1917
It was two days before Thanksgiving. Iris Brown—who was in the city from Akron, visiting a well-to-do great aunt with an apartment on Park Avenue—closed the mid-November 1917 issue of Vogue that she had been perusing. "Excuse me...Marie, was it? I'm getting bored with this magazine. Would there perhaps be a different one that I could look at?"
Marie Davis, senior hairdresser at the Iroquois Hotel's beauty salon, was in the middle of marcelling Iris' limp blond hair and thus, was holding an extremely hot piece of metal in her large, almost manly hands. Marie was in no position to fetch a magazine for her client. "Why certainly. We just got in this month's issue of Vanity Fair. Would you like to look at it?" Marie suggested.
"If you would be so kind," Iris requested politely.
Without looking up from Iris' half-marcelled head, Marie called towards the reception desk. "Alice, please bring Miss Brown the new Vanity Fair. It should be on the desk to your right with the rest of today's mail."
Alice was standing behind the reception desk pretending to examine the appointment ledger. It was an hour before closing time; the three women were the only people in the salon. Upon hearing her name, Alice looked towards Marie. "Of course, Marie. I'll be right there."
Alice had not failed to take in Marie's tone. Bring it quickly and go back behind the desk before she can get a good look at you—is what Alice had heard. Alice looked down and quickly found the issue of Vanity Fair, as it was the only larger item amongst that day's mail. She picked up the magazine and slipped out from behind the reception desk, walking over to Iris, trying her best to avoid catching her own reflection in the many ornate mirrors that graced the ivory-painted walls of the salon. Alice presented the Vanity Fair with one hand while taking the copy of Vogue with the other. Iris Brown barely looked at Alice when the exchange was made. This was a great relief to both Alice and Marie.
Alice placed the magazine that she had taken from Iris on a low, round white marble table by the front entrance and then returned to the reception desk. All day she had been wondering if, despite her girdle, anyone besides Marie—whom Alice had confided in one day after she made her sixth trip to the ladies' room in two hours—suspected her secret. Alice knew that she would have to stop working soon. While she was just starting to show she could still easily explain away the thickening of her midsection as a result of indulging in too many of the almost-stale-but-not-quite baked goods that the kitchen parceled out to hotel staff at the end of each day. If she could only afford a maternity corset, perhaps she could work a month longer, but Alice was just scraping by to pay for her rent and groceries as it was. And even if she had the money for such a corset, how could she go and purchase one without a wedding ring on her finger? She would be far too ashamed. Alice touched the cotton candy pink fabric of the salon uniform that covered her stomach. Usually, she could last until supper just by eating a piece of toast and drinking two cups of coffee for lunch. But now, she was spending whatever extra money she had on food to satiate her seemingly unending hunger.
If only Les were here, Alice thought. Things would be okay then. But would they really? If Les knew that she was pregnant, would he offer to marry her? That is what her parents would want—or more to the point, what they would demand. And Alice's parents—how would she tell them? When she had visited her folks at the beginning of the month for her mother's birthday, no one had caught on—of that she was fairly certain. Alice knew that Les wasn't in love with her, but maybe he would grow to love her over time. Sure, she could be flighty at times, but she could cook well enough and sew a little...at least enough to sew on a button or darn a holey sock. She would be a good wife, if Les would have her.
Also, what of Les' family? They had been nice enough to her at his going away party, but they had been warm to everyone who stopped by to wish Les well.
To make matters worse, Alice didn't even know how to reach Les. According to the hotel's head waiter, Frank Corbin, Les had apparently been back in New York for two days at the end of July after returning from Chicago—where he had done his basic training—but he hadn't contacted her. Some of the junior waiters that Les had been friendly with said that he had taken a boat to Ireland where he then transferred to the ship which he had been assigned to. Alice simply didn't know where she should send a letter to. Les' family would surely know, but Alice was too embarrassed to ask them.
Suddenly, Iris let out a sigh of displeasure. "Almost everything for the winter season is navy blue or gray. I can't wait until this war is over. We need color back in our lives—don't you agree Marie?"
"It's better than having to wear black," Alice said impulsively. Her eyes shone indignantly down at the reception desk.
Iris and Marie turned their heads to stare at Alice, shocked that the girl had the audacity to say such a thing, particularly in front of a customer. Marie was so surprised that she almost burned the section of Iris' hair that she had clamped in the marcel iron before coming to her senses and withdrawing the implement from Iris' head.
Iris' cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean—I—I hope that didn't come out like it sounded."
Alice realized that she had put her foot in her mouth. She looked up at Iris. "I apologize, miss. I shouldn't have said that," she said meekly while nervously thumbing a corner of a page of the appointment ledger. But honestly, Alice wasn't sorry. What did it matter anyway? She would only be working at the salon for a week or two longer.
"We know what you meant," Marie said, trying to cover for Alice. "It's just—we have had several young men from the hotel leave for their training recently. Some are already in Europe." This was not a lie. Les was one of a handful of male employees who had been drafted.
"Oh, I see." Iris replied, somewhat vexed that she had been made to feel as if she had erred when it was Alice who had spoken out of turn. "So many of our fine young fellows are leaving us these days." Iris quickly buried her nose back into her magazine, not wishing to prolong her hair appointment. She had tickets for that evening to see Miss 1917 at the Century Theater with her Great Aunt Jane and didn't wish to be late.
Marie moved the curling tongs to another section of Iris' hair. Without looking up, she said, "Alice, perhaps you could go in the back and unbox the delivery from this morning. It should be the hair color that we've been waiting for."
A/N: I decided to push off introducing Eli for a few more chapters yet. I don't want any character in this story to read as flat or as one-dimensional. Peppered throughout the remainder, I will add short flashback chapters set in 1917, in order to round out Les and Alice's side of the story. The next chapter will introduce another familiar face from the movie!
