Authors: Jean Nash
“‘Sunny’,” he said pensively, watching the dance of dappled sunlight on her rose-colored cheeks. “The name does suit you. But I’d rather call you Susanna. Would you mind if I did?”
A fleeting emotion, too ephemeral to grasp, stirred faintly within her and was gone before she was even aware of it. “No, I don’t mind.”
“And you must call me Jay.”
“Yes, all right.”
The words seem to come from a part of her psyche that only he, as if by sorcery, controlled. He continued to watch her with that lazy admiring smile. Susanna felt dizzy, lightheaded. She must have been working too hard today. She closed her eyes for a moment, but she still saw his face. He sat there in silence, but she still heard the low tone of his mesmerizing voice.
Jay drew out his watch and snapped open the cover. “It’s past three, but something tells me you haven’t had lunch yet. Am I right?”
Susanna opened her eyes as if rousing from a dream. The room seemed bathed in a radiant glow, and Jay at its center seemed the source of warmth and light. “No, I haven’t,” she said slowly. “But how did you know?”
“You look hungry,” he said, and his smile became playful.
She
felt
hungry the moment he said it, and that was odd because her appetite lately had been spare. “I am hungry,” she confessed, “ravenous, in fact.” She reached for the telephone. “I’ll have something sent in. Will you join me, Mr. Grainger?”
“Jay,” he corrected her, moving the telephone out of her reach. “And, no, I won’t join you. You’ll join me. I’m taking you to the United States Hotel for a meal that will delight you.”
“I couldn’t,” she protested, but Jay rose, took her arm and propelled her to her feet. “I have too much work to do. I can’t possibly leave the hotel in the middle of the day.”
“Oh, yes you can,” he insisted, directing her toward the door. “I’m your partner. You must do as I tell you.”
She looked up at him swiftly, ready to do battle, but then she saw in his dancing eyes that his command had been in jest.
“Will you obey me?” he said in that same tone of mock authority.
His hold on her arm, pleasurably warm and protective, left her absolutely powerless to resist him.
Six
Outside the Sea Star, a small crowd was gathered around an unfamiliar vehicle.
“Why, that’s an automobile, isn’t it?” Susanna asked as she descended the porch steps with Jay. “I wonder whose it is.”
“It’s mine,” he said. “I had it shipped down from
New York
the last time I was here. Have you ever ridden in one before?”
“Ridden in one? I’ve never even seen one, except in photos.”
“You’re in for a great treat, then.”
The crowd stepped aside as Jay and Susanna approached the vehicle, which resembled a brougham. The body was black with a discreet touch of gold, and it shone from a recent polishing like a thoroughbred racehorse. Inside the auto, across the leather seat, lay two linen coats, a length of veiling, and a driving cap.
“Put these on,” Jay said, handing her one of the coats and the veiling, “or you’ll be covered with road dust by the time we arrive at the
United States
.”
He helped her into the coat, then put on his own and handed her into the auto. As they pulled away with a jolt, Susanna said, surprised, “It’s so quiet. I thought automobiles made a terrible racket.”
Jay maneuvered skillfully down the curved driveway. “This is an electric. It’s much more pleasant riding in one of these than in a gasoline-driven auto, but it only has a range of thirty-six miles or so. If the batteries go dead, we’ll have to suffer the indignity of hiring a team of horses, hitching them to the auto, and being towed to the electric plant on
New York Avenue
. That’s already happened to me several times and, invariably, some wiseacre of a pedestrian has shouted, ‘Get a horse!’”
Susanna laughed, feeling very jaunty and
au courant
in her driving togs. As the automobile purred down Pacific Avenue toward the United States Hotel, people on the street turned to stare (some to jeer), and more than one skittish horse reared in fright as they passed by. Riding in the auto, with no visible means of propulsion, Susanna felt as if she were on a magic carpet piloted by the dashing hero in Oehlenschläger’s
Aladdin
, the fairy tale that represents the attainment of all yearning.
“This is wonderful!” she exclaimed.
Jay glanced over at her and smiled. “I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.”
She turned to him curiously, but his attention had returned to the road. How had he known she would enjoy it? Why, in fact, should he care about her enjoyment? He was indeed a sorcerer, this man whom she alternately resented and admired. In the space of less than an hour he had lifted her spirits, dispelled her animosity, and made her feel as unburdened as a schoolgirl.
Susanna tried to dislike him again and found that she couldn’t. Moreover, it was too lovely a day to be angry. And he had made her laugh, something no one had done for her in a long time. As she watched his coin-clean profile, she wondered why he, a veritable stranger, should have so powerful a hold over her emotions. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. But she had to admit she did like being with him—even though, she thought guiltily, she probably shouldn’t.
As it was well past the lunch hour, the elegant restaurant of the United States Hotel was empty. Susanna and Jay were almost denied admittance until Jay slipped the haughty maître d’hôtel a quantity of greenbacks.
The instant the money changed hands, the man underwent a miraculous metamorphosis. “Welcome, monsieur, madame,” he murmured. “I am Henri. Request whatever you wish. I am here to do your bidding.”
Bowing solicitously, he showed the couple to a table near an open window that looked out on the parterre garden. He seated Susanna, bowed again to Jay, and disappeared for a moment.
Presently, he returned with a waiter who immediately set the bare table with spotless white napery, lustrous china, gleaming silverware, a bowl of fresh flowers, and two tall white candles. When the waiter left, Henri produced two gilt-edged menus and handed them with a dramatic flourish to Jay and Susanna.
“Will you order now?” he asked fawningly.
“In a moment,” Jay said, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Will you have some sherry, Susanna?” When she nodded, he said to Henri, “Two glasses of Amontillado. Choice ‘57, if you have it.”
“We do indeed, sir!”
A third bow from Henri, followed by another vanishing act. When he was out of sight, Susanna burst into astonished laughter. “I’ve never in my life seen a person’s behavior change so drastically!”
“Money talks,” Jay said. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
He spoke the words lightly, but Susanna detected a seriousness beneath the comment.
“It’s a good thing you’re so rich, then,” she said. “I imagine you can have just about anything you want.”
He thought this over for a moment, then answered, “Material things, yes. There are some things, though, that money can’t buy.”
“I’ve heard that said before,” Susanna said dryly, “usually by the people whose money will buy them everything they want.”
“I won’t be so fatuous as to deny that,” Jay conceded. “I’ve been both poor and wealthy, and being wealthy is infinitely preferable.”
“You’ve been poor?” She was surprised. “When?”
“I was six years old when my father lost his money during the gold panic. For several years thereafter, he had to sell possessions that had been in our family for centuries just to keep food on the table. When everything was gone, we were plunged into a state of destitution such as I had never known existed.”
The waiter returned with the sherry. Jay sampled it, nodded approvingly, and when the waiter left, Susanna urged him to continue.
“Ultimately,” he said, “my father was forced to sell our house, the house, by the way, in which his grandfather had been born. We moved into a three-room flat on
Prince Street
—my parents, my two sisters, my brother and I.”
“You have a brother and sisters?” Susanna interrupted. It was still difficult for her to think of him in connection with a family.
Jay apparently discerned this, for he said ironically, “You don’t suppose I came into this world full grown and unattached, do you?”
Embarrassed, she said quickly, “No, of course I don’t. That was a foolish thing for me to say. It’s just that you seem so...so....”
“Yes?” he prompted.
“So...individual,” she said. “Self-sufficient. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself properly.” Flustered by his steady gaze, she said hastily, “Please go on with what you were saying. I’m enormously interested.”
“There’s not much more to tell, Susanna. After my father sold the house, it completely broke his spirit. He never once thought of looking for some means of sustenance. The truth is, he wasn’t much suited for anything but what he was, a gentleman of leisure, an amateur horticulturist, a connoisseur of art. Even when my mother and brother contracted consumption....”
Jay fell silent all of a sudden, and a look crossed his face that made Susanna want to reach out and take his hand in hers.
“My father,” he went on in a low, recollective tone, “knew there was no way he could raise the money for the care they needed. We were living on what he managed to borrow from friends and business associates. I was twelve or thirteen at the time, working at various jobs that paid nothing really, but I was determined to earn enough money to send my mother and brother to a good hospital in a healthful climate. That never happened, of course. I seldom made more than a dollar or two a week. My father was finally forced to send them to the state sanatorium in
Albany
. They died there.”
Jay looked down at his wine glass, and his hand tightened on the stem. He looked up after a moment, saw the grave look on Susanna’s face, and gave her a reassuring smile.
“When I was sixteen,” he said in a more conversational tone of voice, “I started working at the old Metropolitan Hotel. The rest, as they say, is history.”
Susanna was too moved to comment. How dreadful for him to have lost his mother and brother in that way. How old had he been? Twelve or thirteen? That was the same age Susanna had been when
Augusta
abandoned her.
Jay picked up the menu. “Shall we order? You must be famished.”
Oddly, Susanna’s hunger was gone. An emotion unclear to her had taken hold of her senses and had dulled them to anything but Jay. She wanted to know more about him,
all
about him, though she didn’t stop to wonder why. She picked up her menu. The words were a meaningless jumble. All she saw, all she felt was Jay’s intensely compelling presence. And as strange as it seemed to her, all she wanted was that this day with him should never end.
Lunch was a Lucullan feast. They began with fried clams with parsley, followed by a savory blanquette of pullet with mushrooms. The entrée was a butter-tender Chateaubriand with souffléd potatoes. For dessert they chose an angel cake so heavenly light that Susanna was strongly tempted to ask for the recipe.
What a refreshing change this day had been. Susanna couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a meal outside her own hotel. When she mentioned this astonishing fact to Jay, he said with a smile, “Then I shall see to it that you do so more often.”
After lunch, they took a leisurely drive to Absecon Inlet, beyond
Maine Avenue
, where there were no hotels, no houses, only nature in its element. Sea grass undulated in the gentle ocean breeze. Periwinkles clung to the reeds in the salt marshes. Sandpipers and plovers strutted arrogantly at the shoreline. Gulls, sleek and beautiful, flew joyously overhead. It was
Atlantic City
as few people saw it now, a magnificent primitive wilderness, a sun-drenched expanse of sand and sea and limitless blue sky.
As they walked along the water’s edge, Susanna breathed deeply of the tangy air and lifted her face to the warm late-summer sun. She and Jay were bareheaded. They had left their hats in the automobile. Jay kept glancing over at her as they walked. Once, when her eyes met his, she felt the strangest sensation in the pit of her stomach.
A quartet of haughty sandpipers strutted directly across their path. Jay took her arm and deftly guided her around the brazen birds. At his touch, a great sense of warmth and well-being filled Susanna, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
“I could never live anywhere but here,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know how you New Yorkers can stand all the noise and congestion of the city.”
“It’s odd you brought that up,” Jay said, his long stride checked to keep pace with her graceful step. “I was about to invite you to come to
New York
, perhaps during the Christmas holiday. I think you might find a trip there beneficial and enjoyable.”
“
New York
?” she said, shocked by the suggestion. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Susanna,” he said with a trace of impatience, “I’ve known you for such a short time and yet that phrase of yours, ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ is becoming as familiar to me as my own name.”
“But, Mr. Grainger—”
“
Jay
, Susanna.”
“But, Jay,” she corrected herself, “
New York
is really out of the question. In the first place, I couldn’t afford such a trip. In the second place, who would run the Sea Star in my absence?”