Lily dropped the sleeve as if it was a hot coal. “Sorry, I was looking for my costume…”
“In here? Why would it be in here?” Delilah took a step inside and Lily stepped back against the wall, inching toward the doorway.
Gone was the poised and charming Delilah that audiences and the general public saw. This Delilah was angry, nervous. She’d changed over the past months since Lily had been singing backup for her and not for the better. Was it her fame turning her ugly, or was something else going on in her life? Lily suspected the latter. Delilah had been acting very jittery the past three nights that they’d been living on the ship setting things up and rehearsing and Lily thought she knew why.
Lily cleared her throat. “Umm… sometimes the laundry puts them on the wrong rack. Oh, and Mr. Oxley was looking for you.”
Annoyance flitted across Delilah’s face. “He was? When was that?”
“Just a few minutes ago.” Lily backed toward the door. “It seemed urgent.”
“Yes, well, you’d do best not to come in here without permission and keep your nose out of my business.” Delilah stepped closer. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed someone sneaking out of your room. I don’t think Mr. Oxley or Mr. Hendricks would approve of what you’ve been up to. You’d be smart to keep your nose clean and mind your own business.”
“Yes, of course.” Lily practically ran from the room.
She bristled at the threat, but arguing with Delilah wouldn’t be good for her career. It was frowned upon for the performers to get too friendly. Especially between the men and women. Affairs weren’t tolerated because they could cause a lot of problems. But it wasn’t Lily who had been sneaking out, it was her roommate, Joy Morgan. Not that she would ever tell; she wasn’t a tattletale like Delilah. And if she was going to tell on anyone, she’d tell Oxley how she’d seen Delilah in a very intimate meeting with that handsome gambler, Max something-or-other. Lily couldn’t say she blamed Delilah—Max was a lot better looking than Oxley. Then again, Oxley was a lot better for Delilah’s career. Was that why she’d taken up with him? Is that what one had to do in order to get ahead?
Lily considered this as she shuffled down the hallway, careful to avoid the off-limits storage room, lest she get yelled at by Oxley too. Could she feign interest in someone like the gangly Oxley in order to advance her rise to stardom? Lily wasn’t sure. Straightening her shoulders, she entered the dressing room she shared with Joy and started to warm up for the night’s singing.
Chapter Four
Nora wore a pink beaded cocktail dress that floated around her calves in whips of tulle to dinner. She was lucky that she had nice calves with these new shorter hemlines. Nora was determined to be trendy, even if some of the new fashions were a bit awkward to wear; like those cloche hats that kept falling down and covering her eyes, and the drop waists that she kept catching herself trying to pull up. And don’t even get her started on the cigarette holders—all the movie stars looked so elegant with them but the cigarettes made Nora cough. Those things couldn’t be good for your health, could they? But she did it all anyway. She wanted to do her part to be modern and help bring women forward.
Aunt Julia looked classy in an elegant peacock-blue dress that fell to her ankles. She accentuated the plain dress with strings of waist-length opalescent beads. At her age, she wasn’t very interested in the latest fashions, but still made an attempt to look nice.
The dining room glowed with chandelier lighting. Outside it was dark, but lights could be seen on the riverbanks as the ship floated past various towns. The clank of dinnerware and the hum of conversation mingled with the smells of dinner that permeated the air.
“Oh look! There’s Martha!” Aunt Julia tugged Nora in the direction of the woman they’d met earlier in the lounge. She was seated at a table with her son.
“Hello, nice to see you again. Isn’t this lovely?” Julia gestured to the room as members of a small band took their places and started to play soft music.
“Yes, it is.” Martha appeared a lot happier now as she turned to her son. “This is my son Beauregard. Beau, this is Nora and Julia Marsh.”
“Lovely to meet you.” Julia frowned. “But where is your lovely wife?”
“She’s not feeling well.” Martha looked as if she’d been presented with the most wonderful gift. “So it will be just Beau and me tonight.”
“That sounds lovely, but I hope it’s nothing serious,” Nora said.
Martha glanced at Beau who fiddled with his fork. “Just a cold. I told her to rest so it didn’t get worse.”
“Good then.” Aunt Julia glanced around the room. It was filling up with people taking their seats, which had been assigned so that guests could get to know one another. “Well I suppose we should find our table. Enjoy dinner.”
Nora and Julia had found notes in their cabin assigning them to table eight. As Nora scanned the room, Aunt Julia whispered in her ear, “Did you see the look on Martha’s face? She was in her glory to have Beau all to herself.”
“I did notice that. Though Beau didn’t seem quite so happy. Anyway, I suppose that explains why the wife ran out the side door earlier. Perhaps she became suddenly indisposed.”
Aunt Julia frowned. “Maybe.”
Nora spotted their table over by the windows. “There’s our table over there.” She turned to her aunt. “Really, Aunt Julia, not everything has suspicious undertones, you know. Maybe you’ve been too immersed in your murder mysteries.”
“I don’t know. People often have sinister motives in real life, too.” Aunt Julia pasted a smile on her face and proceeded to the table, which was already occupied by their dinner companions.
They took their seats and introductions were made. Across from Nora sat Birdie and Walt Smithson, a young couple clearly more interested in each other than anyone else at the table. To her right were Percival and Irene Montford. She recognized Percival as the gentleman who was almost bowled over by Johnny Stokes. Speaking of Stokes, Nora wondered if he was still stumbling around. She searched for him as the rest of the introductions were made and soon spotted him making his way over from the staircase. His gait was steady; apparently whatever had hampered his stride at the reception had worn off. He took his seat at the table with the Hinchcliffes. Nora’s gaze fell on the table behind that, the one right next to the door that led backstage. Max Lawton sat alone, watching the door as if waiting for something… or someone. Delilah?
“… Don’t you think so, dear?” Aunt Julia’s question pulled her attention back to the table.
“Sorry, Auntie… what was the question?”
“Her brooch… isn’t it lovely?” Aunt Julia was pointing to the woman next to her who had introduced herself as Beulah Entwhistle. Beulah’s fingers fluttered around a diamond-studded brooch in the shape of a bird clasped at the neck of her modest black dress.
“Just beautiful,” Norah said.
“Thank you. Harold gave it to me as an anniversary gift.” She looked adoringly at the man beside her. “Forty years.”