Cora and Frank
Italian was much harder to comprehend, let alone speak, than the transatlantic accent Miss Maple had trained them to use to converse. But today, Cora couldn't bring herself to care.
Not when she wore her brand-new red dress made of satin. It had taken almost a month for the dressmaker to finish it, and she had been so excited to wear it today. All afternoon, Cora admired it, picturing Mr. Samson's reaction when he saw her. Would he smile in that way that caused her to melt into a puddle? Would his eyes grow as he looked her up and down, once again causing her to feel much older than sixteen? Might he even give her those little pieces of heaven by kissing her cheek again?
Cora's heart almost burst at the thought of him doing any of those things today.
She had to find out, but how? Poppa would certainly have his address if he owned the factory where Mr. Samson worked, but Cora hadn't seen him in days, nor would she see him soon with the way her father worked. Even when he was home, he spent so much time in his office, their family rarely saw him. Mother might know Mr. Samson's address as well, but she would never give it to Cora.
Mother still wished for Cora to find a gentleman from the four hundred families of New York to court her. But Cora had to see Mr. Samson again, at least one more time. After all, this red dress had been his idea.
"Jane," Cora said softly as Miss Maple's class ended for the day. "Do you know where the clothing factories in New York are?" Her heart pounded as she spoke. She couldn't believe she was saying this, especially with Jane instead of Emma. But although Cora was closer to Emma than Jane, Emma hadn't seen Cora's bond with Mr. Samson the way Jane had.
Jane shrugged. "Yes, I do. That side of New York can be rather entertaining, but why? It doesn't seem like yours or Emma's type of fun." The other girl, whom Cora normally attached to fiercely bounced out of the classroom, no doubt to discuss embroidery, or horses, or fairytales with anyone who would listen, which ordinarily were some of Cora's topics as well.
But not today. Today, all she could think of was Mr. Samson.
"Mr. Samson works at one of them," Cora said into Jane's ear. "I want him to see me in my new dress, and I thought if we sort of walked over there together…" Her voice trailed off as her heart began louder and louder. Jane might not be able to hear her voice over the drum in Cora's heart.
Jane laughed as the two of them exited the school. "So, you wish to visit your new beau without your parents' permission?" Her brown eyes grew as she stared at Cora in fascination. "Even I'm not that rebellious. It was fun to dance Jim and Ronald, especially considering they would be inappropriate matches, but I'd never pursue them seriously."
Cora's heartbeat even faster. That wasn't what she was doing, she told herself again. Certainly, part of the reason it had been enjoyable to dance with Mr. Samson was because she knew Mother wouldn't like it, but that wasn't why she wished to see him now. She wanted to show him her new red dress. "Mr. Samson isn't my beau," Cora said, much louder than she normally spoke.
In fact, Caroline Taylor stopped and stared at Cora, her eyes even more judgmental than normal, before stepping into her parents' carriage.
"I simply wish to visit him today," she said, forcing her voice back to its normal volume. "Would you be willing to walk to the factory with me?"
Jane nodded. "Of course." Her eyes danced with excitement as she led Cora into a different part of New York.
OOOOOOOOO
New York City had been loud and crowded ever since Cora and her family had moved here, but that was nothing compared to the noise that reached her ears as Jane led her out of Fifth Avenue and into the working-class section. Shrikes, both human and machine, cried out all around them. The sidewalks, although never empty, suddenly had twice as many people on them. And all the people appeared dirty and lacking joy. And the further they went, the more it smelled. Not only that, but Cora wasn't used to walking this far. Her feet ached for a carriage.
Worst of all, everyone stared at Cora and Jane, as it was clear they did not belong. Cora huddled her black cashmere shawl tighter to her chest. The weather had been significantly warmer in the past week, but now she felt chilly in a different way.
"Hi sister!" one man said loudly, staring at Cora and making her jump. He was missing several teeth. He reached for her shawl, and a part of her wished to give it to him, as Poppa could always buy her another.
But Jane guided Cora away from him firmly. "Visiting these neighborhoods is thrilling, but we have to be careful." Cora nodded. She was here to see Mr. Samson, not to give her clothing away to strangers. And she was still eager for him to see her in her new red dress.
OOOOOOOOO
Finally, they reached a clothing factory with a familiar looking carriage nearby. "That's Mr. Samson's!" Cora said in delight. Her feet no longer hurt and she no longer felt chilly in any sense. In fact, she suspected she would soon feel warm in a wonderful way.
Jane nodded. "That's great. Shall we go inside?"
OOOOOOOOO
Mr. Samson greeted Cora as soon as they went inside, his smile worth everything that took for her to come here. Jane, meanwhile, eyed some of the factory workers from afar.
"So, what do you think of my red dress?" said Cora, stepping closer to Mr. Samson to see that wonderful smile better.
His eyes stared at her up and down in that special way that caused her to feel so mature. "I adore it," he said, coming even closer to her and guiding her into a small room barely sizeable enough for the two of them. "I knew red would suit you perfectly, and I'm glad you agree." His hand unwrapped her shawl to touch the dress, making her tingle much more than when their shoulders had touched on their carriage ride.
"Yes," he said firmly, pulling Cora nearer, so their chests brushed against each other, and she could feel his breath. She had been right. Her whole body felt warm in a wonderful way. Her heartbeat faster, expecting his lips to touch her cheek.
Instead, his face grew closer until his lips landed on hers. Over and over again, and Cora distantly wondered why she thought she could settle for cheek kisses when this explosion in her heart was so much better. Finally, Mr. Samson let go, still breathing deeply. "I would like to call on you this weekend, especially since you have bought a new dress."
Despite how amazing it felt to be in his arms, Cora felt nervous. How would she convince Mother to let Mr. Samson call on her in their own home? She'd barely convinced her to allow Cora to go carriage riding, and that was with Mr. Johnson's help.
And yet, the very idea of seeing him again, sipping tea in the Levinson drawing room, was exhilarating. "Mr. Samson, I would love that but – "
"Frank," Mr. Samson said, interrupting her firmly, his breath tickling her cheek. "There is no need for those formalities between us any longer, especially when it is just us."
Cora's heart swelled at the invitation to call him by his first name, and she gazed into his dark eyes, almost as if they existed just for her. Somehow, it felt as if there was a special bond between just the two of them now. "Frank," she said. "And you must call me Cora." She grinned brightly.
"Well, Cora," Frank said with that same smile that had caused her to melt in the past. She clung tighter to his arms in response. "Then surely you see how necessary it is for me to see you again this weekend. Especially if you wear that dress again." With that, his lips touched hers again, and she had to agree.
OOOOOOOOOO
Jane commented on how rugged many of the factory workers were as they walked back to Fifth Avenue, but she'd struggled to talk to them because the room had been so dusty; everyone coughed all the time. Cora nodded, but barely paid attention. And the noises, the smells, and the poor people that had made her uncomfortable before didn't bother her at all.
Nor did her feet ache; on the contrary, she felt as if she might fly home. Everything about today, from the explosive kisses to the exchange of first names, to the way her Frank spoke to her confirmed what she'd wondered about after their carriage ride.
Cor was in love with Frank Samson. She had found her love, just like Amy and Lucy. And she had this lovely red dress to thank.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Where have you been, Cora?" Mother said sharply when she arrived home Her face was scary, appearing like it would turn as red as her hair soon. "And what makes you think you can go out and about looking so unladylike?"
Cora no longer felt like flying. She stared down at her satin dress, noticing it was covered with dust. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said with a sigh. "I know I should take better care of my clothing but, – " she wondered how to explain that she'd gone to the factory to see Mr. Samson. No, her Frank.
It was pointless because Mother didn't let her.
"But nothing," she said loudly, shaking her head. Her face was now the same color as her hair. "You will go upstairs and clean yourself until I see the proper young lady Miss Maple is training you to be." Once again, Cora wondered why she had to be so proper if Mother never followed the same rules, but she went upstairs, anyway.
OOOOOOOOO
Cora came downstairs in time for dinner, after a maid had removed her dress, washed her face, and redid her hair. She wore a lovely blue dress as Mother, Harold, and her ate the roast duck. As they ate, she wondered how to explain Frank would come calling on her this Saturday.
Despite her nerves, a warm feeling ran through her body as she thought of his first name. And the way he said hers. Oh Frank, I love you, Cora thought as she swallowed another piece of duck.
Distantly, she heard Harold discuss a game he and his friends had played at school, but Cora's mind was still on Frank. His words, his smile, and especially his kisses. Mother had to agree to let him come see her this Saturday. And she needed more red dresses, too, as they were clearly very important to Frank.
So lost in her daydreams, Cora barely noticed they were eating dinner.
OOOOOOOOO
After they'd finished a dinner and dessert that Cora also paid no attention, Harold eventually retired upstairs. And Cora took a deep breath, knowing she needed to say this right. Dear Mr. Johnson was not here to help her this time.
"Mother, Mr. Samson would like to call on me this Saturday," she said, careful not to call him Frank. Mother would have enough trouble with this without hearing that. "Wouldn't that be a nice way to spend an afternoon?" Cora could already picture him in this drawing room, and it was an exciting image. Would he sit on one of the armchairs as she and Mother were sitting in now, or might he prefer the sofa or window seat?
Mother, of course, was not excited.
"Cora, I knew it was a bad idea for you to spend time with that man last month," she said, shaking her head. At least her face wasn't the color of her hair this time. "You're becoming too attached to him, and he's not right for you."
Cora had always hated arguing, especially with her parents. As far back as she could remember, she loved doing things that made them smile, and fighting with them caused her heart to ache. But the idea of not seeing her Frank again made her heart ache even more. "Why isn't he right for me?" she said, her voice not nearly as calm as it usually was. "Because he's not from one of the four hundred families of New York, or even as wealthy as Papa? What happened to the mother back in Cincinnati who loved to socialize with everyone, from the wealthy doctors and lawyers, to people like Mr. Johnson?"
Cora's heartbeat faster and faster as she suddenly unleashed what had bothered her most about her mother since they'd moved to New York. She'd changed, and not for the better. And Cora's heart ached, but it needed to be said.
But Mother glared at Cora in response. "Excuse me? I am still your mother and expect to be spoken to with more respect. I expect that kind of thing from Harold, but not from you." Guilt filled Cora, and she stared at the blue oriental rug for a moment. Meanwhile Mother's voice said, "I do wish you to choose a man in proper New York society, but that's not the only reason why I don't like you to spend time with this Mr. Samson. His too much of a flatterer for my taste; it's suspicious, especially considering he hasn't spoken to your Poppa about you."
Cora sighed. "Speaking with Poppa about personal matters is never easy for anyone, considering we never see him anymore." She glanced around their drawing room. It was the fourth day in a row he'd hadn't come home from the office. Cora missed her father, but she didn't see what could be done about it. There should be something she could do about her Frank.
"And certainly you cannot be upset at Mr. Samson simply for being nice," Cora said more calmly, but still feeling rather frustrated with Mother. The woman truly was a drama queen. Cora adored the way he complimented Poppa's business just before they went carriage riding, and even more the compliments he'd bestowed on her.
Speaking of that, Cora needed to see about obtaining more red dresses. Her entire body warmed as she remembered her Frank's reaction to the red dress she'd worn earlier today. Those kisses…
Mother sighed loudly, interrupting her daydreams. "You're much too naïve for your own good Cora; that kind of 'niceness" often means more than meets the eye. Who knows what he might convince you to do."
Cora stared at the floor, so Mother wouldn't see her blush at everything Frank had already "convinced her to do." But it was different, she told herself. She and Frank loved each other, so there should be nothing wrong with kissing.
"While if he comes calling this Saturday, you will be here too, right?" Cora said, finally lifting her head. "He certainly won't be able to "convince me to do" anything in that case." She longed for another chance for Frank to kiss her, but just to see him smiling at her in her red dress was enough.
Especially if Mother would finally approve of him.
But Mother was already shaking her head. "Cora, this isn't a good idea."
It wasn't like Cora to be this pushy; she tended to accept whatever people said or did as best. But she had to see the man she loved again. "Mother, please." She stared hard into her mother's eyes, hoping she would finally understand how important this was.
OOOOOOOOOO
A week later, Mother understood how important Frank was to Cora, because he was sitting on the royal blue sofa with her in their drawing room. He looked as handsome as ever, in a clean grey suit with his hair combed perfectly. Best of all, he wore that smile that always caused Cora to melt.
Naturally, Cora wore the satin red dress. And her Frank clearly adored it just as much as he did last week, with the gleam in his eyes. She felt both excited and fluffy as her feather pillow. "I am honored to see your drawing room today," Frank said glancing around. "It looks rather different than it did on New Year's. You have decorated it well."
Mother nodded, sipping her tea without saying anything. Cora hoped she still wasn't irritated at Frank just for being nice.
"We are honored to have you here today," Cora said to show her support.
Frank's smile grew larger, and Cora's heart leaped. Oh, how she loved this man. When would he be able to kiss her again? "The factory is doing even better than ever in the last couple of months," he said smoothly. "We're making more cloth than ever. The business will be good for all of us."
Mother still said nothing. "I know it will," Cora said. To her delight, Frank took her hand and squeezed it, filling her with warmth in a way that had nothing to do with tea. She squeezed his hand in return, sharing her love.
"I'm a little worried about the people who live near the factory," Cora said, suddenly remembering the dirty people she'd encountered on her way to visit Frank earlier in the week. "Is there a charity that could help them?"
Mother brightened and put her tea down. "The New York Charity Organization would be ideal and would appreciate our support. They are said to give alms only to people who deserve it." Cora smiled, glad that her mother's mood was improving.
But her Frank shook his head. "It's really not the best to give any of these people alms," he said as he took her hand again. "Don't you see how well your father has succeeded by doing everything on his own?" Cora paused, never having thought of that. "You wouldn't be nearly as proud of him he hadn't, would you?"
"Of course not," Mother said in the background, but Cora barely heard him, because her focus was on Frank's lips on her hand. She didn't even feel the teacup in her hand or see anything but her prince. Her heart soared, and she knew he was right.
What was even better was Mother finally agreed he was, too. In fact, Mother had even agreed Frank could call on Cora again sometime.
OOOOOOOOO
But though Mother agreed to let Frank call on her again, she clearly hoped Cora would catch the eye of someone she considered more suitable. That was obvious when Mother bought an opera box and arranged for them to see Tristan and Isolde.
Their carriage approached the Metropolitan Opera House slowly. "Yes, I think that gown suits you well, Cora," Mother said as she adjusted the puffy sleeves of her blue silk. She still needed a red gown, but Cora was rather glad that one hadn't been made yet. She felt as if she should only wear red for Frank.
Mother's gown, on the other hand, was red. The sleeves weren't quite as puffy, but the hoop skirt was just as large to attract attention. Which was exactly what she wished to do. It was what she always wished to do.
Cora didn't mind much, really if only Mother would stop using the attention to search for "appropriate men." But now, she sighed a bit too loudly as they approached the magnificent opera house. "Now, Cora dear, you know this is a great chance to practice the Italian that Miss Maple has been teaching you," Mother said, much brighter than she normally spoke. "And as the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers are some of the sponsors, perhaps we will see your friends here."
Cora smiled at that as they exited the carriage.
Mother introduced Cora to everyone she saw as they made their way to the Levinson Opera box, with an obvious ear for any of the first families. Unfortunately for Mother, none of the Grinnells, Stewarts, Sloans, Dodges, or Van Cortlands wished to talk to the Levinsons. They smiled with a polite nod, but moved on quickly, no matter how many times Mother attempted to initiate small talk or even when Cora tried a gentler version.
Meanwhile, Cora kept an eye for Emma or Jane.
Even though she hadn't found her friends yet, Cora grew excited as they continued toward their opera box, listening to the chatter of the other patrons in the background. She had always enjoyed the energy of crowds of people eager for an event. "Why hello, Mr. Morgan," Mother said, her eyes wide as she stopped in front of another one of the sponsors. He was a balding man with white hair near his ears. "I am Martha Levinson and this is my daughter, Cora. You should be very proud of your new opera house."
J. P. Morgan puffed out his chest in pride. "Yes, we are all glad she's doing well, although the house isn't that new anymore, having been in use for almost four years now. Still, the new German opera is doing better than we have expected."
Mother's eyes lit up that someone had finally decided to return her conversation, even if the Morgan's were almost as newly rich as Poppa, and therefore, not one of the first families. "Tristan and Isolde is written by a German composer, is it not?"
J. P. Morgan grinned. "Yes. Considered Wagner's best." He looked ahead several feet and said, "Johnny, come back here, please." Mother's eyes grew the size of her head as she realized Mr. Morgan's son was there, too.
"Why hello young Mr. Morgan," Mother said, looking the young man up and down as he approached them. He was blondish and clearly about the same age as Cora, but she wished he were taller; she had to look down a bit to see him. "I am Martha Levinson, and this is my daughter, Cora Levinson."
Young Mr. Morgan nodded politely, but Cora hoped a flash of disappointment didn't show when he heard their last name. And the young man's smile wasn't nearly as warm, let alone as melt worthy as Frank's. "I am pleased to meet you," he shook both their hands, causing Mother to beam, but Cora's hand didn't tingle when he touched it, as when her Frank touched her.
She didn't long for him to touch his lips to her hand.
"I don't suppose you would like to sit with us in our opera box tonight, young man?" Mother said, beaming as she looked between Cora and the other young man. "Or perhaps come back to our home for a drink?"
Young Mr. Morgan was quiet for several moments as he looked from Cora to his father and back to Cora again. Finally, he said, "I am afraid that will not be possible, but I appreciate the offer all the same." With that, he and his father disappeared into the crowd.
Both Cora and Mother sighed, though probably for very different reasons. "So close," Mother said as they climbed into the opera box. "Of course, he isn't from the first families, so I suppose you could do better, but…"
Yes, Cora thought to herself. I could do better. And an image of Frank appeared with his tall form and wonderful smile. The way he'd said Cora still sent a shiver through her body, and best of all his kisses were full of love.
Italian was still a struggle, and Cora had never learned to read German so the information on the pamphlet was lost to her. But from what she could see, it appeared as if Tristan and Isolde was about a woman who married one man while being madly in love with another.
But that couldn't possibly be right, as all love stories should have happy endings. But the Levinson Opera box felt smaller and smaller as the performance continued, and Cora's stomach sank lower and lower.
Certainly, seeing her Frank would make everything better. No matter what, he was her prince, and she loved him. When would he call on her again?
