No Crystal Stair by Mairuth Sarsfield

Author:Mairuth Sarsfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Linda Leith Publishing
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

The first snows of winter hovered, heavily weighted with moisture. People scurried along quickly, knowing that if the temperature rose, the snow would turn to sleet. Then, if it fell during the night, the sleet would turn to ice, and the steep rise of rue des Seigneurs would turn into a toboggan run for the children, resulting in bruised backs or even broken hips for the elderly.

Emily sat in the window seat, half reading, half watching the world outside. She hadn’t been well for a few days—nothing specific, just a kind of ennui, an exhaustion that worried Marion. Suddenly, as if back to her old zestful self, she squealed, “Mother!” She could hardly contain herself. “Mother! Otis is wearing a zoot suit!”

Marion hurried to the window. “Dear Lord, no! He can’t be serious. Emily, run down and catch him. Ask him to come back right away.” Emily leapt down the stairs, not hearing her mother add, “Don’t forget to say please.”

Otis Thompson returned, broad-brimmed hat in his hand, overcoat flung over his shoulders, his wide-lapelled suit jacket hanging smoothly to fingertip length above ballooned trousers, narrow at the ankle. “What’s the matter, Missus Willow? Emily wouldn’t tell me. Are you okay?” Both he and Emily followed Marion’s slim figure into the parlour. Marion shooed the reluctant Emily out of the room and closed the door.

“Otis.” She sat down at her Regency desk. “Please understand, I don’t mean to dictate to you. I know you have a date tonight with Marushka to hear Oscar Peterson play at Victoria Hall.”

He nodded happily.

“Well, that suit is just not appropriate.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you wearing what they call a zoot suit?”

“Yes,” he said proudly. “They’re all the rage in New York. What’s the matter with it? A bit loud, but it’s cool.” He pirouetted to show it off. “Cool, that’s what they say when something’s hot stuff!”

“Otis, Marushka’s from a very conservative family.” “Right on! Her mother’s still in czarist Russia.”

“Be that as it may, wearing a suit that’s rather loud and high fashion might make her doubt you. Oh, Otis! That’s not really it at all. Marushka’s too wise to judge you on appearances, but others aren’t. Victoria Hall’s where well-to-do white couples go to dance. If you arrive in a zoot suit, they’ll just think you’re low-class.”

“I don’t get you. Why should I care what they think? What are you trying to say—that I should dress white?”

“No, no. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Her voice suddenly sounded weary. “Please, just humour me and wear your smart grey flannels and blazer. I promise you, I know I’m right—but I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Damn! Damn! Damn!” Otis marched out, hazel eyes blazing with annoyance, and stomped up to his room. He changed in less than five minutes.

Marion was still at her desk when he came back down. “Now I’m late,” he announced. “I promised to pick Marushka up at seven.” She looked up. She tried to smile, but sadness still lurked in her eyes.

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