Later That Night

Rose sat on the plush couch in the living room next to her father, sipping a warm cup of tea. They did this every night, just sit and talk in their dimly lit living room.

"Did you enjoy the art festival, darling?" John asked as he took a puff from his cigar.

"It was so amazing," she said, thinking back to all the beautiful pieces of art she came across. "You should've seen it, daddy. There were hundreds of paintings and sculptures as tall as the roof! And all the people were so nice and interesting. It was great to mingle with them for a while."

He smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. "No matter how many pieces of art I buy you, its never enough," he said with a chuckle.

"Well that's because art is always changing and evolving. That's the beauty of it. There's no right or wrong answer for any particular piece." John smiled and reached over to pat her knee.

"Having something you're passionate about is good, Rose," he said. "I still don't understand why you don't take any art classes in college."

"Well, I'm not any good. I'm just an observer."

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to," he said genuinely. "You're a smart and vibrant young lady. And even though you could easily rely on your beauty to get your through life, it would be a shame to let that magnificent fire in you burn out. Use it."

Rose looked up at her father admiringly and hugged him tightly. "Only you understand me, daddy."

…

Rose laid in bed that night, looking out her window at the city. Everytime she closed her eyes she would see that handsome boy's face. His eyes were the bluest she had ever seen, and they penetrated her to the very core. Was he an artist, or an observer? She hadn't really gotten the chance to notice, but she had a feeling that he was an artist. She could just tell by his demeanor. Oh, how she wished she wasn't tied down to Cal and her society life. The boy from earlier today looked so happy; so free. She wished she could feel like that. His skin was dark from the sun, his cheeks flushed and full of life. When she thought of herself, all she saw and felt was icy coldness.

She closed her eyes and sighed to herself. It was something she would have to learn to accept, sooner or later. Perhaps her dreams of being carefree and adventurous were just that; silly dreams. For some reason, she was born into this kind of life, although she felt she shouldn't have been. At least she had her father to keep her sane. At least he was there to keep her going.

…

Rose awoke the next morning, not from her alarm and not from her mother's shrill voice, but from a sickening feeling in her stomach. Her eyes shot open and she sat up slowly in bed. She immediately felt panicked and an eerie silence seemed to seep through the walls. Something was wrong, she just knew something was wrong.

She hopped out of bed, letting her bare feet touch the cold floor. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and opened her bedroom door, peering out into the hallway. She looked from her left and then to her right, trying to find the source of this awful feeling. She clicked the door shut behind her and stood in silence for a moment; waiting.

And then she heard it.

Her mother's high pitched scream coming from down the hallway. She immediately ran towards her mother's room, where the screams were still coming. The maids joined Rose in her dash for the bedroom. She swung open her parent's bedroom door and immediately became breathless.

Her mother was standing above her father, crying, She never saw her mother cry. Her father lay motionless in bed, looking peaceful.

"What's wrong?" One of the maids asked. Ruth whipped her head around and gave another shrill cry.

"Somebody call an ambulance! He's not breathing!"

The maid bolted out of the room and ran for the phone. Rose looked at her mother, although she couldn't even see her through all the tears.

"What do you mean he's not breathing?" Rose asked, not being able to move one inch from her position.

"He's had a heart attack, I just know it!" Ruth cried. "The doctors told him that if he didn't get healthy that it was inevitable that he would have one!"

"Heart attack?"

"He's dead, Rose. He's gone and left us with absolutely nothing!"

"Dead?" Rose said in a whisper. And then, everything went black.

…

Later That Night

"Rose, snap out of it," Ruth said sternly as she walked into Rose's room. She had been in her room all day, after she had recovered from fainting. She sat on the ledge of her window, looking down at the city lights. Her eyes were no longer wet; she literally couldn't cry anymore.

Her father was gone. Her rock, her other half, her only true friend in life was gone. She couldn't believe it. Just twenty four hours ago they were sitting together, laughing and talking like only they could, and now…now she would never see him again. She was officially alone.

"My father just died, how can I snap out of it?" Rose asked in a hushed voice.

"We must move on, we must pick up the pieces and be strong women. If we don't, all of New York society will be judging us."

Rose whipped her head around and glared at her mother. "Your husband of twenty years just died and you're worried about what people will think of you?"

"Rose stop being so mellow-dramatic. Your father was warned by the doctor that this would come if he didn't take better care of himself, and he didn't listen."

"How could you be so cruel?" Rose asked in disbelief.

"Rose, your father is not the saint you thought he was," Ruth said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I think its time you know some things about your father."

"What are you talking about?" Rose asked as she turned her attention back towards the window.

"Your father had problems, many problems. Mainly with addiction."

"Addiction? Daddy wasn't an alcoholic."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Rose. With gambling. For the past ten years, he's wasted away our fortune by spending and gambling it all away, never once thinking about us; about you. He never once thought about your future every time he bet his money. He never once thought about your well being when he threw thousands of dollars down. And now Rose, we're left with nothing but bad debt hidden by a good name, and that name is the only card we have to play."

Rose stared at her mother in disbelief; the tears she thought she couldn't physically cry anymore suddenly resurfacing. "W-what?"

"I said, our name is the only card we have to play," she repeated. "Which is why the match with the Hockley's is so important. Your father knew that we had no more money when you started seeing Cal, which is why he was so fond of him."

"You're lying!" Rose said as she stood up. "My father wouldn't marry me off like that!"

"But you're wrong, Rose. It's a fine match with Hockley, it will ensure our survival."

"I can't believe this," she said as she put her hand to her forehead. "You saw me as a meal ticket, as a fucking mail order bride! Well I won't stand for it, I wont!" Rose screamed. She began to feel light headed, all of the emotions she was feeling making her become weak and frazzled.

"Rose, stop this behavior!"

Rose didn't hear a word her mother said, because she was already out the door, running as fast and as far as she could.