“Just passing a group of men sends you into a tizzy now?”
“My mother says navy men’ll seduce you without a second thought!”
Eleanor looked up at the street signs. They were on Third Avenue. They’d escaped the bulk of the crowds, but the city seemed heavier here, like it was pressing down around them. Everywhere she looked, metal and rock. It took her a moment to realize why she felt unmoored; then she noticed there was no horizon. For most of her life, when she was outside, she had been able to see the horizon.
“But I thought we were on Lexington,” Eleanor said. “We need to head east, since we’re going to Sixth Avenue.”
Rosie turned the map over. “If you say so.”
In fifteen minutes, Eleanor had a blister on her palm from her suitcase handle. They crossed a street and reached a highway. Beyond that, water.
“What on earth?”
“The river!” Rosie moaned. “That can’t be right!”
“But which one?”
“The East, knucklehead,” Rosie said.
Eleanor sat on her suitcase and consulted the map and groaned. “We made a wrong turn.”
“Well, don’t flip your lid.”
They went back in the other direction. Eleanor felt another blister forming on her heel. It was too hot in New York. The pavement reflected the heat back up so it wafted beneath her skirt, like she was baking in an oven. By the time they reached the diner again, sweat pooled between her legs, her thighs burning as they chafed together.
“We’re just blocks from Grand Central,” Eleanor said. “We can ask directions there.”
Rosie watched the passersby. “But that will let people know we’re from out of town.”
“We are from out of town. And you said—”
“Do you want to get mugged, Eleanor?”
She didn’t answer. Admitting defeat was like saying she didn’t belong. Wasn’t New York the benchmark for success? She refused to be the kind of person who didn’t like it.
Eleanor looked through the window of the diner.
“We’ll ask one of the navy boys.” She spoke loud to cover her doubt and opened the door before Rosie could stop her.
“Excuse me.” Eleanor approached the men and pitched her voice down and stilled her body, thinking if she didn’t advertise her femininity, they wouldn’t notice.
No such luck. Three men in olive drab swiveled around on their stools. One was still chewing.
“We’re new here,” she said, glancing at Rosie next to her. “Can one of you gentlemen please point us in the right direction?”
“Why don’t you take a seat right here?” the tallest man said, blond and gangly. He patted the seat next to him and winked at Rosie. “Have a milkshake.”
Eleanor would kill her if she said yes. “We’re actually on a schedule? On our way to a hotel, and have to check in by a certain time?”
The man in the middle stood up. He was stockier than the other men, less boyish. He had a wide face and a strong jaw, dark hair that curled like an Irishman’s, and startling blue eyes. He had the look of a gentleman, a man who would call a skirt a dress and a bow a thingummy.
“My name’s Tommy Murphy.” He wiped his hands on a napkin before he shook Eleanor’s. She noticed his shoulders moving beneath his uniform. He had calluses on his palms. His friends made coy noises that he ignored. “Where are you ladies going?”
Eleanor surveyed his friends. Should she give the address in front of them? Didn’t people say it was dangerous to do that?
Tommy pulled out his wallet and thumbed bills onto the counter. “C’mon, I’ll walk you.”
Her scruples dissolved along with their convenience; this young navy man could be as randy as the gossip said, but he wasn’t likely to leave them bleeding in an alley. She resisted the urge to turn to Rosie and raise her eyebrows to gloat.
“Thank you, sir,” Rosie said. “Or should we call you something more professional?”
“I’m a yeoman,” he said. “Tommy is fine.”
He didn’t look like the type to push papers. Her mother would approve of a young man who did his duty but made sure he came home at the end of it.
When they stepped out of the diner, they gave him the address and he offered his hand. “Which of you has the heavier suitcase?”
“Rosie,” Eleanor said. “She always overpacks.”
“Eleanor!”
But she held on to her own luggage; if Rosie knew how much she’d shoved into it, she’d know that Eleanor had no intention of returning on the Thursday train.
“I’m Eleanor O’Hanlon.” She nodded at Rosie. “This is my friend Rosie Hughes.”
“How nice to meet you.” Tommy spoke so politely that you could hear the training behind it, as if his mother were manipulating the words right out of him. “Where are you ladies from?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Hmm. So which one of you wants to be an actress?”
Eleanor’s heart flared. He would assume it was Rosie, because that was what people did.
“How did you know Eleanor wants to be an actress?” Rosie asked.
“Girls like you only come through here to visit family, get married, or audition for the shows.” He turned his head to check the traffic, and Eleanor caught a whiff of tobacco.
“Girls like us?” Rosie said, her practiced flirt coming out.
“Nice girls,” Tommy said, “with no idea what they’re doing.”
“That’s not true,” Eleanor said. “Women must come here for other reasons.”
“But you are auditioning for a musical, am I right?” He winked.
Eleanor shut her mouth and focused on her surroundings. They were coming up on a park that was about a city block long on each side and surrounded by tall buildings. When they crossed the street, they entered to cut through it.
“Don’t ever come here at night,” Tommy said.
“Is this Central Park?” Rosie asked. “Because I know we’re not supposed to go there at night.”
“Central Park is up farther,” Tommy said. “This is Bryant Park.”
It was nice of him not to point out how obvious this was; Eleanor hadn’t known its name, but even she knew this place wasn’t big enough to be the famous Central Park.
The Broadway theaters should have been just a block away. Eleanor felt their proximity. Would they be enormous or small? It would be lovely if they were small.