Magnolia. Diana Palmer
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John stared at the closed door with mingled reactions, the strongest of which was amusement. Claire was spirited, all right. It was a pity his heart was Diane’s, because in many ways, Claire was his match.
He didn’t really mind her playing around with the car, but only when he was with her, to protect her from her reckless nature. Besides, she had to learn to conform to his lifestyle. It wouldn’t hurt her to be tamed, he thought, just a little. But all the same, he had to fight the very strong impulse to follow her into her bedroom and continue the argument. He found her stimulating in a temper. He wondered if the passion in her could be physical as well as verbal. Perhaps one day he’d be driven to find out.
4
AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, CLAIRE FINALLY DECIDED that if her husband wanted her to become a social butterfly, it might be to her advantage to accommodate him.
She’d never been a social climber, but she did have acquaintances among Atlanta’s elite. The foremost of these was Mrs. Evelyn Paine, the wife of local railroad magnate Bruce Paine. She called upon her early one morning, cards in hand. But since Evelyn was in, there was no need to present her maid with the requisite two cards from a married woman, one for Evelyn, and one for her husband. Cards were only presented if the host or hostess was unavailable. And most cards carried an “at home” legend, stating when the holder would receive guests. Today was Evelyn’s “at home” day.
She was received in the small parlor and given coffee and delicate little cakes while Mrs. Paine sprawled on her satin-covered divan in an expensive and beautiful silk-and-lace wrapper. She and Claire had met through Claire’s uncle and found that they had quite a lot in common. Under other circumstances, they would probably have been close friends; Claire hadn’t sought friendship because of Evelyn’s higher social status. But Claire’s skill with a needle had caught Evelyn’s eye, and Claire had made any number of original gowns for her—and never used her relationship with Evelyn in any way to open doors for her. Now, however, she felt obliged to approach anyone who could help her make the best of her new place in society as the wife of a bank executive. John might not want her as a true wife, but she was going to show him that she was no shrinking Nellie, just the same. She was as good as any of his haughty friends, including the adored Diane!
“My dear, it’s such an unexpected pleasure to see you,” Evelyn drawled, smiling lazily. “I was about to call on you and see if you could design something very special for me for the Christmas ball at the governor’s mansion. You see how much time I’m giving you to create it; it’s almost three months away.”
“I daresay I can do something very special with so much time,” Claire promised.
“Then what can I do for you?”
Claire clutched her purse. “I want to join some societies,” she said at once. “I’ll work hard, and I’m not afraid to approach strangers for contributions. I’ll bake cakes and pies, man stalls at bazaars, do anything I’m asked within reason.”
Evelyn raised up on her elbow. “My dear, you sound positively frantic. May I ask the reason for this sudden flurry of ambition?”
“I want my husband to be proud of me,” she said simply.
“Well, that is a laudable goal!” Evelyn sat up, stretching. “I do know several people on committees, and they always need volunteers.” She smiled mischievously. “Count on me. I’ll make sure you get the proper introductions—and to the very best people.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn waved a languid hand. “No need for that. We women have to stick together.”
CLAIRE VERY QUICKLY found herself in demand. Her days were full from morning until late afternoon, baking for cake sales, sorting clothes and whatnots for the fall bazaars, and wrapping bandages with her church group to send to the military in the Philippines and China for Christmas. She kept the apartment spotlessly clean, as well, and even found time to help Mrs. Dobbs bake. She felt obliged to do that, since she was having to borrow her landlady’s woodstove to make her contributions to her various societies.
Mrs. Dobbs was impressed by the sort of women who began to call on Claire for tea. The names read like the roster of Atlanta society. The landlady began to dress more formally—and even to help Claire set up the tea tray, using her own best silver.
“I must say, Claire,” Mrs. Dobbs told her one afternoon, “I’m very impressed with the company you’ve been keeping. Imagine! Mrs. Bruce Paine right here in my house! Why, her family and her husband’s were founding families of Atlanta, and they keep company with people like the Astors and the Vanderbilts!”
“I’ve known Evelyn for several years,” Claire confided. “She’s a fine person, but for obvious reasons, I never tried to become a close friend.”
“Well, that’s all changed with your marriage, since Mr. Hawthorn is well-to-do and holds the position he does at the Peachtree City Bank.”
Claire didn’t exactly know that John was well-to-do, although he never seemed to lack money. He didn’t discuss finances with her. She did know that his position at the bank was an important one. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve tried so hard to find my way into the right social circles, so that I wouldn’t make him ashamed of me.”
“My dear,” Mrs. Dobbs said gently, “no one would be ashamed of such a hardworking, kind young woman.”
Claire flushed. Mrs. Dobbs always made her feel better. It was just as well that the starchy woman had been out of the house the day John and his business colleagues came home to find Claire in such a disreputable condition. “You’re the kind one, Mrs. Dobbs—to give me such freedom in your house.”
“It’s been my pleasure. I must tell you, I’ve enjoyed the little savories left over from your efforts. Where did you learn to cook so well?”
“From my uncle’s housekeeper,” she recalled. “She was a wonderful cook—of the ‘pinch of this and dab of that’ variety.”
“Now, I’m just the opposite. I can’t cook without my measures.” There was a knock at the door. “Ah, that will be your callers, Claire. I’ll let them in.”
Claire greeted Evelyn and her friends, Jane Corley and Emma Hawks, and introduced them to the flustered, beaming Mrs. Dobbs.
It made the landlady’s day. She went off to bring in the tea tray in an absolute delirium of pleasure.
Later, after tea and cakes, Evelyn brought out a sketch from the leather writing case she carried.
“I’m no artist, but this is what I thought I’d like you to make me for the ball, Claire,” she said, and handed the rough sketch to the younger woman. “What do you think?”
“Why, it’s lovely,” Claire said, nodding as she considered fabric and trim. “But this line, just here, won’t do. A peplum is going to make you look chubby around the hips, which you certainly are not,” she added with a grin.
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Why, you’re right. I never noticed.”
Claire took a pencil from the small porcelain bowl on the occasional table and erased the line. “And if we just add one flounce to the skirt, here…” She made another few strokes with the pencil, while Evelyn watched, amazed.
“There,” she said, finished, and handed the sketch back. “What do you think? In black, of course—with silver trim and black jet beads on the bodice, just here?”
Evelyn was wordless. “Exquisite,” she said finally. “Just exquisite.”
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Emma Hawkes exclaimed. “I buy all my clothes in Paris, but this is—this is extraordinary. How very talented you are, Claire!”
“Thank you,” Claire replied demurely.
“Yes, I want this,” Evelyn said immediately.