.
“There are fewer horses on the streets with every passing day. Soon, they will be a rarity.”
“How can you think so?”
“Cars are clean and easily maintained. Horses are not. I can envision a day in the not-too-distant future when streets are devoid of horse manure. You can park your car and leave it for days without ill effect. Horses require constant maintenance. Henry Ford has made the Model T affordable for the common man. I’m seeing more of those boring black cars every time I’m on the road. All the emancipated ladies will demand automobiles with electrical systems and starters like your Cadillac. Which reminds me. Sunday is Valentine’s Day. I think we should celebrate.”
“That’s the day we’re meeting Zack at my mother’s.”
“But there’s no reason we can’t celebrate. I have an invitation to the Midwick Country Club. There’s a dance on Saturday night. Lulie could spend the night at your mother’s. It’s been a long time since we were able to go on the town.”
“How did you get this invitation?”
“We’re being courted to join. After all, We’re wealthy people. I’ll admit, I’m interested in the swimming pool and polo fields. There are tennis courts. You could even invite the snobby Mrs. Brundidge. I’m certain she’d approve.”
“Yes, Natalie would be in her element. Too bad she’s tied down with those two boys.”
“Ah, but Joah assures their new house is almost ready to move in. I’m certain all manner of governesses will shortly be acquired.”
“The Midwick Club is too far from Long Beach to be practical. It’s east of Pasadena.”
“Not too far from Los Angeles.”
“Isn’t it expensive to join? Aren’t those snobby people?”
“It’s quite exclusive. I don’t believe you’d find a lot of quilters or cooks there. I’m sure you’d find ample tennis competition. There’s a hefty fee to join and a monthly fee of $22.50.”
“That’s ridiculously expensive. What does it cost to join?”
“Thirty-eight hundred dollars. It might be a business advantage. I’m no more interested in hobnobbing with the elite of Los Angeles than you.”
Elsie’s jaw dropped at the staggering sum. Blake’s objections to paying for Carrie’s wedding were only meant to harass. This expenditure put the extravagance of her recent Christmas shopping excursion in perspective. “How can you even consider spending so much?”
“I keep telling you, we are beyond rich now. Why is this so difficult for you to fathom? I doubt even I could manage to fool away our money on wild business ideas.”
* * *
As always seemed to happen, the Athertons hit the mansion in Los Angeles not unlike the Santa Ana winds that raged from canyons in the fall. Blake dashed off to make telephone calls. Elsie paused to take delight in Lulie’s greeting.
“John!” she screamed and dashed across the entry, arms wide open.
Somewhat awkwardly, the very proper John stooped to pick up his favorite girl. A broad grin lit his features as she hugged his neck. “Miss Luella, so good to see you.”
And Lulie was off to the races, intent to tell the butler all recent news.
“One moment, John,” Elsie interrupted.
“Yes, madam.”
“Is Miss Penston here?”
“Yes, madam. She arrived about an hour ago. As you instructed, we turned the back storage room into an office. The telephone has been installed. We moved a desk up from the basement. I might add the wallpaper and furnishings you selected are quite becoming. If you don’t mind my saying, perhaps a bit too becoming for a workplace.”
Trying not to smile, Elsie asked, “If you would keep an eye on Lulie for a few minutes, I need to show Miss Penston her work before I go off to the Friday Morning Club.”
“My pleasure, madam.”
No sooner were those words out of his mouth than Lulie decided to head for the kitchen.
Elsie took off her gloves and hat and laid them on the entryway table. She paused to look around. This was Blake Atherton’s real life, here and at his boatyard. Recent efforts to fit her life into his only made Elsie anxious. The first time she’d seen his house, she scurried to hide at her mother’s tiny, rented bungalow near Chinatown. She felt the urge to dash out the door now. Heaving a sigh, Elsie retrieved her notes and lists from her handbag and headed down the hall to greet Miss Penston.
* * *
Blake meant to make the most of their Saturday. Having dropped Lulie off with her grandmother and bevy of aunts, Blake had his wife all to himself. A woman’s bond to her baby was unavoidable, at least for the common woman. If Elsie fully embraced wealth, they would have hired a wet nurse and nanny or governess or all three. Although Elsie seemed to have finally accepted her station in life, he doubted he would ever move her further in that direction. Their marriage seemed a perfect compromise. He rarely admitted it, but he liked the calm home life in Long Beach. Then again, his shipyard was there. Never particularly interested in social position, he wouldn’t mind avoiding public obligations as Elsie always desired. Yet, he enjoyed the game of business and wealth, always fun to play.
Although not conveniently located, Blake became intrigued by the Midwick Country Club. The Athertons arrived in the late afternoon, in time to tour the facility before dark.
“Do you play polo?” asked their guide, one Mr. Tonner.
“I never have. It looks fun.”
“I don’t play myself, but I understand it’s extremely physical. A player’s pony is important to the quality of athletic performance. You certainly appear able enough to give it a go.”
“I’m intent on enjoying my wife’s company this evening. She’s a tennis player. Perhaps we could have a look at the courts?”
Mr. Tonner and Blake exchanged pleasantries throughout the tour of the swimming pool and golf course. Not even the tennis courts caused Mrs. Atherton to comment. Her disinterest appeared entirely snobbish. Mr. Tonner imagined she’d fit in perfectly at Midwick. Little did he know her indifference was caused by an intense desire to climb in her Cadillac and return to Long Beach.
Dinner turned out to be a sumptuous multi-course affair. Sitting at a table for two near the dance floor, Blake managed to draw his wife into conversation.
During the dessert course, entertainment was provided by Miss Marguerite Faulkner and her dance partner, Edsell Martindale. Miss Faulkner introduced the featured dance of the evening.
“The fox trot is really a beautiful dance. The trend of the 1915 dances is toward simplicity and grace. People are tired of learning one intricate step after another.”
The costumed pair made their way around the dancefloor.
Blake leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear. “We could easily do those steps, even better than Miss Faulkner. Look, the dance is so simple and smooth. It works with any tempo, almost like a one-step. Step, step, side, together; slow, slow, quick, quick.” But Blake mostly liked the full-body contact. This animal dance might prove the most scandalous to date. He certainly planned to dance it that way.
In no time, the Athertons were making their way around the outside of the dancefloor while most couples attempted to learn a sedate version of the dance. Blake always intended to be a showman on the dance floor. Having Elsie’s body plastered against his, he didn’t notice when others stopped to watch. If no one at Midwick knew much of the Athertons before, they were certainly paying attention now.
Miss Faulkner apparently appreciated her new students’ prowess. She approached the couple when the demonstration ended. Content to let her husband bask in his glory, Elsie returned to their table to finish her dessert.
As she blotted her napkin on her lips, Elsie found a stranger standing over her. On closer inspection, the man was no stranger.
“Mr. Milford?”
“Ah, you remember my name. I’m flattered.” Without bothering to ask, he took a seat.
“Why aren’t you in Panama?”
“I got bored and tired of the heat. My uncle wanted to test my mettle. I became disinterested in impressing him further. Cigarette?”
“I think you should go.”
Mr. Milford lit his cigarette and made himself at home. “But you’re all alone once again. What kind of husband repeatedly deserts such a lovely lady? I will admit he’s stepped up his game. Much better to be ditched at the Midwick Club than the wilds of the jungle. It seems I’m here to rescue you once again.”
“You certainly never—”
“Who have we here?” Blake took a seat across from Mr. Milford. “I don’t believe we’ve met. What is this about a rescue?”
Milford grinned. “When a man leaves a beautiful wife unattended, he should expect competition.”
Elsie dared a glance at her husband. She’d never seen the look of sheer hatred on his face. Before she could say a word, Blake lunged across the table, grabbing Mr. Milford by the neck. The table and its contents were upended as the two men struggled at the edge of the dancefloor. Elsie, having narrowly avoided a table leg, sat in her chair, completely stunned.
Although Blake appeared to have the upper hand, Mr. Milford managed to land a few blows. Women screamed, the band stopped playing, everyone backed away, leaving Elsie holding court like some medieval princess watching knights do battle. It became apparent an enraged Blake might attempt murder in the dining room of the Midwick Country Club. She had to do something.
Elsie rose from her chair and approached the two men flailing on the floor. Grabbing Blake’s arm, she yelled, “Blake, stop this instant!”
Intent on doing as much bodily harm as possible, he threw Elsie off. She lost her balance and landed on her behind next to the brawling men. At this point, two employees pulled the pair apart and stood them on their feet. A nearby gentleman helped Elsie to hers.
“That will teach you!” Blake yelled for all to hear as he was dragged toward the exit. “Don’t molest another man’s wife.” Elsie’s face turned scarlet.
Mr. Milford grinned while being shown a different exit. “Till we meet again. Goodbye my sweet,” he yelled across the room.
All eyes were on Elsie as she grabbed her handbag from the floor and followed her husband out the door.
One thing seemed certain. The Athertons would not be joining the Midwick Country Club.