Chapter Three
October 16th, 1912
New York City, New York
That chilly Friday morning, not many people were in the diner. It was a great relief for Rose who had brought Leonardo Da Vinci's biography to work with her and she knew she'd have time to read a little. As usual, though, Tim Calvert was in his same booth that overlooked the intersection from the corner the diner sat on. Rose paused at the bar, gazing his direction. The man was the epitome of composed. Rose wished she could feel and look at that way. She tapped her nails to the counter for a moment more before making a new cup of coffee for Tim, hurriedly taking it to his table. He was pleasant and polite, like he normally was. And he was low on coffee and always happy for more.
"Thanks," He said, accepting the warm mug from her, "I'll need it today. Two hearings back-to-back. I probably won't even get to have lunch. This is will get me through it, for sure."
"Do you have the weekend off, at least?" Rose asked.
"Always," Tim grinned, "I need me-time, too," He cocked a bold brow up from behind his glasses, "Why? Are you doing anything fun this weekend?"
"Oh," Rose's face grew hot and she hugged herself at her elbows, laughing sheepishly, "no, actually. My neighbor's having a birthday party for his daughter and she really wants me to go."
"That's nice," Tim replied, "How old is she turning?"
"Fifteen, I believe," Rose nodded, "I'm going to buy her birthday present after work."
"Well, would you like me to accompany you to the party?" Tim asked, boldly and confidently. Rose nearly had the breath taken out of her. He was so calculated and sure in his wording. Not a moment of hesitation. She could feel the blood beneath her skin pulsating. He was asking to spend time with her. In her past half-year since the Titanic she had been so guarded, so fearful. And part of her still was that. She gazed into his hazels eye, though, and found comfort.
"If you'd like," She replied, breathily, "It will probably just be a huge gaggle of girls acting silly. Sugar, sweets, the works. Do you think you're prepared for that?" Her cheeks were red as she grinned at him now.
"Oh, believe me, I'm prepared for the squealing and the tears," Tim laughed and it made Rose's body quake, "Would you like to hear funny something about me?" Rose nodded. Tim had to chuckle again before his hazel eyes came back to her's, "I have six sisters. I'm the only boy."
"What!" Rose's mouth dropped open and her laugh echoed through the diner, "You're kidding me! Where are you in the mix?"
"I'm the second born," Tim said, "So imagine my family life growing up. I would happily attend the party with you. I think I'd be of some help to you, actually."
Rose grinned and shifted the weight back and forth between her feet, feeling light as a feather. She fished into her apron and pulled her small notepad out, "Be at my apartment by two o'clock," She scribbled her address across it hurriedly and ripped it from the pad. She paused for a moment before she held it out to Tim, who gave her a pearly smile and gingerly accepted to note from her.
"Alright," Tim glanced up from the note, his grin never wavering, "I'll be there."
...
"Winston, I'm done out here! I'm heading home!" Rose called down the corridor leading towards the stock room and mop closet. There was shifting before her boss peaked out from the storage room, a clipboard in hand, his tie flung over his shoulder, "It's okay if I leave, right? I really need to get to the pharmacy before it closes."
"Sure, doll," Winston nodded, coming into the hallway now, "The mugs are ready for tomorrow morning?" Rose nodded, "The floor is swept?" Another nod of the head, "Okay, you're free to go," He grinned paternally, "Are you going to get cosmetics for your date tomorrow?"
"Date?" Rose echoed, chuckling at Winston. She dug her hands into the pockets of her peacoat, scuffing her heels against the concrete floor, "It's not a date, Winston. And besides, how did you know?"
"I saw you give him a note," Winston said, "Classic, by the way."
"Well, Mr. Nosy," Rose turned her chin upwards in a mocking aristrocratic way, "no, I'm not buying cosmetics. We're going to a birthday party and I can't come empty handed, right?"
"And without your tall, dark and handsome man on your arm," Winston chuckled, his voice crinkling from his years of smoking, "I'm just teasin' you, sweetheart," Winston set the clipboard down on a shelf and walked towards Rose, bringing his arms up to gently touch her's, "I want you to have a grand time. It's good for you to let your hair down sometimes. Remember that, okay?"
Rose grinned and lowered her eyes to her shoes, nodding stiffly. She finally looked back to him, "Thanks, Winston."
...
October 17th, 1912
New York City, New York
Right at two o'clock, on the dot, Rose's door was knocked on. Rose had just finished her hair and cursed for letting time get away from her that day. She had woken up late, to her dismay, and spent the morning cleaning her kitchen and bathroom. She darted out to the living room, heading to the door, and muttered under her breath when she realized the books were still cluttered all over her coffee table and left scattered across the couch cushions.
She pulled the door open to see Tim in a grey three-piece suit, a big grin on his face. He looked like a lawyer every day of the week. Rose couldn't help but think he looked so charming in his vest. She liked how he kept his hair rather messy compared to the rest of his sharp looks. She grinned and stepped aside to welcome him in.
"Sorry about the mess," Rose said, closing the door after him.
He grinned, strolling towards the books on the coffee table. He stopped to admire her jammed packed bookshelves, glancing towards her desk, cluttered with papers around her typewriter. Tim leaned over beside the coffee table, his eyes following the titles.
"Quite a collection you have here," Tim whistled, coming upright again, "All kinds of different things, actually. You just read whatever sounds interesting?"
"Pretty much," Rose nodded, standing behind a loveseat, "I just like to read."
"I can tell," Tim chuckled, looking back to her bookshelves, "I'm jealous. My library is not nearly as large," He crossed back to her desk, resting his hand on her typewriter, "I have this same one in my office at work. An E. Remington 1907 model, right?" He peered along the sign, "Ah, yes, here's the engraving," He looked over his shoulder towards her, "A very good typewriter. It'll last you awhile."
"It's served me well so far," Rose said, coming to the side of her desk to join him.
"Make sure to polish at the base of the keys," Tim told her, "They get sticky after awhile."
"Good tip," Rose giggled, "I'll keep that in mind."
"So," Tim placed his hands on hips, "what'd you get for the birthday girl?"
"Oh, here, let me show you. It's in the kitchen," She gestured for him to follow her to the counter where a yellow and blue gift bag was sitting there, beggining to be opened. Rose gingerly parted the tissue paper and withdrew a clear bottle of perfume, "Liliana always comments on my perfume, so I bought her her very own bottle."
Tim took the bottle into his hand, looking at the label. He popped the cap, taking a small whiff, "Hmmm, it does smell like you," He looked back to the label, "So, you smell like popuri and lavender, huh? That's nice to know. I could never quite pinpoint the aroma."
Rose's cheeks flushed as she tucked the perfume back into the bag, fluffing the paper. She took in a curt breath, looking to Tim, "Well, I suppose we should get a move on for the party."
"Is it far?" Tim asked, "I know you said neighbor, but in New York, that could be anywhere," He grinned crookedly, "Everyone's a neighbor in New York City."
Rose smiled at the thought, "It's just across the way, in apartment 101. My landlord's daughter."
"Oh, that's easy," Tim took his glasses off his face, pulling a hankey from his coat and wiping the lens. Rose took the time to gape at his face without glasses. He looked handsome with them on or off. But she liked that she could see his eyes even better. Her pupils glided over his olive skin as he peered through the glasses for smudges before setting them back on the bridge of his nose, "Well, shall we?"
"We shall," Rose nodded, plucking the bag off the counter.
...
When Rose and Tim entered the apartment, it was loud with the shouts of excited young girls. A phonogram was belting out a jaunty jazz record near the fireplace. Edgar's apartment was bigger than Rose's with a balcony and three bedrooms. Rose closed the door behind her and Liliana peaked her head up from the group of girls admiring each other's dresses. Her brown eyes immediately lit up, "Rose! You came!" She bounded across the room, bouncing with excitement, "And you brought me a gift! Can I open it?"
"Let's wait to do all the presents," Rose grinned, "Happy birthday, Liliana."
"Who is this?" The girl asked, her blue ribbon waving in her hair, "Is this your beau? Are you two going to get married?"
"This is Tim," Rose said, "And no, to answer your question. He's my friend."
"Nice to meet you," Tim stuck his hand out to Liliana. She stared at it for a moment before her small hand did it's best to grip his larger one, giving him a noodle-like shake.
"Rose, come talk fashion with my friends and I," Liliana lunged forward, grabbing Rose's wrist and giving her a tug, "Come on, come on!"
Tim took the gift bag from Rose's hand and grinned at her, "I'll put this away. You go talk fashion. The girls could learn something from you."
Rose laughed at this as she allowed Liliana to take her away from Tim, who headed for the table near the door cluttered in frilly presents. Liliana dragged Rose to a group of five eagerly awaiting girls, all dressed up and with make up applied in a bold way, "Everyone," Liliana announced, "this is my neighbor, Rose. She's one of the most fashionable people I know. She's even been to Paris," The girls 'oooh'ed' in envy as they gazed up at Rose. Rose was only three years older than these girls, yet the divide in their interests were wide, "Rose, can you tell us about the dress you're wearing?"
"Well," Rose clucked, glancing down at what she had on. It was a light green dress with short bell sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It had golden-yellow stitching along the sleeves and collar, and a loopy designed embellished over the mid-riff. It was a simple circle skirt that cut close to her legs, giving her a sleek and slender appearance, "I believe the brand is Shelly's," Rose gently tugged at the skirt, holding the fabric out. On cue, the girls began running their hands over it, genuinely curious in the texture, "I purchased it from a boutique on Anderson and Fifty-First, it's not unique. Any of one you could own it and wear it, too."
"No, no," A girl with brown hair shook her head, "we aren't tall enough to make this cut."
"You sound very knowledgable," Rose observed, looking over all of them.
"Rose," Liliana's brown eyes caught her's, "these girls and I started a sewing club at school. We are the real deal. We even have our own brand!"
"Really? What is it?" Rose asked, smiling at the thought of them sitting small behind large clunky sewing machines. She was glad the girls had an interest such as this, it seemed good for them.
"We call it Love Six," Liliana told her, "There's six of us who sew the garments and we do it with love."
"I'd say you're well on your way to becoming a major brand," Rose said, "I'd be happy to purchase some garments from you."
"Wow, a real customer!" A girl with ashen hair cooed, toying with the tulle frill on the cuff of her plaid dress.
The group of girls broke into shrill giggles. Rose laughed and glanced towards the kitchen archway to see Tim had met Edgar. The two men had a shallow glass of golden-brown whiskey in their hands. They were looking towards the group of girls, each with a warm smile. They seemed to be chuckling about something. Rose grinned, looking towards Tim, before slowly, her smile receded and she looked straight ahead at the wall.
Tim could so easily charm people into liking him. One look from those hazel eyes, a moment to soak in that olive complexion, had everyone enraptured. Rose felt a knot constrict in her belly as she remembered Jack and his similar talent. How simple it was from a tossle of blond hair to get his way. The way his tongue shifted his cigarette against his teeth. Those blue eyes. He was an enticing spirit. Rose gazed back towards Tim, whose eyes were already on her as he took a sip of whiskey. She suddenly realized why she had been so drawn to Tim. He had Jack's spirit.
Just then, Rose was drawn from her thoughts as someone called out, "Comin' through! It's time for cake! Liliana!" It was Edgar's eldest daughter, Suzette. She was even a few years older than Rose. She was a tall and willowly girl with long arms. She kept her dark brown hair short, combed into a bob that curled at her ears. It was easy to tell she was doing her best to fill the maternal shoes of the household for the sake of her father. Suzette was a good girl.
The group of girls stampeded towards the dining room table tucked under the large picture window in the living room. Each girl claimed a seat and leaned forward eagerly. It was a simple vanilla cake, round, with two layers. The cake was lathered in pink strawberry icing with whole strawberries accenting the edges with white piped icing. There was one lone candle lit in the center. It was simplistically pleasing. Liliana looked absolutely delighted.
The adults of the room now migrated to stand around the tables behind the girls. Edgar glanced amongst the friends that had gathered with a feeling of pride, "Well, are we ready to sing?"
"Wait, wait," Suzette pressed her slender fingers to her father's shoulder, "where's Cat?" Everyone peered around the room, "Oh, there you are. Don't you see us over here, Cat?" A girl with dark brown hair plaited into a braid sat curled up on the couch, reading a book.
"Yoo-hoo! Cat!" Liliana called. Finally the sister gave up on ignoring the calling voices and looked up, very displeased.
"We're singin' to Liliana," Suzette gestured to the table with arched eyebrows.
"I can sing from here," Cat protested, "I'm at a great scene. Eric is about confess his love-"
"Okay, okay," Liliana shook her head, scrunching her nose up at her sister, "This is my party!"
"Let's just sing," Edgar said, looking between both his girls. He raised his hands to his guest, "Happy Birthday..."
Everyone joined in and smiled at Liliana, who was happy to be the center of attention again. She seemed so at ease in the spotlight, smirking at everyone like she was a grand-thing to behold. Rose smiled at her adventurous spirit. Despite being tiring to deal with, Rose figured that would be a good thing for her in the future. She was certain Liliana wouldn't allow society's rules to pin her down. As Rose continued to sing, she slowly gazed over her shoulder towards Cat, still on the couch. She had returned to her book, completely ignoring everything around her. She clung to each last word on the page. Rose recognized that look all too well.
It was the look of trying to escape.
...
After the party, Tim and Rose decided to go for a walk that cool night. They walked side by side, slowly, as they had no destination in particular. They simply wandered the desserted night time streets of New York City. They both had their hands in the coats of their peacoat, gazing around as they walked. Rose's nose became a balbous red the further they continued.
"I can't thank you enough for coming with me today," Rose finally said, glancing at the side of Tim's face. He was nearly six inches taller than her, "I don't think I would have survived on my own."
Tim tilted his head back and let out a laugh, "Oh, Rose, you don't give yourself enough credit," He looked to her with rosy windblown cheeks, "You were great with the girls."
"But still," Rose smirked, "didn't you have something better to do than attend a stranger's fifteen year old birthday on your day off?"
"Well," Tim stopped walking. Rose continued a few more paces before pausing and turning to Tim, who had long shadows cast across him from the street lamp above, "I'm sure you've noticed I've been a bit sweet on you," He grinned, nearly sheepishly, shifting the weight between his feet, "I wanted to spend time with you, Rose. I really enjoyed today. Would you want to do something like this again?"
Rose felt her entire body heat up. Her peacoat suddenly felt too hot. A gust of wind came by, blowing some loose strands across her face. Her eyes remained on Tim, who as usual, looked confident. His entire career lay in being level-headed and meaning what he said. Every day Tim exuded this discipline. Rose bit down on her lip and glanced fleetingly to the sidewalk.
"I enjoy spending time with you, too, Tim," Rose finally said. She stepped closer to him, catching a gleam in his eye from the overhead light, "But... there are things about me... my past..." She sighed as she struggled to capture the words. Tim waited patiently, "There are things about me you should know," Rose finally forced out, looking intently at him, "They are things, though, I'm not ready to talk about. And... I don't think that's fair to you."
Tim's smile never faltered. He reached his gloved hand out, squeezing Rose's bicep, "I won't force you to talk about anything. We can spend our time together on your terms. Whatever happened to you; that's your business. You can talk about it if you want, but I understand if you don't. I like you, Rose. I enjoy your company."
Rose was quaking in his touch. Tears began to brim her eyes.
"You can think about it," Tim told her, "Like I said, on your terms."
Rose lowered her eyes as the tear streamed down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip and took in a deep breath. She hunched her shoulders for a moment before she looked up at Tim, nearly breathlessly, "I do want to see you again, Tim. When we're not on the clock."
Tim grinned, squeezing her arm again, "I'm glad you feel that way, Rose."