A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Seventeen
Patrick Quinn stood on wobbly legs and held a
mug of whisky in the air.
"A toast!" he proclaimed. "To
our family, and to my first grandson."
"Here, here!" came the rousing
chorus in the crowded room. All eight elder Quinn siblings, their spouses,
children, grandchildren, and a few assorted guests had assembled for Christmas
dinner in the home of Patrick's widowed older sister Maggie. It wasn't the
largest apartment in the family--or the nicest--but, as she was the only one
who didn't have any children still living with her, "Aunt Maggie" was
the designated hostess.
"How do you know it's a boy, Papa?"
Bridie asked.
"Of course it's a boy!" Patrick
insisted, his words slurred. "'Tis me first grandchild."
No one was willing to argue with his logic,
especially not his daughter and son-in-law, who were looking quite sanguine in
the corner they'd staked out for themselves. Bridie had even gone out of her
way to be friendly to Rose, extending an invitation to her to spend Christmas
at her apartment. The Scotts had shown their generosity yet again and allowed her
an entire week's vacation.
"How 'bout a jig!" someone yelled
out; pipes and fiddles started playing, and Patrick grabbed the surprisingly
youthful widow Finley and spun her wildly around the room. A few other couples
joined in, while some of those who weren't inclined to dance cleared furniture
out of the way.
"Papa's sure havin' himself a fine
time," Meg commented, and giggled. Rose noticed her friend's cheeks were
flushed, which probably had more to do with the handsome young man at her
side--the son of one of Patrick's cronies--than with the alcohol she'd
consumed.
"Well, let's not leave all the fun to
the old folks," her new beau said, and with that he pulled Meg to her
feet.
Rose didn't look at Teddy, who'd hovered
possessively beside her all evening, like a faithful dog. She needn't have
worried.
"I can't dance," he admitted,
embarrassed. "They all make fun of me...you want another beer? I notice
you just had the one."
And I haven't finished that one, Rose
thought. With a touch of irritation in her voice, she said, "No, thank
you. What I would like right now is a breath of fresh air, if you don't
mind."
She stood and so did he, apparently intending
to follow her. "Maybe you can bring me another beer. Downstairs," she
said quickly.
He grinned. "Coming right up."
His words barely registered; she was already
slipping out the door. Once outside the apartment and away from the cloying
atmosphere of the party, she picked up her pace, and was downstairs and out on
the stoop before she could change her mind. She instantly felt the chill and
wrapped her arms protectively around herself.
The streets were quiet for once; the
festivities upstairs seemed many miles away. Rose's thoughts hadn't been in New
York all day. No amount of willpower could hold back the homesickness, the
longing for things to return to the way they used to be. Her only consolation
was that she was enjoying herself far more than she did the previous Christmas,
a miserable affair. She and her mother spent the holidays at the Hockleys' in
Pittsburgh. Rose, still recovering from the shock of her father's sudden death,
had been forced into making pleasantries with Cal's relatives, who only seemed
interested in the heavy diamond she sported on her finger.
Christmas morning, Ruth took one of many
opportunities to remind Rose of how precarious their situation was.
"You must not disappoint me, Rose,"
she warned, keeping her voice low so that none of the maids would hear.
"The Hockleys have been very gracious and so far you've barely been
cordial."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm trying, you know
I'm trying--"
"You need to try harder." Ruth
fixed her steely eyes on her daughter. "Unless you want to end up on the
street. Because the way your father handled business, we could lose everything,
including the house."
"But don't you think I should wait to
get married? I mean, we just lost Daddy this year."
"Wait for what? My God, Rose, you're
behaving as if you're being punished. Caledon Hockley is an intelligent,
successful, handsome man, and the heir to a vast fortune."
"And he's twelve years older than I
am," Rose reminded her.
Ruth lost all patience. "One of these
days, young lady, you will learn that life is not all about the pursuit of
pleasure. And marriage is not about romance. It's about mutual respect. Maybe
you don't love Cal, but you'll learn to love being married to him. I saw the
engagement ring he's giving you as a gift."
Marriage is not about romance. It's about
mutual respect. Rose was replaying her mother's words in her mind when she felt
a rough hand on her shoulder.
"Look what I brung ya!" Teddy
handed her a glass of frothy liquid. Rose accepted it and began to greedily
gulp it down, determined to chase away all the bad memories of the past year.
Teddy stared, his eyes widening with each swallow.
Rose finally lowered the glass and smiled,
but her eyes were sad. "I'm sorry if I haven't been very good
company."
"That's all right, Rosie. I know this
ain't what you're used to."
Her smile faded and she eyed him
suspiciously.
"Bridie's always talkin' about the Scotts
and their fine manners," he continued. "I'll bet they could fit our
little gathering into one of their bedrooms."
"It's not that," Rose said. "I
just miss...my parents, that's all."
"Oh." For once, he was at a loss
for words, but he recovered fast. "Maybe this'll put a smile back on that
pretty face o' yours." He dug into a trouser pocket and presented her with
a long rectangular box wrapped in a gold ribbon.
"Teddy, you didn't have to--"
"Take it, please." He thrust the
box at her, and she reluctantly accepted it. Upon opening the lid, she gasped.
A delicate strand of pearls lay on a lining of navy blue satin.
"Meg told me you like pearls,"
Teddy said. "I hope I'm not being too--" He was interrupted in
mid-sentence as Rose impulsively leaned forward and planted a kiss squarely on
his lips. When she pulled away, his face was the color of a beet.
"Merry Christmas, Teddy," she said,
and rushed back into the building. And Merry Christmas, Mother, wherever you
are, she added silently.