A Walk in the Garden

A Walk in the Garden

  By Karen Guffey

  Copyright 2011 Karen Guffey

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Haven't you had enough, Marie?"

  "No," she replied, too busy looking around to spare her companion a glance.

  "Your father will kill you if you get home past midnight. And me if he finds out where I've taken you."

  "Don't worry, Tom--it's barely 11:00. We'll leave in half an hour."

  Marie was entranced by the music and lights and laughter of the speakeasy. For months she'd been nagging her cousin Tom to bring her here. She wasn't quite daring enough to come alone or with a girlfriend; she knew that unescorted women were considered fair game for anything a man might have in mind. But she'd been dying to be in the middle of the excitement she was always reading about.

  "Another drink?" a waiter asked them.

  "I'd like--"

  "Marie!"

  She glanced down her nose at Tom and turned back to the waiter. "I'll have a Coca Cola." She shook her head, telling her cousin, "I'm not stupid, Tom--I know how easy it is to get drunk." She'd had one deliciously forbidden cocktail--alcohol had been illegal for seven years now--but that was enough to satisfy her curiosity and yearning for adventure. She felt pleasantly lightheaded, but she didn't want to get drunk.

  They left at 11:30 as Marie had promised, and Tom was relieved that no one was awake at her house. Uncle Jefferson was extremely protective of her, trusting her only with Tom himself and with Davis Runyon, her beau. Tom didn't much trust Davis. He might not take her to a disreputable place like tonight's speakeasy, but Tom thought that Davis was a cold opportunist who saw Marie as part of a package deal--a high position in a successful company, a powerful father-in-law, a rich society wife. Tom could barely stand to be in the same room with him. An only child, he'd always considered Marie more a sister than a cousin. He'd adored her all his life, and that made it virtually impossible for him to refuse her anything--like an evening at a speakeasy. But it also made him very protective of her.

  Marie fell asleep that night dreaming of Davis. He was tall and handsome, just like the heroes in the books she loved to read. His only flaw was that he preferred making money to having fun. She giggled sleepily as she thought of how horrified he'd be if he ever found out where she'd been tonight. But then, he had to be careful if he wanted her father's approval. Her father was very strict, and he would never let her marry a man who was frivolous. But after they were married . . . she gave a small sigh of pleasure, imagining herself doing the Charleston with Davis and going to parties--and maybe even traveling to Hollywood! That was her big dream. She longed to see Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, to experience firsthand the fantasy of the picture shows.

  Marie was dressed by 10:00 the next morning, anticipating a day of shopping. Adjusting her hat a bit, she tapped at her father's office door.

  "Yes?"

  She opened the door. "Oh, I'm sorry, Father. I thought you were alone."

  "That's all right, my dear. Mr. Lawson and I were just concluding our business." He stood, addressing the young man who'd risen when Marie entered. "I don't believe you've met my daughter. Marie, this is Daniel Lawson. He's just bought that piece of land I'd intended to use for a warehouse a few years ago."

  Daniel smiled at Marie, shaking the hand she'd extended. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Tranton."

  "Likewise, Mr. Lawson."

  "I'll have my lawyer send you the papers, Mr. Lawson," Jefferson Tranton said. He showed his guest out and then returned to kiss his daughter's cheek before sitting down behind his desk. "You look lovely this morning, my dear."

  "Thank you. I didn't mean to interrupt. I didn't think you were going to be doing business at home this morning."

  "Young Lawson is eager to close the deal as quickly as possible. Says he's going to build two houses on that property. Not a good location for houses, in my opinion, but who can tell young people anything these days? I hear that he bought two other pieces of land last month. Bad investment, in my opinion. Ought to invest in the stock market." He smiled at his daughter. "Never mind, my dear. What plans do you have today?"

  "I'm going shopping. Do you have any pocket change to spare?" She received a nice allowance, but she knew she could always count on her father for a little extra.

  "Let's see." He took out his wallet and pulled out a ten. "How's this?"

  "Thank you, Father." She kissed the top of his head.

  "Who are you going shopping with?"

  "No one, but I'm meeting Mother for lunch. Good-bye." She headed for the door.

  "Marie, you know that I don't approve of your going out alone."

  "Father," she sighed, turning to face him, "I'm 23 years old. That's certainly old enough to go into town alone."

  "Not for a decent young woman. Where's your mother?"

  "At a committee meeting." She actually would rather go shopping with her mother than alone. Her mother had wonderful taste but still never tried to talk her out of some of the more outlandish items she wanted to try. They always had a good time together, and Marie had been disappointed to find her mother gone when she awoke.

  "Call Tom then," Mr. Tranton suggested.

  "He's playing golf. Really, Father, I'll be fine. There's nothing-"

  "Why don't I take you?"

  Marie whirled around to see Davis in the doorway. "Would you?" she breathed, thrilled at the prospect of spending the day in her beau's company. He usually worked on Saturday mornings.

  "If you like." He smiled at Jefferson. "Your father and I were going to discuss business this morning, but--"

  "But I think it's much more important for Davis to take you shopping. Go ahead, young man--we can put business off for a few hours."

  Marie hung onto Davis' arm as they walked out to his automobile. "Thank you for taking me. I haven't seen you since Tuesday!"

  "And you've missed me?"

  "Terribly." Her heart flipped over as he kissed her hand.

  He drove her to Boston’s finest dress shop, sitting down to smoke and read the newspaper as she tried on clothes. "What do you think?" she asked, turning slowly in front of him.

  "Very nice."

  "But do you really like it? I don't have anything this color, but I like it." It was called blue lotus and was the predominant color in an Egyptian motif. She and her mother had attended a fashion show two weeks ago, and she'd loved the Egyptian patterns on the mannequins who'd modeled them. But the mannequins were thin women, and although she was slender, she had too many curves to be fashionable. Binding her breasts helped a little, but it was hard to hide her hips and derriere. And she was rather petite, which didn’t help matters.

  Davis smiled at her in the ugly, shapeless dress. "It's very pretty. But how could it not be, with you wearing it."

  She blushed, pleased with his compliment. Deciding that the dress would be perfect with the scarab-shaped gold and turquoise choker Davis had given her for her birthday, she went to try on two other dresses. But now she liked the Egyptian pattern so much that the others didn't appeal to her. Maybe she could find a similar motif in a different color at another shop.

  Changing back into her own dress and straightening the seams on her stockings, she emerged with the blue lotus on her arm. "I'd like this, please," she told the saleslady, reaching into her purse.

  "I'll buy it for you, darling." Davis took out his wallet.

  "Thank you, but Father gave me some money."

  "Save it for something else." He laid some bills on the counter. "I love buying you pretty things."

  Her heart fluttered. "Thank you."

  He drove her to a café downtown. "My b
usiness with your father shouldn't take longer than two or three hours. You and I can have dinner afterwards and still have plenty of time to do something else. What would you like to do?"

  She started to reply, but the waiter arrived then with her salad and his roast beef. Picking up her fork, she told Davis, "Dancing. Can we go dancing?"

  "Mmm." He swallowed a bite of his meat. "Did you have any place special in mind?"

  "No. Any place we can dance." She toyed with her salad. "Since we've been seeing each other for a while now, can I . . . would it be all right for me to tell you . . . a secret? Something personal?"

  He gazed at her, intrigued. "What is it?"

  She dropped her own gaze. "The reason I like dancing so much is that I like you to hold me."

  He smiled at the pretty rosiness in her cheeks. Taking her hand, he leaned close to whisper, "One day--one day soon--I plan to arrange things so that I can hold you all night long."

  Her blush deepened. She understood his allusion, and although she wasn't ignorant of what the marriage bed involved, she had no firsthand experience at all. And Davis wasn't some adolescent boy trying to touch what he shouldn't; he was her Prince Charming, and he'd all but proposed marriage to her. Daringly she entwined her fingers with his and raised her eyes to smile into his.

  The evening was magic. Marie and Davis had dinner alone at the Locke-Ober Café, Boston's most exclusive restaurant, and then he took her dancing at a private club where she'd never been. It overlooked the Charles River, and when they left the club, they strolled along the river. It was a warm, clear April evening, a night right out of a romance novel. "Thank you, Davis," Marie said, squeezing his arm.

  "For what?"

  "For this evening. It's been perfect."

  "I think so too. Well, almost."

  "Almost?"

  He stopped, turning to face her. They were in the dappled shadows of early blossoms, and he drew her into his arms to kiss her gently.

  Marie's heart pounded as she kissed him back. His kisses were rare, so she savored each one, clinging to him and hoping that it would go on forever. But he ended this one all too soon, raising his head to gaze down into her sparkling eyes. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

  Those words were even rarer than his kisses; she'd heard them only twice before. "I love you too, Davis." Caught up in the evening's enchantment, she gazed up into his eyes, hoping he'd kiss her again.

  But Davis stepped back and turned to draw her arm through his, grinding his teeth. He wanted to throw her to the ground and tear off her clothes, and every time he was alone with this beautiful ingénue, his self-control took a tremendous beating. All that made him maintain it was the knowledge that her father would kill him if he laid a finger on her before marriage. He glanced at his watch; he'd get Marie home by midnight and then spend a couple of hours at Mae's establishment.

  "Now it is a perfect evening." Marie smiled. "Every night in Hollywood must be like this."

  He laughed. "What makes you think that?"

  "Hollywood is so romantic. And so exciting--dancing and parties and movie stars--we could have dinner with Pickford and Fairbanks and watch them film their pictures . . . I imagine there are always lights and music in the streets . . ."

  "You have quite an imagination."

  "Could we go there sometime? You and I?"

  He smiled down at her. "An island cruise would be much nicer, I'm sure. In fact, I think it would make a lovely honeymoon trip."

  If her heart did one more somersault today, it was going to fall right into her stomach.

  Marie and Davis spent the next day with her family, and he promised to take her out for dinner and dancing again next Saturday. She suspected that he might propose soon.

  "What do you think about a September wedding, Mother?" Marie asked as they had lunch alone together Friday.

  Mrs. Tranton looked up in surprise. "Has Davis proposed?"

  "No, of course not--you know that I would have come screaming to you right away." She smiled at her mother over her teacup.

  "Then why are you considering a September wedding?"

  "I think he'll propose soon. Don't you?"

  Mrs. Tranton managed to maintain a pensive expression for a few seconds but then smiled at her daughter. "Yes. And I think a September wedding would be perfect."

  They discussed bridesmaids and flowers and gardens. Marie would wear her mother's wedding gown, which had been carefully stored away for the last 28 years. Marie's grandmother had worn it as well, and when Marie took it off after her own wedding, it would go into storage for her daughter.

  Davis chose the next day to approach her father. "Come in, my boy," Jefferson Tranton told him, waving the young man into a large, comfortable chair opposite his own in his den. "You seemed rather anxious when you telephoned last night."

  "I have to confess that I was. Still am." He offered his employer a slight smile. "You and I have discussed this before, but never officially. I would like to do so now. Marie and I have been seeing each other for nearly eight months now, sir--"

  "Davis, my boy, no need to be so formal. I know your intentions. I even helped design them." He chuckled at his own joke. "You want to marry my daughter."

  "Yes, sir." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. "I bought this two weeks ago." He handed Jefferson a small box.

  The older man opened it. "Lovely, lovely." It was a large sapphire encircled by tiny diamonds. "I pay you a rather generous salary, eh?"

  "You're very generous indeed, sir. And Marie deserves the best."

  "Are you referring to the ring or yourself? No, no--just a joke, son." He returned the box to Davis. "My permission is a foregone conclusion. I'd dismiss you from the company if you didn't marry her." He chuckled again, taking two cigars from a box beside his chair and handing Davis one. "My plans certainly can't be a secret to you--or to anyone else, for that matter. Ever since my own son betrayed me . . ." He scowled at the cigar between his fingers, pained as always by the thought of his son. John had refused to let his father groom him for his company and had instead started a rival company. There was no real rivalry--John's company was too small and had too little capital--but the betrayal still hurt Jefferson deeply. "My only son turned his back on me," he continued, "leaving me in need of an heir. You have the stuff it takes to run a business, Davis. And I believe in keeping the business in the family, so when I made you vice president, it was with the assumption that I'd be grooming a son-in-law as well as the future president of the company." He rose, extending his hand. "You most certainly have my blessing, my boy. I'll give you my daughter's hand in marriage as soon as she and her mother can make all the arrangements--although that may take a bit longer than you might imagine, I'm afraid."

  "Thank you, sir--thank you very much." Davis shook his future father-in-law's hand.

  "I love my daughter dearly, but she can be quite a handful. A lot of romantic notions in her head, you know. That's why I keep such a tight rein on her, and I advise you to do the same. Of course, I'm sure that once she's married, she'll settle down and realize that life isn't like those picture shows and books that fill her mind with wild ideas."

  "I'm sure you're right, sir." Davis had no intention of letting her get away with the things her father did. Of course, she had the old man fooled, but Davis wasn't so easily deceived.

  Marie could tell that something was in the air that day. Her father and Davis kept exchanging looks over lunch, and they didn't shoo her and her mother from the table right after lunch so that they could discuss business. She suspected that Davis had something special planned for that evening, and when she caught her mother's glance over their teacups, she knew right away that her mother shared her suspicions.

  He took her to a French restaurant in the Back Bay, not far from her house. "Is your veal good?" he asked her after sampling his own.

  "Deliciou
s. And yours?"

  "Fine."

  He seemed preoccupied, so she just concentrated on enjoying her food, the candlelight, and the music. The restaurant was a perfect choice. She just hoped he was taking her dancing after dinner.

  "Ready for dessert?" Davis asked her as the waiter removed their plates.

  "Not now, thank you. I don't want to be too full for dancing. We are going dancing, aren't we?"

  "If you like. But I'd still like you to have some dessert." He reached into his breast pocket.

  "Maybe a bite of yours."

  "No. This is all for you." He held the box out to her.

  Her heart began to race. So this was the night! Wanting to prolong the moment as long as possible, she asked him, "What is it?"

  "Open it and see."

  She took it, glancing at his face as she raised the lid. The sapphire immediately caught the light, and she gasped. "This is beautiful!"

  He reached out to take her hand. "Marie, will you marry me?"

  She gazed at him for a moment before crying, "Yes!" and throwing her arms around his neck.

  Gently disengaging her arms, he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. "I love you, Marie."

  "I love you too."

  Marie walked and danced on air that evening. Davis had kissed her after putting the ring on her finger, and then he'd taken her to the same club they'd gone to the previous week. They ran into some friends of hers, and she introduced him as her betrothed. And he kissed her twice more--once as he helped her into his automobile when they left the club and again when he said goodnight to her. Now that they were betrothed, maybe he'd kiss her all the time.