“I hear she’s out of town, too. So let’s go in and face the dragon.”
Peggy gave a slight, nervous laugh. “Well, she’s not really a dragon. In fact, she’s quite pretty—in a rather common way.”
The large entrance hall where the two women stood was a square, high-ceilinged room with black and white marble tiles on the floor. The oversized, circular velvet ottomans had been covered with chintz for the summer months, and huge pots of ferns and greenery in every available space gave the room the look of a conservatory.
Brushing past one of the fronds, Allison followed Peggy into the formal parlor, where the female guests were being entertained with discreet, soft music that was coming from the adjoining music room. The instrumentalists were barely visible beyond another display of palms and ferns. One of the maids was also busy offering crystal goblets filled with golden sherry to the guests. Most of the women took the offered refreshment, for they were not a part of the Prohibition movement.
“Now the party can begin,” Peggy announced, as she entered the room. “Allison and Senator Meadors have arrived.”
With her hand on Allison’s arm, Peggy guided her around the parlor. “I believe you know almost everyone here.…”
“Allison, how nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Rosetta. I’m so happy to see you, Mrs. Forbes. Letty …”
Allison made the complete journey, going almost full circle with her hostess, acknowledging old friends and acquaintances. The routine was ingrained by rote, requiring nothing more than a smile, a nod, and an appropriate few words here and there. And then Peggy stopped before a woman Allison had never seen before.
“May I present Mrs. Birmbaugh, the senator’s wife. Mrs. Birmbaugh, Mrs. Meadors.”
“How do you do?”
The woman smiled at Allison, and at that moment, Allison was reminded of Madrigal, the young mill worker who had been shipped north on the same train as Allison, Flood, and Rebecca and had wound up on Rad’s plantation in Kentucky for a time. But Madrigal had ridden away from Blue-grass Meadors years before, with Rad’s brother Glenn, and neither one had been heard from since.
Catching herself staring at the woman before her, Allison knew that she had to pull herself together. It was the red hair, of course. But the experience that afternoon with Araminta had done something to her emotions, causing her to conjure other faces from the past, even in this stranger before her.
“I already know a lot about you, Mrs. Meadors.”
Peggy quickly intervened. “Then why don’t you take this chair next to her, Allison? That way, you can get to know Mrs. Birmbaugh while I see how much longer it will be before dinner is served.”
There was nothing left for Allison to do but take the offered chair. She was aware of the interested glances and the undisguised feelings of sympathy directed her way for having been selected to keep the stranger in their midst from total ostracism.
But she also saw the grateful look on Maddie Birmbaugh’s face. And she felt a kinship with the woman, so alone in a room filled with people.
“I didn’t really want to come tonight,” Maddie whispered. “But the senator made me.”
“It’s always difficult, isn’t it, to walk into a room where you don’t know a soul.”
“That’s the Lord’s truth. I thought I was gonna be beside Tug—I mean, the senator—all evening, but we got separated the minute we stepped inside the door.”
“Well, it won’t be long before we’re all together again at the dining table.”
“That’s what’s bothering me the most. I wouldn’t say this to another living soul in this room except you, because I’ve already heard how nice and kind you are. But I’m scared to death of embarrassing Tug at dinner. What if I use the wrong fork or spoon?”
What a small worry, Allison thought, in comparison to the one she carried in her own heart that night. Yet, to Maddie, it was a major crisis.
“I understand we’ll be seated near each other,” Allison said. “So if you’re not certain, just watch me to see which one I pick up.”
“Oh, what a load off my mind. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
For Maddie, each bit of struggled conversation that Allison managed was welcomed. Caught up in her own self-consciousness, she didn’t seem to realize that Allison Meadors was sadly lacking that night in vivacity and wit, that she was merely going through the formality of casual conversation while her mind was elsewhere.
Peggy returned to the room at the same time that Tripp and the other men appeared from the library. “Dinner is ready,” she announced. Then she turned to her husband. “Tripp, take Allison into the dining room. And Rad, will you please escort Mrs. Birmbaugh? Senator Birmbaugh will be my dinner partner tonight.” In quick succession, she paired off the other men and women, separating the wives from their spouses.
The long table in the oversized dining room was covered in the finest white Irish linen, with Capo di Monte candelabra spaced at intervals. And midway on the table stood an extravagant centerpiece made of fresh-cut flowers to resemble a peacock with its tail feathers spread wide. The porcelain china was white with bands of cobalt blue and gold. As usual, Peggy Drake had managed to blend the decorations with her own costume, a blue silk dress with a small band of peacock feathers in her hair. And at each place, a small porcelain peacock held a snow-white place card with the name of a guest carefully penned in flowing script.
Like a child, Maddie Birmbaugh clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, how beautiful,” she said, surveying the table.
Rad smiled at his host as he seated her. “Mrs. Birmbaugh is right. Peggy has outdone herself tonight, Tripp.”
“In more ways than one,” Senator Drake responded in a dry manner.
With his wife and Maddie’s husband at one end of the table, it was up to Tripp, as host,
