Whispering Hearts Read online

  We started down the sidewalk.

  “So what career are you beginning?” he asked.

  “I’m a singer. But tomorrow, I start in a restaurant.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Last Diner.”

  “I know it. Have lunch there from time to time. I have a potential client who invests in Broadway shows.”

  I looked at him suspiciously again.

  “You’ll never hear me make a promise that’s not supported with substantial collateral.”

  I stopped at my stoop.

  “Substantial collateral? Well, what do you know,” I said. “I never left home after all.”

  He had a broad smile smeared across his face. I hadn’t looked before, but now I did. His shoes were clean and shiny, one of my father’s first tests of a young man’s quality.

  I started up the steps and turned at the doorway. “Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Morales,” I said. “Good luck on your career.”

  “Good luck on yours,” he called when I opened the door.

  I nodded. Yes. If I didn’t believe it before, I believed it now. I would need lots of that.

  Tons, in fact.

  And from the way I was introduced to New York, I knew that luck, like money, didn’t grow on trees.

  Thanks for that one, too, Daddy, I thought, and went into my new home, right now like someone condemned to it.

  THREE

  Even though I was exhausted, when I finally laid my head on the pillow, I remained with my eyes wide open for at least an hour. The sounds from the street did calm from what they were when I had first arrived, but for me they were still close to the noise of a holiday parade in Guildford. I couldn’t shut them out. I had to leave the window open a little, or else the stale odor in the room would also keep me up. I thought I might get some fresh flowers after I had given the whole apartment a good cleaning.

  I had left a light on in the bathroom, but neon lights from grand signs across the street flickered on the walls. They seemed strong enough to come right through them. That and the light from buildings outside poured through the sheer old cotton curtains and kept darkness at bay. Realizing I didn’t need it because of that, I rose and turned off the bathroom light. The room still seemed to be on fire.

  If Daddy were here, I thought as I returned to bed, he’d be ranting about the waste of electricity in those buildings. Why was it necessary to keep the lights on so brightly in empty offices stories high? Was everyone afraid of burglars, even at those heights? How long would it take me to get used to this?

  I decided I just had to get thicker curtains for my bedroom. These were too dodgy anyway and might fall apart after one wash. There were sure to be other expenses I had not anticipated. If I took too long learning how to be a waitress, I could run low on funds quickly, especially after having been robbed. This wasn’t going to be as easy peasy as I had convinced myself it would be. Another saying of my father’s flashed across my mind: “A fool spends no time at all convincing himself of something he knows in his heart to be untrue.”

  Oh, put a sock in it, Emma Corey, I told myself. Just imagine your father’s look of self-satisfaction if you went running home after only a day in New York. You’d have to get rid of mirrors because of the disappointment that had sunk into your face. Every time he had a chance, your father would remind you of the money you had wasted, not to mention time, which was the same thing to him.

  I won’t go home even for a short visit, I vowed, not until I’ve had some success that would quell his criticism.

  Who knew? When I returned to New York after that, I might have his blessing. He could even begin to brag, although the few times I had seen my father admit to being wrong, he looked like he would choke. His face would redden, and my mother would have to say, “Breathe, Arthur, breathe.”

  Still, the thought of all that happening someday filled me with encouragement.

  However, when I finally fell asleep, I didn’t sleep well. There were so many unexpected sounds to wake me periodically. People in other apartments in the building apparently either worked at night or were serious insomniacs. Sometimes, the footsteps were so loud I sat up, thinking someone had broken into my apartment. I was really looking forward to a roommate, hopefully someone used to all this and therefore someone who could reassure me at night, as well as ease the burden of expenses.

  Consequently, I almost overslept and leaped out of bed when I looked at the desk clock I had brought from England. It had been a gift from Mrs. Taylor on my fourteenth birthday. I could still hear her say, “Any daughter of Arthur Corey better know what time it is.” She had bought me one that matched the blue in Julia’s and my room. Right now its hands were clapping, and its face was screaming, Get up; get going. You wanted a new life. Start it!

  Not knowing my way around New York, I knew I had to leave myself more time to get to the restaurant. I rushed about, gulping only a glass of juice for breakfast. I wasn’t satisfied with the way I looked when I had left, but as Daddy would chant, “Priorities, priorities, when it comes to precious minutes.” As I hurried down the stairs, I thought, Now the apartment building is so quiet? Maybe the other tenants were all vampires.

  As soon as I saw a phone booth, I stopped to call home, because my phone wasn’t hooked up yet. I had left earlier as well to make the call, remembering we were five hours behind the U.K. Before I stepped in, I groaned with disappointment. Someone had vandalized the phone and cut the wire connecting the receiver.

  I started to panic when I couldn’t find a public phone that worked. One after another either had its cord cut or smelled so much like a dirty bathroom that I couldn’t imagine going in and closing the door behind me. And with all the noise from traffic and jackhammers, I thought I would surely have to shut myself in the booth and maybe put my finger in my other ear. There finally was a relatively clean working one on the same block as the restaurant. After I stepped in, I realized that I would need quite a few quarters, and I didn’t have that many, so I tried a collect call first.

  Because it was late June, Julia was off work and answered on the first ring, like someone sitting there beside it and waiting for it to chime. She accepted the charges. Of course, I had no intention of revealing what had happened to me my first night in New York if she asked how I was. I was determined to sound happy and excited.

  “Hello,” she said in a deep whisper.

  “It’s me, Julia, Emma.”

  “I know it’s you, you silly goose. Are you calling from New York?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She sighed so deeply that I thought it might blow out the phone like some light bulb.

  “Daddy’s going to know you called when he looks at the phone bill, and I’m going to get into trouble for accepting it,” she whined.

  It was hardly the response I was hoping to hear.

  “I’m sorry, Julia, but I wanted you all to know I had arrived safely. I thought you’d be concerned. I’ve moved into my apartment, but I don’t have a phone hooked up yet, and—”

  “Come home, Emma. You made your point. We’ll get Daddy to forgive you. Just come home. Please.”

  For a moment, I was taken aback by the way she was pleading. It was quite unlike her, especially when it came to telling me to do something. But I quickly recovered.

  “I have no intention of coming home. I just arrived, Julia. I haven’t even begun to try, nor have I begun my job yet. You’re the silly goose. Where’s Mummy?” I demanded.

  “She’s lying down. She refused to eat breakfast, even though I brought it to her. Daddy isn’t talking to either of us. He still blames us for what you’ve done. He thinks we knew for weeks and didn’t tell him. He called your announcement at dinner the night before another example of a family Pearl Harbor. Mummy couldn’t eat and cried all through dinner. Thank you, Emma Corey.”

  “Is she all right now?”

  “No,” Julia said, punching the word over a few thousand miles. “How can she be all right n
ow? Daddy’s still not talking to her. Aren’t you listening?”

  Julia was never one to sugarcoat anything, and in that way, she was far more like our father than I was.

  “He’s not right blaming her or you. I’ll send him a letter and tell him so.”

  “He won’t read it, Emma. He really will burn it first as soon as he sees the postmark.”

  “Then I’ll call him at the bank. He’ll have to speak to me.”

  “I wouldn’t make a wager on it, Emma. He’s probably already told his secretary, that nosy parker Mrs. Weeks, not to transfer any calls from you to him. He’s not hiding his anger from people, either. If anyone asks him what you are doing or planning to do, he says, ‘I wouldn’t know.’ That’s what he said to Mrs. Taylor already. If he could, he’d take an eraser to your memory right now, and I’d be an only child.”

  “I’ll call and give a different name.”

  “Brilliant. He’ll still hang up on you the moment he hears your voice unless you were calling from this house, and even then I couldn’t be sure. Meanwhile, Mummy’s upset, and it’s making her sick. Just come back.”

  “I can’t, Julia. At least, please tell her I’m safe. I have my apartment, and I’m starting work today, and soon I’ll have a phone with a telephone number, probably today. I left a note for the landlord to have that done. He’s very nice, by the way, sort of like Mr. McGregor. Remember? The shoe repairman?”

  “Telephone? Thanks for reminding me. This call is costing a fortune, I’m sure. Daddy will be even angrier that I spoke longer than a minute to you. Come home. You’re acting like a fool and a spoiled brat,” she said, and hung up.

  The shock of hearing the click and the dead sound threw a chill over me as cold as a pail of ice water. I had been looking forward to hearing my mother’s voice and how I would comfort her and assure her I would be fine. For a moment, I simply stood in the phone booth holding the receiver. Then a man in an overcoat and a wide-brim hat knocked on the glass so hard I thought he’d shatter the glass all over me.

  “Sorry,” I said, opening the door. He grunted. I stepped out quickly and passed him to hurry away. I seemed to be rushing away from everyone right after the moment I had arrived here. I thought I probably already looked like a New Yorker to anyone else who had just arrived. It wouldn’t have surprised me to have someone stop me to ask directions to somewhere in Manhattan.

  When I reached the entrance to the restaurant, I paused and sucked in my breath the way I would just before I swam underwater. Then I walked in and stood there gazing at the booths, tables, and counter filled with patrons. There was some music vaguely audible over the clang of dishes and conversations. The walls were crowded with pictures of what I imagined were celebrities who had eaten here, spaced in between large photographs of New York City scenes, including the East and Hudson Rivers, as well as the Statue of Liberty.

  By the authoritative manner in which Donald Manning came walking toward me the moment I entered the Last Diner, I knew it was he. He was a tall, lean, dark-brown-haired man with a thick dark-brown mustache. He was wearing a gray tie and a black sports jacket with charcoal-gray slacks. I didn’t think he was smiling so much as merely pressing his lips in tightly at the corners. I didn’t move or so much as grin, unsure of the greeting I was going to receive. I knew I wasn’t late, given the time I was told to appear the day after I had arrived, but I so desperately needed a bright welcome.

  “Emma Corey?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked me over and nodded. I was afraid he was going to tell me there was no job for me after all. I knew I looked younger than eighteen, but he finally smiled. I released the air nervously trapped in my lungs.

  “Billy gave me a good description. I can see why you won his heart,” he said, and leaned closer to add, “but he was always a softy for a pretty face.”

  “I’m not just another pretty face,” I said, sounding a bit too indignant. It was not a good way to meet your boss for the first time, but there it was again, that part of my father in me, self-pride not afraid to reveal itself.

  Donald Manning surprised me with a laugh. “No, I don’t imagine that’s all you are.” He stopped smiling. “Just know that New York is full of pretty faces. It’s no ticket to Broadway on its own, but I suspect Billy made you aware of that. You ever wait tables?”

  “Only at home,” I said. “My sole job’s been behind a perfume and cologne counter at a department store in Guildford. And singing at a pub, of course.”

  “Well, we’ll save your singing for your auditions. How’s your apartment?”

  “It’s fine, sir. Thank you for what you’ve done. I’ll pay you back.”

  He folded his arms across his narrow chest. “It wasn’t me. It was Billy Wollard who had all that set up for you. He sent me a money order, and I did what he asked. Not that I wouldn’t have done what he wanted anyway. He did me a lot of favors when we were classmates and studying music at Surrey.”

  “You studied at Surrey?”

  Just hearing the name of a school in Guildford brought me comfort.

  “I spent a few years in the military, ended up living in the U.K., and enrolled in some courses because I thought I’d be the next Louis Armstrong.”

  “So you play the trumpet?”

  I had learned a while back that singers and musicians are more comfortable in the company of other singers and musicians. It was as if we all shared a secret.

  “Haven’t for about ten years. It’s buried in a closet. I think I broke Billy’s heart more than my own when I gave it up. I got into the restaurant business over there first in London and then returned to sanity here.”

  He nudged me out of the way of some incoming customers and then took on a more somber look.

  “Now, I respect Billy’s opinion when it comes to you, but there are teachers like Billy all over this country who believe their protégés can make it on the Great White Way. I’ve had at least a dozen waiting tables here. None right now, however. They’re not the best employees. Their heads are in the clouds, and they don’t appreciate the work and what’s required of them. Billy thinks you will, says you come from a very respectable family where you were taught to be efficient, responsible, and you have a good work ethic. Since you’re the first he’s ever sent over here, I will take his word for it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but I could see he was all business, just as Mr. Abbot had warned.

  “I hope you won’t let him and me down,” he cautioned.

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Hmm. New York’s full of promises, but the people making them don’t always fulfill them. Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ll pay you a dollar over minimum, but you make most of your money with tips. For the first two weeks, you’ll train with Marge Arnold over there,” he said, nodding toward an attractive blond woman who flashed smiles at the customers at her table as if they were long-lost friends. She was taller than me, with a figure that was struggling to survive the addition of years.

  “Marge has no other ambition aside from dating and marrying a millionaire, so she’s the best to break you in. But I warn you, she’s serious about what she does and how it’s to be done. Just mimic her, and you’ll be fine. She’s doing me a favor by taking you under her wing.”

  “I understand,” I said. Like my father, I hated accepting too many favors. He always thought of it as debt accumulating severe interest.

  “It’s as simple as that,” he said, nodding and smiling at some customers coming into the restaurant before turning back to me. He looked serious again. “I know why you’re really here. I’ll let you go to any audition you want if you give me fair notice. You’ll be going to what they call open auditions until you get an agent.”

  “I understand.”

  “Yeah, well, they can take all morning. You’ll see the lines down the sidewalk sometimes. I’ve heard the complaints a thousand times from those employees trying to be the next hot item on Broadway, but you can make up the time by s
taying longer with your regular daily schedule. We’re open twenty-four hours, so you’ll always have time to compensate. You can even work on your day off. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call me Donald. I learned to hate the word ‘sir’ in the army. Go through the door to the kitchen, and take the door to your immediate left, where you’ll find a uniform that should fit. There’s a dozen or so hanging up there. There are lockers there, too. Just put your valuables in one with your clothes and take the key. Learn to lock everything up in New York. Thieves smell naivete.”

  “I’m afraid I learned that the hard way last night,” I said, and described the incident and what was stolen.

  He shook his head. “It happened to you that fast? Something of a record, I think. Sorry to hear it, but you can’t dwell on it. Think of it as you would an audition that didn’t pay off.”

  “I already have. You needn’t worry,” I said firmly.

  He smiled. “Maybe you’ll make it here. The Brits do have grit. They held Hitler back until we got into it.”

  He looked down at my feet. “Those shoes won’t work,” he said. “You’re going to be on your feet ten, twelve hours a day and walking to and from here and all over the city to audition for this and that. Ask Marge where to get the right shoes, and get them this afternoon either during your lunch hour or after work. I’ll have my bookkeeper, Mary Springfield, get your information today. She hasn’t smiled since she was slapped on the ass at birth, so don’t be put off by her manner of speaking. Her ‘good morning’ can bring you to tears. She doesn’t make mistakes, so I overlook it.

  “Oh,” he said as he was turning to leave me. “I have a name, a number for you to call, someone who wants to share the apartment and expenses with you. She was in here yesterday for breakfast and saw the posting. I think she fancies herself a dancer. Maybe you’ll drum up an act together. I’ll get it to you later.”

  “Thank you.”

  He waved at Marge Arnold and then pointed at me. She studied me a moment, nodded, and smiled at Mr. Manning.

  “Go to it,” he said. “Get the uniform first. She’ll do the rest, and she’ll let me know when you’re ready to wait tables, so be a fast learner. No real money until then.”