The American Lady(73)

Wanda smiled and took the glass of water that the waiter had placed reverently on the table.

Harold watched her as she gulped down the water. That was typical Wanda, he thought fondly, then remembered why he had wanted to meet like this.

“So Marie has followed her heart in the end . . .” That wasn’t such a bad way to begin, in fact.

“Yes, but she did it at the worst imaginable moment!” Wanda laughed, quite oblivious to his lovey-dovey tones. “Apparently they’re right in the middle of preparing the new catalog back home in Lauscha—and the big question is how they’ll ever get it ready by February without Marie to help. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, my cousin Anna has just sprained her ankle so badly that she can’t even walk, never mind work the bellows treadle. If I understand right, she not just one of the glassblowers, she also runs all the errands for the day-to-day business in the workshop. My mother tells me that Aunt Johanna is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Marie’s decision to move to Genoa is a catastrophe.” Her cheeks were aglow with excitement.

“Wanda! Can you please forget your German relatives for a moment?” Harold leaned across the table insistently and took her hand. “I have some news too . . . good news!” He paused for effect. “You are sitting across the table, my dear, from a newly appointed bank manager.”

“Harold!” Wanda squealed with delight. “I’m so happy for you!” She was already at his side of the table and leaning down to kiss him. “Congratulations! I’m quite sure they couldn’t have picked anybody better for such an important job.”

“There’s a catch, though . . . I have to take over a branch down in New Mexico. I know, I know, it’s a long way from New York. But I’ve asked around and apparently Albuquerque is a very nice city. They’ve got their own theater, lots of shops, and a well-tended park.” He laughed. “I promise that you won’t even miss New York. And it’s only for two years. Mr. Robinson—he’s in charge of deciding where managers are posted—he tells me that there’s a good chance I’ll . . .”

“Harold . . .”

He reached for Wanda’s hand again and stroked it. “I know; it’s all rather sudden. I hadn’t expected myself that I would—”

“Harold!” she interrupted him again, this time more insistently. “I . . . can’t . . . come to New Mexico with you.”

He smiled. All of a sudden Wanda was showing herself to be the well-brought-up, levelheaded girl he knew and loved. At least her Aunt Marie’s scandalous habits hadn’t rubbed off on her!

“Of course you can,” he said softly as she stared at him, perplexed. He decided not to leave her hanging any longer. In one smooth motion he took the little leather case from his pocket and flipped it open with his finger. Then he turned the case so that Wanda could see the diamond ring in its cushion of dark-blue velvet. “But you’ll come as my wife. Which is why I’m asking you, here and now—Wanda, will you marry me?”

She looked down at the ring, then up at him. As though she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Harold felt a wave of remorse. He knew how it could feel to wait an age for something and then finally get what you wanted; sometimes the joy at the achievement was mixed with a tinge of sourness, like milk left to stand too long.

He fumbled for words to set things right. This wasn’t how he had imagined this moment.

If Ruth Miles had had any say in the matter he would have proposed to Wanda last year. But he had wanted to do everything right, damn it all! He hadn’t wanted to ask Steven Miles for his daughter’s hand in marriage when he was just a poor nobody himself—now at least he had a solid job title.

But why was Wanda behaving so oddly? She ought to be smiling again—she’d had time to get over the initial shock by now. He had expected her to spring to her feet and dance a waltz with him on the spot. Or at least order champagne. Or talk him into buying drinks for the whole restaurant—he had even put extra money in his wallet just to be on the safe side. That would have been his beloved Wanda! But he didn’t recognize the girl who sat across from him now, her eyes wide and her chest quivering as though she’d just been shaken.

“Harold,” she said for the third time. She took her hand away and passed it across her brow as though trying to clear her thoughts. “I . . .” She smiled helplessly.

He gave her an encouraging look, all the while fighting the dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach that something terrible was about to happen.