Page 16 of Stolen Time
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” I said, then went on, “That is, if you didn’t already have plans.”
He chuckled then, a warm, rich sound. His voice was just as handsome as his face, not too deep, but resonant and friendly, the kind of voice I could imagine as a radio announcer or something. That was one thing I’d noticed about the people I’d met so far in Jerome — which, I had to admit, wasn’t many. They all sounded like regular people, not the stylized voices I’d heard in old black-and-white movies. Had all that been an affectation?
Maybe. I reminded myself that I was in 1926, and I vaguely recalled that movies back then didn’t even have people talking at all, just those funny little frames in between the action thatspelled out what the actors were saying. So maybe they started to sound odd later on when movies had real talking in them. Not being a scholar of vintage cinema, I couldn’t even begin to guess.
“No plans,” Seth said. “Sometimes I have dinner with my family on Sunday nights, but they understood that today I was a little busy. Otherwise, I’ll eat at home, or maybe get something from the English Kitchen or one of the other restaurants here if my cupboard is bare.”
From the way he talked, it sure sounded as if he led a pretty solitary life. It also seemed very obvious that he was alone, that he wasn’t married or even engaged or seeing someone.
Did people date in the 1920s?
Of course they did,I thought.They probably called it “courting,” but they still went to the movies and on picnics and maybe out to eat.
And they danced, too, something I’d never been particularly good at. I had to hope Seth wouldn’t ask me to go dancing with him — assuming there was even a place for that sort of entertainment around here — because my Charleston was pretty rusty.
It was a silly thought. He was only helping out someone he’d literally stumbled over. We didn’t have any real connection, and I needed to remind myself of that, no matter how good-looking he might be.
All the same, I had a hard time banishing the mental image of me in a gorgeous beaded flapper gown while he wore a tuxedo…something I wasn’t sure even existed in Jerome…and he dipped me in a pretty good imitation of Fred and Ginger doing the tango.
When did Fred Astaire’s film career begin, anyway?
Those crazy thoughts flew right out the window, though, as Seth paused in front of a big Victorian house painted pale blue with darker blue and white accents, and said, “Here we are.”
It was a very pretty home, large without being imposing, with red and white roses blooming in front of the expansive front porch and stained-glass windows flanking the front door and also ornamenting the turret off to one side. In fact, I thought I recognized the place, since I’d walked along this street a few times while getting acquainted with the town. In my day, the house was sage green with dark green and rusty red accents, but still, the overall shape of it was the same.
As pretty as it was, though, I couldn’t ignore the quiver of unease in my stomach. Everyone I’d met so far had been extremely nice, but that didn’t change the fact that Seth was going to leave me here with a couple of strangers.
We went up the steps and didn’t even need to knock, because the front door opened as soon as we set foot on the porch.
A woman who looked as though she was probably in her mid-fifties stepped out and beamed at us. Even I knew her high-piled blonde hair — with some silver strands showing here and there — wouldn’t have been the style in this era, although her dark plum drop-waist dress and black kid shoes seemed pretty of the moment.
“This must be Miss Rowe!” she exclaimed, coming forward so she could take my hands in hers and give them a hearty squeeze. “It is so good to meet you.”
“Thank you for taking me in like this — ”I began, but she only released her grip on me so she could wave away my comment with her free right hand.
“Oh, it’s nothing, child. I was just so sorry to hear of your predicament. I’m Ruth McAllister, and soon you’ll meet my husband Timothy. I hope Seth told you that we have plenty of room, so it’ll be a pleasure to have you here.”
“He did,” I said, even as his mouth quirked and his dancing blue eyes told me that he knew his aunt — or maybe she was really a cousin, and only referred to the other way becauseof the difference in hers and Seth’s ages — could be a little overwhelming. “But still, it has to be something of an imposition to have a stranger in your house.”
“Not at all,” she replied at once. “But where are my manners? Come inside, the both of you.”
She ushered us into a foyer that was decorated with fussy-looking antiques. No, I told myself, they weren’t antiques, just heavy Victorian-style furniture, something that looked antique to my eyes even though it was probably only twenty or so years old at that point.
“Did Seth tell you he was coming back for dinner?” Ruth went on, and I nodded.
“Yes.”
I’d almost added that it was kind of her to invite him over, but then I wondered if she would read more into my relief at his being there for dinner than I wanted her to.
Or maybe I was overthinking the whole thing.
She didn’t appear to notice my carefully neutral response, because she took the suitcase from Seth, saying, “Thank you for walking Miss Rowe over here, Seth. We’ll want to get her settled, but you can come back at six, as we already discussed.”
The dismissal was clear, and it was obvious enough that Seth didn’t intend to argue. “Sure.” Then he paused and looked over at me. “I’ll see you this evening, Miss Rowe.”
I inclined my head. “I’ll see you then.”
After all, what was I supposed to say?