Timeless (27 page)

“How was the sleepover?” Mrs. Windsor asked in the melodic, old-fashioned tone of voice heard in black-and-white movies. She had auburn hair like Lily’s, but she wore it in shoulder-length waves and parted on the side. She was dressed in a long wool sweater over an ankle-length pleated skirt, with a long knotted string of pearls dangling from her neck.

“Oh, it was good fun,” Lily said breezily. “Who’s in the papers today, Daddy? Any of our friends?”

“Unfortunately, yes. John Singer Sargent has died of heart failure,” Mr. Windsor replied sadly.

“Oh no!” Lily cried. “That’s so awful. And to think he so
recently painted my portrait—I had no idea it was the last time I’d ever see him.…”

Michele’s jaw dropped. So the portrait of Lily Windsor hanging in her sitting room was by John Singer Sargent? He was one of the most famous American painters; Michele had seen his work in museums since she was a little girl. Michele wondered if Clara’s portrait was also by Sargent.

“We’ll be at the funeral, of course,” Mrs. Windsor told Lily.

As the brunch conversation drifted on, Michele sat back and listened with fascination to the talk of current events of eighty-five years earlier. Lily fidgeted with boredom when the topic shifted to politics, but Michele listened attentively. She learned that the current president was Calvin Coolidge, who Mr. and Mrs. Windsor seemed to adore for his tax cuts, and the first woman governor in the United States had just been elected in Wyoming. Mr. Windsor spoke worriedly about Italy’s new dictator, Benito Mussolini, and Michele shuddered at the name, recognizing him as one of the Axis villains of the upcoming World War II.

The conversation turned to books, and Mr. Windsor commented that Fitzgerald’s new tome,
The Great Gatsby
, wasn’t selling as well as his previous books. “Have you read it, girls?”

“I positively loathed it,” Mrs. Windsor answered, just as Lily gushed, “It’s simply swell!” Lily laughed, but Mrs. Windsor gave her an irritated look.

“Really, dear, I don’t understand how you could enjoy a trashy novel like that, all about silly flappers making a mockery of society. I trust you don’t behave that way when we’re not around?”

“No, Mother,” Lily said in a grudging tone that let Michele know they’d had many variations of this conversation before.

“That’s what I like to hear, that my daughter is a proper young lady. Speaking of which, the Vanderbilts and Whitneys are hosting an art gala next month and they’ve invited you to sing! Your father and I were thinking you could do Madame Butterfly’s aria.”

Lily’s face fell. “No, Mother, I don’t sing classical. You know that! Please, let me sing what I’m good at—”

“Those Harlem songs?” Mr. Windsor broke in. “Absolutely not, Lily. You know that would be highly inappropriate.”

“It’s only jazz. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Lily argued. “Just think, this would be the perfect opportunity for your society to see what a talent I am—”

“It is out of the question,” Mrs. Windsor said firmly. “You’ll perform an art song or nothing at all. Now, let’s change the subject.”

Lily gave Michele a despairing look.
What is it with these people?
Michele wondered. First Philip was denied the music he loved, and now Lily?

After brunch, Michele gestured for Lily to follow her outside. Once they were on the front steps and out of earshot of Lily’s parents and staff, Michele said, “I really do have to go now, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Do you promise?” Lily’s eyes were suddenly anxious. “And don’t forget, you need to bring me the sheet music for the songs.”

“I know. I’ll bring them with me next time. I’ll see you soon.” Michele gave Lily a hug and waited for her to run inside,
then clutched her key necklace.
Time, I’m ready for you to send me back now
.

Suddenly, the front gate swung open and an older gentleman entered the garden. Michele froze in her tracks.

He wore a business suit and leaned on a silver-topped cane, a briefcase hanging from his other arm. His gray hair was parted in the middle, and the dark eyes beneath his wiry spectacles looked oddly familiar to Michele. Then she realized who he was.

“Irving Henry,” she breathed. He looked like an aged version of the photo she had seen in the old Windsor album.

To her astonishment, Irving looked up. “Yes, miss?”

Michele covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You can see me?”

Irving’s fair skin seemed to turn a whole shade paler. He came closer, and as he peered at Michele, his eyes focused on the key around her neck. His body began to shake, his cane barely able to hold him upright.

“Are you okay?” Michele hurried forward to steady him, but as her hand grasped his arm, she felt a force push her back, and the familiar spinning of Time enveloped her. She looked at Irving Henry as she whirled away from him, and saw that he was staring at her, his mouth open in shock, and his eyes inexplicably brimming with tears.

“So you’ve decided to come home now?”

Michele looked up to find that she was back in 2010, nearly colliding with Annaleigh on the front steps.

“Oh,” she replied, catching her breath. She was so consumed with thoughts of Irving Henry that for a moment she could barely speak. “Um, I’ve—I was at Caissie’s. Didn’t I tell you I was going?”

“No,
you
didn’t,” Annaleigh said humorlessly. “But thankfully when I called the Harts, Caissie answered and told us you were there. Otherwise your grandparents would have called the police. Why do you insist on going out without telling us, and leaving your cell phone at home? Come in. Your grandparents want a word.”

“I’m really sorry,” Michele said, reluctantly following Annaleigh inside. Her grandparents were seated in the Grand Hall and they both looked up sharply at the sound of Annaleigh’s and Michele’s footsteps.

“She’s home,” Annaleigh announced.

“Thank you, Annaleigh. That will be all,” Dorothy said, dismissing her. She fixed Michele with a plaintive look, and Michele instantly felt a wave of shame for worrying them, especially after Dorothy had been kind to her the other night. Once Annaleigh had left, Walter laid into Michele.

“Young lady, what will it
take
for you to learn the rules here? It’s very simple: you
have
to let us know when you are leaving the house. There should be no need for poor Annaleigh to have to call and track you down. And for heaven’s sake, take your phone with you! One more occasion like this, and you’ll be grounded for a full month.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It won’t happen again.”
It better not
, she thought. She didn’t know what she would do if she had to be stuck in 2010 for a full month!

As soon as she was in her room, she grabbed her cell and called Caissie.

“Thank you,
thank you
for covering for me,” she said as soon as Caissie picked up. “You won’t believe where I was!”

Caissie listened with rapt attention as Michele told her all about her adventure with Lily. The only part of the story Michele left out was her meeting Irving Henry. She didn’t feel ready to talk about it yet. She was beginning to have an idea of who Irving Henry might be, and the thought was too incredible, too unthinkable, to share with anyone just yet.

When Michele had finished filling her in, Caissie said with an amazed laugh, “Wow. Only you could manage to find true love
and
launch a songwriting career in the past.”

“Well, it’s not for me. I mean, it’s not like I can claim the songs as my own here in our time,” Michele reminded her. “It’s the only way I can think of to help Philip.”

“It really is a great idea,” Caissie said. “So shouldn’t you be going back with the sheet music now?”

“Believe me, I want to, but I’m afraid to leave again so soon and risk getting into even more trouble with my grandparents. The last thing I can afford right now is to get grounded. I’ll go tomorrow right after school,” Michele decided. “Will you be my alibi again? I think I’ll tell my grandparents we’re working on some major, time-intensive project, to explain why I’m gone for these chunks of time.”

“Yeah, good plan,” Caissie agreed. “Good luck!”

Between classes the next day, as Michele was exchanging books at her locker, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Hey there.”

She turned to flash Ben Archer a quick grin. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Need any help with those?” He nodded at her books.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.” She shut her locker and fell into step beside Ben as they walked to their science class. Just as she was beginning to wonder what he wanted, she heard him clear his throat nervously.

“So, um … this Autumn Ball thing…,” he began.

Michele felt her face freeze. Oh no. Was he going to ask her on a date? How could she stomach going on a date with another guy when she was still so preoccupied with Philip? But how could she say no? She liked him as a friend. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings—

“I was thinking, you know, since you’re new and all, you might not have anyone to go with,” he continued, then reddened as he seemed to realize how that must have sounded. “I mean, not that you
shouldn’t
have other offers—”

Oh, boy. She’d almost forgotten about the lack of game possessed by most guys her age in 2010. Philip, with all his eloquence and elegance, had officially spoiled her. Though this conversation was starting to depress her, Michele forced a laugh, wanting to put Ben at ease. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

“Cool. Well, anyway, want to go with me? To the dance?”

Michele studied the floor, wondering how to respond.
You’re technically not with Philip anymore
, Michele reminded herself,
the thought causing her heart to constrict painfully.
You can’t stay away from other guys the rest of your life
. But it was tempting.

“Um, yeah,” Michele finally answered, giving him a smile. “Thanks, Ben. The only thing is, uh, I’m in a sort of complicated … long-distance situation with someone. But I’d love to go with you as friends, if that’s cool.”

Ben’s face fell for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “No worries. Going as friends is totally cool,” he said smoothly.

“Awesome.” Michele looked up to see that they’d reached their classroom. “Well, talk to you later, then. And … it should be fun.”

“For real.” Ben grinned. “See you later.”

As soon as she reached the Windsor Mansion and alerted Annaleigh that she’d be working on a school assignment at Caissie’s, Michele gathered the sheet music Philip had written and tucked it carefully into her shoulder bag. She picked up Lily’s composition book to go back to 1925, but a loose paper fell out of the book—a program from one of her Cotton Club gigs. As Michele bent down to retrieve it, she was sent flying backward.…

She returned to the Cotton Club to find that two weeks had passed since Lily had won the contest. Michele spotted her ensconced in the smoky scene, cozied up in a booth with the producer, Thomas. When Lily spotted Michele, she beamed and jumped up. “I’ll be right back,” she told Thomas, and turned quickly toward the women’s restroom. Michele followed her,
and once Lily had checked that no one else was in the bathroom, she let out a little squeal.