Burrows had been at the bar, talking to the bartender, and Henry had walked past him, hoping to be noticed. LeRoy had been convinced their plan would work because Henry’s and Gaynor’s builds and black hair had been similar enough for someone who hadn’t known Gaynor that well to believe Henry was him. Burrows hadn’t noticed, though, because he’d been talking to a little blonde.
Burrows had left after that dance, and that was when he’d noticed Betty sitting at the bar. He’d seen her dancing before then and recognized an uncanny likeness to the sea nymph from Seattle, but it hadn’t been until she’d approached him that he’d known it was her for sure.
What he still wasn’t sure about was what to do about it. The lights clicked off in the house and he turned, walked back down the hill, along the road, and then to the house. As he’d known, the front door was locked. The back one, along with all the windows, was boarded up.
Returning to the front door, he pulled out his pocketknife and used it to pick the lock. The jacket he’d left on the stairs was of little concern, except that the keys for the house were in one of its pockets. The door to the storage room was unlocked, and that was a concern, so he made his way through the house, down to the basement, and into the tunnel that would lead back to the Rooster’s Nest. The entire way, his thoughts were on Betty, and the other woman, and just how deeply involved they were in all this.
Betty lay in bed that night, trying to make sense of all that had happened. She’d broken so many rules she couldn’t even count them. That wasn’t like her. She’d not only snuck into a dark tunnel, alone with him, she’d danced there, and kissed him again.
Kissed him in ways she’d never imagined. Her heart was still thudding over that. It was all for her sisters, to make sure their father didn’t find out about them sneaking out.
Except, she was having a hard time believing that. If it had been another man, other than Henry... Henry Randall. He was so handsome, just looking at him made her heart throb, and he was so mysterious, an odd sense of excitement filled her.
She rolled onto her side. What could she do to help him? She didn’t know anything about Rex Gaynor or the other man he mentioned. Didn’t know anything about anything, but she had to help him. Had to do anything she could to keep her father from finding out about their nightly escapes.
The thing she could not do again was kiss Henry.
Or dance with him. That made her forget everything, and the next thing she knew, they were kissing. That had happened twice now, and could not happen again. She would have to keep her wits about her at all times.
No more sneaking into the storage room and into that tunnel, either.
That had been thrilling, too, sneaking away, hiding.
Everything about him was thrilling, and that filled her with the most unique sensations.
She flipped onto her back, disgusted with herself. She was the oldest. The responsible and sensible one. The one to set a good example. If that had been Patsy or Jane, she wouldn’t allow them to go back out, not until they’d learned their lesson.
Patsy or Jane couldn’t find out about how she’d done that. Not ever.
No one could.
She was going to have to make sure her sisters were being extra careful, too, without them knowing about Henry. Or what he knew. She had to find out how he’d discovered who they were, and make sure that didn’t happen again, too.
It was going to be hard to not tell Patsy what she’d learned about Rex Gaynor. Patsy was nearly obsessed with the story, convinced that becoming a reporter was her ticket out of their father’s house.
Betty didn’t want to shatter her sister’s dream, so she never said much about it to Patsy, but deep down, she knew Father would never allow one of his daughters to get away that easy. Marriage was the only way he’d let any of them out of the house. Marriage to a rich man. He wanted his daughters to marry men with money. Lots of it. So they would no longer want his. He cared more about his money than he did any of them.
But she didn’t care about his money at all. It was how he thought that money was the most important aspect when it came to any of his daughters getting married. That their happiness meant nothing.
Father was sitting at the dining room table, reading the morning paper and waiting for breakfast to be served, when Betty entered the room the following morning. She wished him a good morning while making her way into the kitchen.
Patsy and Jane were already there, collecting items to carry into the dining room to set the table. Betty crossed the room and lifted out three serving platters for the sausage, eggs, and potatoes that Mother was cooking.
Other than the obligatory good-mornings to each other, there was no talking while breakfast was cooked, served, and eaten. Father’s rules again.
As she sat there, hearing only the occasional clink of silverware against a plate, she once again thought how her house would be nothing like this. When she was married and had her own home, it wouldn’t be silent. She’d encourage conversations and laughter at every meal because that was what she wanted most in her life, laughter, happiness. For everyone to be happy. That was all she’d ever wanted, which was the only reason she had agreed to help Henry. Not because she liked him.
Later that night, her sister Patsy was very happy that Betty and Jane were entering the Rooster’s Nest without her. Lane had met Patsy near the
