On Monday morning, Betty arrived in the hotel lobby to telephone Jim so early that the valets were running soapy blades along the glass on the front doors and a chambermaid was dusting the furniture. She glanced at the clock above the check-in desk. It was even earlier in Chicago, but Betty knew Jim and Jean would be awake, feeding Laura and Frances breakfast. Betty slid into one of the telephone kiosks and took a deep inhalation as she lifted the receiver to call. Jim answered on the first ring.
“Any luck?” Betty asked.
The line was silent for a moment and her heart stopped.
“Jim? Jim? Are you there?”
“Yes, yes, I’m here.” His voice sounded distant and she pressed the earpiece against her head as if that would help the connection. “Betty, we’ve got it. I’ll be wiring the money to a Western Union office near your hotel on my way in to work. I’ll leave in about ten minutes.”
Betty’s eyes clouded with relieved tears. “Really? Did it all sell? It was enough?”
“Every single piece sold. You’re going to Berlin. Do you have a pen and paper to write down the address where you’ll need to go to receive the funds?”
Her entire body began to vibrate so violently that she could barely breathe as she grasped a pen from her purse and pulled a notepad with the hotel’s letterhead toward her. With trembling hands, she wrote down everything Jim told her. When she had all the details, she exhaled with relief. “Thank you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
His laugh sounded tinny over the line. “You did all the hard work, Betty. We’re mighty proud of you and will be following your adventures in the newspaper.”
The pale blond hairs on her arms rose with his words. She thanked him again before placing the receiver back on its hook and dancing across the hotel lobby, too euphoric to think. At the far end of the room, the elevator doors opened and Helen appeared. Tousled and puffy from sleep, she studied Betty with a pensive expression.
Betty raised her arms victoriously, and the exuberant look that spread across Helen’s face made it all real. After all of this, Betty was going to the Olympics again.
Helen exited the elevator and let out a loud whoop as she ran toward Betty to catch her in a hug that lifted her off her feet.
“I knew you could do it,” Helen cheered, spinning Betty around. The two ignored the surprised expressions of the hotel staff and laughed and laughed.
Finally, Helen lowered Betty to the ground. As she stepped away, Betty could have sworn Helen lingered and breathed in the smell of her hair, but it happened so quickly she couldn’t be sure. Before Betty could get a good look at her face, Helen spun away.
“Betty?”
Betty turned to find Louise staring back and forth between Helen and her, a look of wariness on her face.
“Louise,” she said breathlessly. Why did she feel guilty of something? She straightened the belt around her dress. “My brother-in-law was able to sell everything! I have enough money to go to Berlin.”
“That’s wonderful.” Louise gave a rare smile that was wide enough to reveal the gap between her two front teeth. “I received a telegram from home last night with good news too. I’m walking to Western Union now. Want to come?”
“Yes.” Betty slid an arm through Louise’s. “Helen, want to join us?”
Helen turned toward them, her face flushed. She blinked and shook her head, dropping her gaze to her feet. “Um, no. I’ll stay here. See you both later.” Before she had even finished talking, she was heading toward the elevator.
“See you soon.” Betty kept her voice cheery even though Louise was looking at her strangely. “We’ll be back to start packing for Berlin.”
When one of the valets opened the front door for them, Betty stepped aside and glanced back over her shoulder as Louise passed. Behind them, Helen was standing in the elevator, staring at her. Betty paused briefly at the intensity of Helen’s gaze before hurrying ahead to catch Louise.
45.
July 17, 1936
Aboard the S.S. Manhattan
AT SEA, NEW YORK CITY’S HEAT DISSIPATED, REPLACED by cool breezes and mild sunshine. Perfect training conditions. The only problem was that the track’s hard wooden planks began to hurt Helen’s legs. They offered no give, and each day that she ran on them, her legs hurt more and more. By her third morning at sea, when she awoke and stepped from her bunk, the soft skin of her inner shins felt tender. Each step across the small space of their cabin sent a stab of pain searing up her legs.
Betty yawned, rolling over in her bunk. The edge of her pillowcase had left an indented ridge along the smooth skin of her cheek, and the intimacy of the imperfection brought Helen up short. It was all she could do not to sink to her knees next to Betty and trace her finger along the ridge to her hairline.
“Are you heading up to the track already?” Betty asked.
“Yep. There’s always a good crew up there and I can hear the latest of what’s going on. Want to join me?” Helen pulled on her track shoes, wincing from the pain in her legs.
“Hmm, eventually,” Betty said with a languorous sigh, and Helen hid her disappointment by tying her laces. Since boarding the Manhattan, instead of running, Betty would find a chair on the Promenade Deck and hold court as if she were minor royalty, and in a way, she was, at least as far as the athletes were concerned. The rowers, the equestrians, the swimmers, they couldn’t get enough of her. Yes, the weather had been perfect so far, but even without the sun, Betty appeared to glow in the attention of her admirers. Her long, smooth
