The Lost Hearts (2 page)

Alexis scoffed loudly, but Lawrence silenced her rebellion with a flash of his eyes.  “Th
ank you, Harry.  I know you are a fine observer of museum protocol.  Why don’t we set up a meeting for Monday afternoon in which we will review the details of the project’s status, and evaluate each member’s respective contribution?  I’ve no doubt you will have much to share with us.” 

Har
ry practically shriveled in his over-sized suit.  Alexis was tempted to grin with child-like glee, but she denied herself the pleasure for the sake of decorum.

Lawrence’s face was stone, and he waved his hand for her attention.  “Alexis, may I speak with you in my office?” 

Harry caught her gaze, and he sniffed with satisfaction. 

“See you Monday, then,” Alexis jabbed as she passed the corpulent man. 

Inside the office, Alexis collapsed into an armchair facing her father’s massive mahogany desk.  Still simmering from the heated exchange with Harry, she groaned aloud, anticipating the reward of her father’s empathy.  Lawrence was silent, and he walked solemnly to his high-backed leather chair.  He let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Alexis,” he said finally, his mouth crimping beneath his mustache as he searched for words.  “You must be careful here.”

Alexis coughed.  She felt nailed to the chair, pummeled by this unexpected withdrawal.  “What…?” she sputtered.  Angry defiance bubbled and rose in her throat.  She couldn’t help herself.  “Father, you know what a joke he is.  I can’t believe you’re taking his side!  I did nothing but tell God’s honest truth to that reporter, who, by the way, has interviewed every other person on the board without it kicking up such a fuss.”

Lawrence pinched the frames of his glasses, and pulled them slowly down his nose.  He rubbed the reddened corners of his eyes.  “Alex
is, you and I both know what Harry is.  He’s a lot of hot air.  And he takes himself too seriously.  But we also know that his pockets are deep, and his connections are vast.  You’re living in a dream world, my dear, if you think this museum survives solely on its grand accomplishments.  We need him.  For terrible reasons, of course.  But we do.”

Alexis puffed up her chest.  “But why should I have to bend over, or step back, or hide behind a curtain every time that little man feels threatened by me?”

“Because Alexis.  It’s just how it is.”  Lawrence leaned back in his chair.  “How many women do you see working around here that aren’t answering phones for a man?  How many?”

“None.”

“That’s right, dear.  Not because that’s all they can do, or because that’s their natural work.  But that’s the world we live in.  They’re just not ready for women to participate the way you do, and it makes some of them very uncomfortable that you’re challenging the status quo.  Do you understand that?”

Alexis clenched her jaw and stared hard at her hands.  “Yes,” she said through her teeth.

“Alexis,” Lawrence said, his tone suddenly soft.  Alexis met his gaze, and she saw that his blue eyes had opened themselves to her.  “You know how proud I am of you.  You know I am aware of the wonderful things that you’ve done.”  He laughed warmly.  “I don’t just mean the pride of a parent who’s seen his child excel marvelously in life.  I’m speaking to you as a colleague.  Your work here is exceptional, and though I’m ashamed to say we need the likes of Harry Bates, we need you, too.  That’s why you must be careful.  Because we live in the world we live in, but we need more people like you to change it.”

Alexis chewed at her lip, unconvinced.  She felt the wound of every past aggression open up like a festering gash, and it claime
d every ounce of her restraint to muffle the sense of injustice. 

“I beg you, Alexis.  We’re on the verge of achieving something wonderful here.  Please
let this go.  Please play along so that you can you make this project work.”

Alexis nodded.  She wanted to swing her arms wildly in a fight.  But she knew her father s
poke from truth and that she had reality to contend with.  “Yes, father,” she said finally, on a sigh of dramatic resignation.

“Why don’t you go home?  Take a breather.  Marion told me she was preparing eggplant parmesan tonight.  Your favorite.  Then maybe you can go out for a change.  Enjoy yourself with friends.
Or, er, Philip.” 

Alexis eyed him with quiet cynicism.
  Philip, yes.  Friends, no.  Her father ought to know by now that she didn’t exactly have the social life he was dreaming up for her.  It was Friday evening, and she knew that young women everywhere were looking into mirrors, powdering their noses, applying fashionable red lipstick.  She was perhaps one of the few who were not joined by friends giddy with anticipation of a dance, music, and romance.  She had never been able to decide if this was her own personal choice, or just another symptom of the social rejection that had become a regular phenomenon in her life.

Alexis moved to her father behind the desk, bent low and kissed the shiny, bald spot of his head.  “I’ll see you later, then,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

She paused by the women’s restroom just before the lobby of the museum and pushed through the heavy wooden door.  Alexis stood before the elongated mirror above an immaculate row of porcelain sinks.  She rested her hands against the rise of the basin and looked squarely at her reflection in the mirror.  Sometimes she felt the strange sensation that the image could not possibly be her own.

Alexis could not quite perceive her beauty.  Though she saw with her eyes the small heart-shaped face beneath a crimson crown of natural curls, the sapphire blue that sparkled beneath heavy
-lashed lids, she did not know how to see them through the eyes of others.  She had never had the female companionship to affirm her beauty, nor had she paid much attention to the utterances of young men.  Alexis watched herself carefully.  She traced the shadow along her high cheek bones, and over the fullness of her pink mouth.   

The bathroom door swung open and a soft round face poked through the frame.  “Ms. Scott?”  Alexis and the young woman blushed in unison.  “I’m sorry to bother you in here, but there’s a telephone call for you.  She said she’s a cousin.  Ms. Bennington.” 

“Thank you, Deborah,” Alexis said quickly, embarrassed to be caught eyeing her reflection so unabashedly. 

She followed
Deborah to the reception desk where the heavy receiver of the telephone lay beckoning.
rr r fjdkla;
  A shadow of skepticism passed over her face.  Elisabeth Bennington had never pretended very hard to like Alexis.  They’d been playmates as children, but on the cusp of adolescence, the two had traveled very different paths. 

Elisabeth was a famous beauty among her many social circles, and was often compared to the sultry blonde pinup girls that young men coveted between the pages of glossy magazines.  She loved attention, and
, being clever with the young men, managed to always satisfy her hunger to be watched and admired.  Alexis sniffed with revulsion as she imagined the rehearsed seductive pout Elizabeth flashed whenever she had the chance, those flaming, full, red lips beneath the palest, translucent eyes. 
Sheep in wolf’s clothing
, Alexis had always thought.

“Hello,” she answered cautiously, “this is Alexis.”

“Oh, yes, Alexis,” a cool voice responded.  “It’s Elisabeth.  I’m glad I caught you.  I’m calling…well, I’m calling to see if you would like to join me and some friends tonight.  We’re meeting at the dance hall on Chauncy Street.  Would you care to come?”

Alexis looped
the telephone cord around her finger and bit her lip.  Suddenly nervous, she stammered into the receiver.  “I…uh...”  She could not think why Elisabeth would bother to invite her along.  She never had before, not that Alexis would be interested.  Her mind searched frantically for an excuse.  “You know I would really like to come, but I’m in the middle of some very important research for the museum.  Father’s expecting me to brief him soon on the work I’ve done.” 

A silent pause followed.  “Ah,” Elisabeth said finally with a clip, “research.  You’ve practically given up your life just to work.  I’ve wondered when you would stop and join us for some fun in the real world.”  Alex
is could easily discern the sarcasm in her cousin’s tone.  She knew Elisabeth found Alexis’ academic pursuits to be ridiculous.  Better to be seen, known, and coveted in Boston and ultimately find a rich, handsome husband. 

Elisabeth continued, “We received an invitation to the Talbot’s
Autumn party.  This will be Philip’s chance to debut the new woman in his life, eh?  I knew he would win you over in the end.”  Elisabeth excelled in dressing up criticism with flowery laughter, but Alexis had no trouble apprehending the malice beneath.  “Though, everyone else was almost positively certain you would never settle down.  End up an old spinster.” 

A lump rose in Alexis’ throat.  Ever since she’d begun seeing Philip exclusively she felt her greatest critics reveled in some secret triumph. 
More food for gossip
, Alexis thought.  After completing her secondary studies with exceptional success, she’d relentlessly pursued higher education despite the objections of her extended family and many social acquaintances.  It seemed to offend some in their circle that a young woman share the intellectual spaces designated for ambitious young men.  Elisabeth had always belonged to this pool of critics, never missing an occasion to pick and feast on the details of Alexis’ personal life like a vulture. 
Maybe she’s invited me along tonight to gloat with her silly friends
, she thought. 

She felt her chest rise with indignation.  “No one could ever settle as well as you will.  One day.  When the right one comes along?”  Alexis heard a sharp intake of breath.  “I do hope you have a nice time tonight,” she continued through her teeth.  “Thanks for calling.  Will I see you at the party?”

A hiccup of laughter clapped the receiver.  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Alexis.  You know that.”

***

Alexis grasped the trolley handle to steady herself as she watched the city unravel into a peaceful suburban landscape.  An attractive young man in a tweed suit offered his seat to her, theatrically taking her elbow to assist her.  Alexis rewarded him with a generous smile.  But her smile disappeared as her thoughts regressed.  Upset by the apparent purpose of her cousin’s invitation, she was disturbed even more by the reaction her connection to Philip Talbot had stirred.  If her relationship was a mean-spirited triumph for others, did that not mean it was somehow a loss for her?  She had anticipated nothing short of having it all: the good fortune of fulfilling her potential and passion, and sharing her life with a man who accepted her as she was.  Yet, if someone like Elisabeth Bennington rejoiced with such malevolence, she couldn’t help but doubt her own perspective.  Ruffled by this new thought, she shook her head as though to shake the idea away from her.

The trolley slowed to a stop at a quiet crossroads, and Alexis stood to descend.  She looked back and waved a gloved hand at the young man who watched her with a hopeful smile.  When she reached the foot of the Scott’s property, she took a moment to admire the green expanse of woods where the cottage rose humbly from behind noble columns of ancient willow trees.  Her home had never failed to offer her total sanctuary.  Any problem, trivial or deep, left her at these steps. 

“Is that you, dear?” Marion’s voice warbled through the hallway and greeted Alexis as she hung her satchel. 

“Hello Marion,” Alexis called back as she unconsciously followed the tantalizing aroma wafting from the k
itchen.  She found a plump woman running a wash cloth over the Spanish tiles of the kitchen.  She leaned in to kiss her soft feathery cheek. 

Marion had moved in with the Scotts when Alexis was just shy of ten.  She remember
ed the first time she met her.  The woman had swallowed her into a deep, trembling embrace.  “She’s not here to replace your mother, Alexis,” Lawrence had said.  “She’s here to help us because we need her.  And she needs us, too.”

Marion had immigrated to Boston just a year before, with no money, and no evidence of family
, save for a few preciously-guarded photos.  Alexis wouldn’t learn the heartbreaking details of her story until many years later.  By then, Marion was as much a Scott as she or her father, and they stood close by each other.  A small, loving army.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Marion’s fluted Irish accent was always music to Alexis, and she smiled tenderly as she let out a sigh.

“Can you guess?” she teased, sinking into a wooden kitchen chair.

Marion revealed a charming row of flat white teeth.  Alexis knew she understood, as she always did, when she arrived home and sighed.  “Let me try.”  Marion stroked her chin.  “Did it involve a sh
ort, beastly man named Harry Bates?”

“Yes, indeed.”  Alexis flared her nostrils for dramatic effect.  “Same old story, Marion.  It tires me out.”

“Well, pay no attention to that man.  Your father’s never had a kind word to say about him, not even when you were a little girl.  He’s been a burden we must all live with.  I’m afraid you make an easy target, though, hey?”  Marion stroked the curls at Alexis’ brow.  “Never you mind, girl.  You’ve done wonderful by us, you know that?  Your father is proud.  And your mother would be beside herself if she could see what a lovely young woman you’ve become.”