It was too surreal. “I love this dress.
I’m such a fan of your designs,” she gushed, brushing her fingers over the beads.
“Aren’t you a dear? You will have to pass by my new salon in New York. We’ll fit you for some new dresses.”
“Really?” Louise asked excitedly. “Awesome.”
Lucy cocked her plucked left eyebrow. “Is that a new term? I am so out of touch these days. I hardly get out of the atelier.”
“I suppose so.” Louise shut her mouth quickly, realizing her mistake; she’d have to be a little more careful with what slang
she used.
“Yes, I would be thrilled to create some more splendid dresses especially for you,” Lucile declared.
“Thank you,” Louise called over her shoulder as Mr. Baxter continued leading her through the crowded dining room toward their
table. Louise thought she might be the luckiest girl in the world at this moment. She just wished she had someone to share
it with.
“Mrs. Astor!” Mr. Baxter shouted to the woman Louise had met earlier on the deck, who was now wearing a floor-length salmon-colored
evening dress with lace sleeves and waving enthusiastically from a few tables down. He grabbed Louise’s hand and hurried her
over to their assigned dinner table.
Louise spotted the captain’s table at the far side of the room. Captain Smith was seated at a round table with a woman who
seemed to be his wife, the first officer, and some other uniformed men whom she didn’t recognize.
She caught a glimpse of Dr. Hastings sitting at a nearby table with two female companions in broad-rimmed hats that shadowed
their faces. He scowled at Louise and Mr. Baxter as they rushed by, visibly displeased to see his patient ignoring his strict
orders. The fine hairs on the back of Louise’s neck prickled; that man gave her the creeps.
“Don’t you look marvelous,” Mr. Baxter gushed to Madeleine Astor, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Oh, Henry, you are too kind. I’m as big as this ship,” Mrs. Astor replied, patting her pregnant belly, eyes sparkling. “Miss
Baxter, we’re so pleased you’ll be joining us,” she said, turning to Louise. “We were worried you wouldn’t feel up to it.”
Louise smiled mutely. She still had no idea what to say to this woman.
“Yes, she’s feeling a bit under the weather, aren’t you?” Mr. Baxter responded, giving her hand a painful squeeze.
“Yes,” Louise whispered. Mr. Baxter pulled out a dining chair for her, and she took her place at the table in between Mr.
Baxter and Mrs. Astor.
“Mrs. Straus! Jacob! Benjamin! Isidor! Wonderful to see you all on such a fine night as we have here,” Mr. Baxter exclaimed
enthusiastically.
Louise turned bright red as Benjamin Guggenheim gave her a suave, conspiratorial smile from across the table. She had been
looking forward to seeing him since this afternoon, and now she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She gave a quiet
“hello” and then shyly glanced down at all of the forks and knives lined up next to the china plate. For the first time in
her life, she was grateful that her mother had insisted on their formal dinners in the dining room.
“Champagne, madam?” asked a waiter in a white jacket, popping open a bottle.
“No, thank you,” Louise demurred.
“She’s only seventeen,” Mr. Baxter’s voice boomed, waving away the champagne bottle.
“Caviar?” another uniformed waiter asked, holding a silver service tray piled high with a mound of black glistening fish eggs.
“No, thank you,” Louise repeated.
“She’s been ill,” Mr. Baxter offered, throwing up his hands in a gesture of defeat. He turned to Louise with a puzzled expression.
“But you love caviar,” he remarked in a baffled voice. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Not anymore,” Louise replied.
He stared into her eyes for a moment, not quite able to place his finger on exactly what was different, and then hastily drank
his champagne in one
Barbara Boswell, Lisa Jackson, Linda Turner