Saturday April 22, 1933
14 days until the wedding
I'm not ashamed to admit that I sat at my vanity mirror and admired my new necklace well into the afternoon. In my defense, I didn't only stare at myself. I also manicured my nails, selected an outfit for tonight's dinner, rolled my hair up, and spritzed myself with a few different perfumes – also gifts from Royce.
I didn't even need the perfume, really. I smelled like roses and violets perpetually these days. Not to mention the peonies, tulips, lilies, hydrangeas, wisteria, mums, and carnations... My room smelled like the finest flower shop in town, overflowing with fresh blooms as it was.
And it really was hard work, tending to all the blossoms by myself. I snipped the stems and changed the water in each vase every other day. It was exhausting. I looked forward to the coming days when I would have staff to attend to such matters.
Our own housemaid, Delia, could've done the job. But realistically, this was likely the last time in my life when I'd have to lift a finger in any way. I wanted to remain down-to-earth, at least somewhat.
Sort of.
Plus, I'd have better things to do. I'd be very busy baby-making. I couldn't wait. Two weeks seemed much too far away, and time was just crawling by.
It finally came time to depart. Stealing one last glimpse of myself, I placed a kiss for good luck – as I always did – on the upper left corner of the mirror, then wiped it away.
I couldn't have a dirty mirror. I enjoyed my reflection too much.
I reminded myself over and over that patience was a virtue, but I was by the door before the grandfather clock in the study finished its 6 o'clock chiming.
I was the first one down the stairs. Daddy was next, followed by Mother, and then Thomas and Anthony. The boys were scarcely on time for events where they had to dress up, but dinner at the King estate was an exception.
Tom, in particular, appeared to be wiping clammy hands on his trousers a lot.
"Penny for your thoughts, brother?"
He scoffed and refused to meet my eyes. "Make it a dime, and then maybe."
He was a fool to waste both of our time with this game. "You tell me what's on your mind, and I'll have Royce give you a fifty cent piece."
That got his attention, but he shied away still. "Maybe later."
Whatever it was, it must've been important enough to keep him from spilling his guts for a half dollar. I let it go as our driver pulled up.
Not our driver, exactly. William worked exclusively for the King family. Since the early days of our courtship, he had been assigned the highly important task of fetching and delivering me to Royce whenever circumstances allowed.
He opened the car door for me, bowing his head slightly as I gracefully descended the front steps and slid into the vehicle. Mother found her way into the seat next to mine, and the boys climbed into the back. Daddy was in the front passenger seat, eagerly examining the dashboard of the car as if he could make its engine thrum to life by sheer force of will.
On the drive, we passed through the unavoidable slums that littered the space between the safer family-friendly neighborhoods. William had thankfully engaged the privacy screens over the windows already; it was better for our stress levels if we didn't have to suffer through looking at such unfortunate people.
After our first family ride with William, Daddy had posited that the screens had a second, secret function – to maintain the anonymity of the automobile's various occupants. If the bums don't know who's in the car, he'd theorized, they can't come for us at home.
We arrived at the King family's massive property fifteen or so minutes later, cruising past the electric gate and up the driveway. I gazed dreamily out the window, thrilling at the sight of the mansion. I thanked William and accepted his hand as he helped me out of the car.
My eyes were sponges soaking up the sight of the King estate. It was the very house that Royce and I would inherit someday, when he took over for his father at the bank.
The butler, Francis, was waiting at the entryway. As we approached, he acknowledged us with a bow and pulled the double doors open. Ada, the housekeeper, curtseyed and took our coats to the closet.
I had no idea where the coat closet was located within this house. I had never needed to know. Someone was always waiting by the door with my overcoat when it came time to go.
Francis escorted us past the conjoining marble staircases, the powder room, the solarium, and the eastern wing's library, all the way to the sitting room. Thick double doors of ebony wood obstructed our access. But not for long.
Francis turned an eye onto Tom. "Would you like to do the honors this evening, sir?"
Tom blushed deeply, his composure failing, and nodded vigorously. Then, he stepped up to the door and knocked, an elaborate rhythmic combination. Royce, Thomas, and Anthony had made up this secret signal of sorts weeks ago, much to the delight of my brothers.
There were certain things that, as boys, my brothers could only do with other boys. Such silly password games were a good example. Having only an older sister and no elder brother for aspiration left them limited in that regard. There wasn't much I could teach them, unless they needed lessons on how to walk for a pageant.
And boys weren't meant to walk in pageants. Boys and men were meant to watch pageants.
I vowed that I would give my future children multiple siblings. As many as possible, so they could all teach and learn from each other. The whole family would grow together. And my brothers would teach my eldest son…
A distinct knocking came from the other side of the door after a few seconds, and Tom's grin nearly split his face in two.
Francis opened the door for us once again and held it as we filed inside, then closed it behind us, leaving us in the privacy of the sitting room.
The room smelled musky, heavy with the scent of cigars and a pungent spice that I couldn't name. It was manly, carpeted wall-to-wall with dark jade, and had brass chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings that cast light upon the briarwood walls.
And in the leather armchairs in front of the fireplace sat my future family and the love of my life.
Royce and his father stood and fastened the middle buttons of their jackets. Both of their eyes were on me as we approached. I stood taller, putting the new amethyst necklace that draped over my collarbones on display. I felt like floating.
My fiancé looked dashing. I would've told him, but I didn't want to break the spell of my entrance just yet. He – and his father – stood enraptured as I glided in their direction.
Mrs. King did not have quite the same reaction to the blessing of my presence; rather, she stood and extended her hand cordially to my father first, then my mother, and finally me before curtsying to the boys. I didn't waste too much time on her and smiled politely without breaking my stride.
Once my path was clear, I gracefully fell straight into the arms of my prince, turning my cheek so that my cosmetics wouldn't smudge on the shoulder of his dinner jacket. His arms circled around me, squeezing briefly before putting his thumb on my chin and tilting my face up with his hand.
I was reminded of my conversation with his mother in the fitting room; he was impatient. I hadn't had more than a moment in his arms before he'd wordlessly insisted on gazing upon my beauty.
And I was very grateful for it. His ice blue eyes pierced right through me, and I could see myself reflected in them. His blond hair was combed back, and he smelled like aftershave. Perhaps that was the source of the smell I couldn't identify. I admired the smooth skin of his jaw and wished my hands were razors, so that I might get to touch the skin around his mouth and down his neck.
Fourteen days.
I knew I looked even better in the necklace than he'd imagined me to. I really was tempting him.
I waited for him to speak first. It wasn't ladylike to act otherwise, even if my looks were the reason for his loss of words. I reveled in his silence. I basked in it.
I watched as his eyes jumped – rather quickly – from my face to my chest. I felt instantly validated in my dress selection: an ivory form-fitting dress with a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves, hemming right at the knee. Due to my bare shoulders, I felt more exposed than usual in front of him; but if there ever were a time to tempt a man, two weeks before the wedding seemed like a good choice.
It was a trick Vera had suggested, and I took all the advice she had to give me. As she'd told me, she'd begun to wear increasingly suggestive clothing around Frederick the closer they got to their wedding date.
The look in his eyes, she'd said dreamily, was a hunger I'd never seen before. It's indescribable, Rose – I didn't even feel bad for driving him mad with desire! It made me feel…
Like? I'd pressed, wishing she would get to the point. I was eager to move on from the irrelevant way that he looked at her. Men looked at me all the time. I wanted to hear about the effect it had on her fertility and what secrets I could mine from the information she'd provide.
…I guess I didn't think about how I felt, she'd told me. I didn't do much thinking at all. I just felt.
And him?
She'd smiled sinfully. Well, I got pregnant.
And now Royce was here before me in stunned silence, taking in the swell of skin between my adorned neck and immaculately dressed torso. I wondered if I was having more of an effect on him than Vera had on Fred. If the trick's effectiveness increased with the beauty of the woman deploying it, then Royce should be absolutely hopeless.
He certainly seemed it, with the corner of his mouth drawing up and his jaw going somewhat slack. I got a peek of his pink tongue as it poked between his teeth. It made me feel.
I was being completely black-hearted, thrilling disgustingly at Royce's evident desire. Had we not been engaged, I would've never dared tempt him this way. I was pushing the limit as it was. This kind of behavior was what sent other, less proper girls to Hell.
But I had my prince. I did look perfectly tempting. I imagined for a brief blip that I was ugly, normal, and realized with absolute certainty that I would rather die.
His want for me only made me want him all the more. And I was sure he could see it in my eyes. He smiled like he knew it.
"Aren't you butter upon bacon tonight," he mused, his eyes reluctantly leaving my décolleté and meeting mine once more.
"Only tonight?" I mocked. I wasn't a very good actress; I tried to sell disappointment and insecurity about his assessment, but it was… a hard sell.
"Tonight, tomorrow, and at the altar, Rosie." I wanted him to kiss me.
But I'd have to settle for a quick peck on my lips as he pulled away. Despite how limitless the King family heir seemed, he wouldn't dare paw at a girl in front of her daddy. Much less a girl like me. He was a gentleman, no matter how tempting his fiancée looked.
It was good timing, anyway. Daddy practically pushed me out of the way to shake the guy's hand.
"Mr. King Junior," he grinned, pumping Royce's fist up and down with both of his hands. "How are ya this evening, sir?"
"Aces, Hale," Royce answered, but I detected a hint of frustrated sarcasm in his reply. His eyes flashed back to my chest, admiring my jewelry, and I realized he was annoyed that Daddy had cut our moment short.
A gentleman, to be sure. But still a man.
I kept my shoulders back, my neck on full display. It didn't even feel wrong, much less bad.
Poor Vera.
—
Dinner was grand, but lasted too long for my liking. It didn't help that I'd refused the appetizers and dessert. There was a sweet surprise, though; the Kings had a business contact who owned a sugarcane farm in Brazil with a small orchard, and Royce had requested a carton of fresh grapefruit to be delivered upon hearing of my dress diet. Needless to say, exclusive, fresh, exotic grapefruit was considerably tastier than what a girl could find at a supermarket these days.
We were back in the sitting room after the meal when I voiced my admiration of the fruit aloud. "I never go for seconds, especially with dessert, but that grapefruit was just too divine," I said, batting my eyelashes at my fiancé. He was seated next to me on the loveseat, and he put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek.
"Anything for my Rosie," he declared, smiling at me, then flashing a grin at his father. Royce Senior nodded his head, his hands folded in his lap. I blinked and smiled at my father-in-law-to-be a few times, too, for good measure.
I wanted him to know, wordlessly, that when Royce took over his father's bank and inherited the business relationships that came with it – exotic fruits, for example – that I was entirely capable of reaping the benefits of such relationships while simultaneously and effortlessly appearing modest and looking flawless.
He must've understood, for he smiled wider and shook his head. "Say the word and you'll want for nothing, gorgeous."
"I'll drink to that," Daddy chuckled.
"Snazzy," Mr. King heaved up from his arm chair and beckoned for Daddy to follow. "Walk with me, Hale?"
As they moseyed to a large bookshelf in the back of the room, the rest of our company struck up smaller conversations. Mother and Mrs. King began chatting rapidly about flowers for the wedding. Tony and Tom were engaged in a dice game on the rug. Tom III seemed to have forgotten about whatever had made him fidgety earlier.
And Royce and I finally had a moment alone. Well, somewhat alone.
"You're gonna spoil me rotten, Royce," I joked, bringing a hand to my sparkling neck in mock shame. "First it's flowers, then the fine jewelry, and now all the grapefruit a girl could dream of? What's next?"
"How about a baby or two?" Royce murmured in my ear, twirling a finger through the end of my hair. "That sound good to you, doll?"
I wanted to shriek with delight. "Sounds swell."
He held my chin in his hand again and put his thumb briefly over my bottom lip. "Wanna take a walk later?"
"What's wrong with right now?" I gushed. Whenever Royce talked about baby-making directly, I all but forgot myself.
"That's not up to me, sweetie," Royce's eyes darted to our fathers and back. "Father's got some good news to share, and he asked for us both to be here."
"Good news?" I repeated, dizzy. I was busy daydreaming, swirling together the colors of his eyes and mine. His shade of blond with mine…
"Have some patience, princess," he used his grip on my chin to pull me closer to him, kissing me much too quickly and with closed lips before dropping his hand. "You'll have me soon enough."
I sighed, shaking my head and trying to clear the fog. It felt like my brain was made of cotton candy. This must've been what Vera meant when she said she didn't think and only felt.
Daddy and Mr. King returned to the group then, each of them carrying short, wide glass cups filled with a honey-colored liquid. They made their way around the seating area, bestowing glasses upon Mother, Mrs. King, Royce, and I, before finally handing a glass to a very surprised Thomas III. He accepted the glass, but stared wide-eyed at Daddy and Mr. King. Frozen to the spot.
"At ease, fella," Mr. King snickered. "No coppers hanging around this house."
I realized with a jolt that our glasses were full of liquor. I'd never had a drop of liquor in my life. I'd had communion wine at church, but that was the extent of my experiences with alcohol. Booze had been banned since I was five years old.
I'd been around it, of course. I'd seen men with their flasks at the fancier parties and heard of the speakeasies and juice joints that dotted the city. I'd seen Daddy pour a glass of something once or twice. I'd only seen Royce drink celebratory champagne, against his will – he always told me he hated champagne.
I'd never been offered a spirit, much less accepted a glass.
I looked at Royce, a bit panicked. He shrugged. I looked at Mother, who was eyeing Thomas III warily. Mrs. King was holding her glass by the rim rather than the base – I corrected my form to match hers – and gazing unwaveringly at her husband, looking… bored? Maybe she was just boring-looking.
Daddy was also staring at Mr. King, but he seemed enthralled. His chest was puffing out and his cheeks were a blotchy crimson.
"Your attention please," Mr. King, the very center of attention, said. We all stood.
"Now, tonight marks exactly one week before the engagement party, and two weeks til the most splendid wedding this town has ever seen," he began. "And it's about time Rochester had something to celebrate. Town's been nearly run into the ground by greaseballs and grifters who don't know the meaning of hard, honest work. If we're not careful, America goes next. It's the integrity of men like myself, my son Royce, and Mr. Thomas Hale Jr. that keeps this country from going all wet."
Daddy shuffled his feet, blushing deeper.
"And it's families like ours that make our country morally righteous," he continued. "Our men lead the households with strength and dignity. Our women turn those households into homes for future generations with unyielding grace. Our children make their parents proud by continuing this legacy. We value purity and prosperity for our bloodline. That's why God blesses families like ours with good jobs and good looks." He winked at me.
"God brought us shelter from this economic hellscape because he knew my family was meant for greater things. God brought Mr. Hale to work for me because he's an upstanding man. God brought Rosalie to Royce. And God will bless the next generation of Kings because we embody godly values – family, freedom. And… finance."
He raised his glass. "That's why, tonight – in celebration of our shared success, as family, and to honor the couple who will bring about the King family's next princes and princesses – I thought it would be appropriate to toast Mr. Thomas Hale Junior, the bank's newly appointed internal auditor."
The loudest gasp in the room was Daddy's.
A grin split my face. Daddy had been working towards a promotion from credit analyst to financial advisor for the last several months – not an easy feat, considering the majority of people were getting laid off and put out these days. But I could tell this was a shock to him, as well. Whatever an internal auditor was, it must've been beyond Daddy's wildest dreams.
"I… sir," he spluttered.
"Can I take that as a yes?" Mr. King held his glass a bit higher. "Because I've already had the paperwork done."
Daddy seemed too shocked for words. For a minute, I was afraid he might fall over.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Daddy exhaled at last, and the room erupted into cheers.
"To the Kings," Royce held out his drink, clinking glasses with my father, then his.
"The Kings!"
I was smiling ear to ear, holding my glass at shoulder height, but not quite sure if I wanted to drink it. When Royce turned to me, expecting to tap his glass against mine, I decided it would've been rude not to partake.
He paused, our glasses touching. "You scared of breaking the law, babydoll?"
I shook my head, even though he was right on the money. My heart was pounding; I hoped he couldn't tell. "It's my first time."
Something behind his eyes flashed, just for a brief moment, and then he smirked. "You know you're safe with me, right?"
"Of course I do, darling." I rushed to smile so that he wouldn't doubt my faith in him for another second. I was embarrassed that I'd hesitated at all.
Holding eye contact with me, Royce tilted his head back and took a sip. I followed his lead, wetting my lips with the cool liquid.
As it coated my tongue, I fought the urge to grimace. It didn't taste bad, but it certainly tasted dangerous. I surmised the phenomenon of its flavor was similar to that of the vivid skin of venomous creatures, warning predators to keep their distance. This drink's taste came with a built-in warning. Proceed with caution.
I swallowed, marveling at the warm sensation that coursed through me despite the cool temperature of the drink itself.
"It's strong. And it's… fruity?" I observed aloud. How fun, how unexpected. How scandalous!
Royce put his cheek to mine, whispering in my ear. "Special delivery from Brazil."
