May 1958
"Sit up straight, Jessica! You're in the Russian Tea Room."
Jess straightened her back, but she didn't take her eyes off her Shirley Temple.
"You're not a child anymore," her uncle continued crisply. "You're thirteen years old and I expect you to act like it."
"Yes, Uncle Jonathon," she said, and lifted the deep red drink to take a sip so she wouldn't be expected to say more.
It was too sweet, tasting like cough syrup, but she took another sip. She hadn't wanted it. She'd ordered a Coca Cola but Uncle Jonathon had spoken up, instructing the waiter to bring her a Shirley Temple instead. It had arrived with a paper parasol speared through two maraschino cherries. It was an over the top drink, matching the over the top ornate red and gold restaurant where they were eating lunch.
The waiter appeared at Uncle Jonathon's left and set another martini nervously in front of him. Jess raised her eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile, but he merely glanced at her as he bowed and stepped back.
"Excuse me!" her uncle said, his eyes flashing.
"Yes, sir," the waiter said, stepping forward and bowing his head even lower.
"Did you repeat my specific instructions to the bartender before he made this?" Uncle Jonathon asked imperiously, fixing the young waiter with an icy glare.
"Yes, sir. I did," the waiter said, bobbing his head with his eyes on the floor.
"Very well," Uncle Jonathon replied, waving his hand dismissively. The waiter bowed even lower and made his escape. Jess watched him, wishing she could leave with him.
The crunching sound of Uncle Jonathon chewing the pearl onion from his first martini got her attention. For an older man, he was handsome. His dark brown suit was impeccably tailored, fitting his tall, lean body perfectly. His white shirt was stiffly starched and the maroon silk tie had the dimple perfectly centered. His hair, brown but graying at the temples, was carefully combed up and back with hair cream, the part in it, a perfect straight line. He sat erect in his chair, his bearing exuding power and wealth.
Over the last week, it had shocked Jess to watch how he treated people, making a point of letting them know he thought they were beneath him. Her dad, his younger brother, was just as wealthy since their family had started a successful iron ore mining business that was still highly profitable almost one hundred years later. But he'd never shown off his wealth or behaved like he was better than anyone else.
He'd worn suits when he worked at his job on Wall Street, but as soon as he came home he'd changed into comfortable clothes. Even when they went out, he'd preferred to dress casually. Instead of eating in fancy restaurants like the Russian Tea Room, her parents had preferred homey diners or small family run restaurants where the owners greeted them by name and told jokes on the way to the table. This was the first time Jess had ever been in the Russian Tea Room even though she'd lived in Manhattan her whole life. But then everything was different now, she thought with a sigh.
"Don't sigh, Jessica!" her uncle hissed angrily under his breath. "It's unladylike – and straighten your spine!" he added sharply.
"Yes, Uncle Jonathon," she said, sitting up straighter and lifted her Shirley Temple for another sip.
The waiter appeared with their lunches, placing in front of her the baked sea bass her uncle had ordered for her and a steak in front of him that was so rare it was lying in a pool of its own blood. Uncle Jonathon made a show of inspecting their meals to make sure they'd been prepared to his exact specifications before releasing the waiter. Jess couldn't help squirming in her seat watching the poor man being belittled, feeling the stiff crinolines under her dress scratching her bare legs.
While she silently ate her fish, Uncle Jonathon talked. "We have an hour before we're due at the lawyer's. I would rather you not have to attend, but he insisted on your presence. I don't know how he thinks you're going to understand what's being discussed. I'm sure it's all going to be over your head," he said, shaking his head with annoyance. "As soon as we're finished, we'll go back to the apartment to pick up the luggage. The train doesn't leave until eight p.m. so we'll have time for dinner. Are you listening to me?" he asked sharply.
"Yes," she said, automatically sitting up straighter and looking at him. He had the same brown eyes as her dad, but instead of the warmth she'd always been used to, they were hard and disapproving.
"Yes, sir?" he said with meaning, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir," she repeated quietly.
"We'll be home by tomorrow afternoon, thank God," he sneered as he looked around crowded room condescendingly.
Not my home, Jess thought miserably.
"How my brother could stand all – this, I'll never know," he said, waving his hand in a vague way at the crowded dining room. "Our home is in the country – fresh air, green grass, lots of trees. Life is slower, more peaceful. You'll like living there much better, Jessica," he added confidently as he sawed into his steak.
"Yes, sir," she murmured, feeling the familiar pain in her chest get worse at the thought of leaving.
By 'our', she knew he meant him and his son, Douglas. Jess had never met Douglas, but she knew he was two years older than her. Uncle Jonathon's wife had died a long time ago giving birth to Douglas's little brother and the baby had died too. She knew how sad he must have been to lose his mom and brother but now she could imagine how hard life had been since then with Uncle Jonathon for a dad.
As soon as they'd finished their meal, Uncle Jonathon flagged down the waiter and chastised him for not having already brought the bill while Jess squirmed in her seat some more. As soon as he'd paid, they went to the coat check girl.
Uncle Jonathon was all smiles when he handed the pretty brunette their ticket. When she returned with their coats and his fedora, he showered her with compliments while she giggled, completely charmed by him. When she saw the large bill he held out to her as a tip, her eyes got wide. She tried to take it but he didn't let go and leaned close to whisper something in her ear. She blushed heavily, giggling even more and he finally released the money with a wink.
Jess turned her back to them as she tugged on her white cotton gloves, feeling disgusted. How could anyone be so easily fooled? She was surprised to feel him helping her into her coat. She knew he was only doing it because the coat check girl was watching.
They stepped outside into unusually cool spring air and a door man in a long red coat and black top hat hailed a taxi. He opened the door and stood at attention, waiting for them to climb in. Jess got in first and once seated, looked out the window so she wouldn't have to look at her uncle.
As the taxi slowly made its way through the congested New York City streets, Jess listened to the honking horns and occasional sirens, thinking how she'd be leaving her beloved city forever in a few hours. She didn't want to go. She didn't even want to go to the lawyer's office. She just wanted to go home to her little apartment and find everything the way it used to be.
The law firm was located in one of the city's skyscrapers. When they walked off the elevator and into the reception area, an older woman in a dark blue dress and cat eye glasses stood up and greeted her uncle by name before offering to take their coats. Then she led them down a long hallway. Jess heard the sound of typewriters as they passed open doors but she kept her eyes on the floor, feeling worse with each step.
When the woman walked through one of the doors, she announced, "Mr. and Miss Blackwell are here to see Mr. Levin."
A younger woman in a pale pink shirt and black pencil skirt immediately stopped typing and stood up to greet them. She opened yet another door, saying quietly, "Mr. Levin," then stepped aside so they could enter. The corner office was impressively large in a city where real estate was at a premium. Windows on two walls filled the room with weak light from the overcast sky.
A short, balding man, much older than Uncle Jonathon, stood up and came around an enormous desk, greeting her uncle heartily. After they shook hands, he turned his attention to Jess and his expression became somber. She quickly looked at the floor. She didn't want to hear what was coming.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Jessica," he said quietly, taking her hand in both of his and holding it rather than shaking it. "We all are." The heat from his hands went through her glove. It felt oppressive.
"Thank you," she mumbled, and pulled her hand to let him know she wanted it back.
"It's a miracle you weren't with them," he said, continuing to hold onto her. The pain in her chest was getting worse and she needed him to stop.
"I know your mother and father would have been glad. They wouldn't have wanted you to die too." The pain was crushing her, making it difficult to breathe, and she had to get away from him.
"Excuse me!" she said more loudly than she'd intended, finally wrenching her hand free of his. "Where's the powder room?"
"I'll – have my girl show you where it is," he said, eyeing her nervously. He opened the office door and stuck his head out. "Edith, will you show Miss Blackwell to the powder room?"
"Yes, sir," she said, jumping out of her chair as Jess walked out. "Come along, dear," she said gently, putting her hand on Jess's back to guide her. Jess resisted the urge to shrug it off while she tried to stay in control.
Thankfully, the bathroom was a short distance down the hall. Once she'd closed the door behind her and locked it, she took deep breaths against the pain as she quickly gathered toilet paper from the roll near the single toilet. She pressed the wad against her eyes so hard she saw stars.
"I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry," she whispered over and over. She knew she couldn't afford to. If she did, she'd never be able to stop.
After a few minutes, she felt more in control and checked herself in the mirror. She was dismayed to see how pale her face was, the freckles across her nose standing out more than they usually did, but even worse, her brown eyes were red rimmed, as if really she had been crying. She thought about washing her face, but she knew it wouldn't help her look any better and gave up the idea.
Patting down her short brown hair, she sighed deeply and then unlocked the door. While she walked back to the lawyer's office, she felt horrible, like she was trapped in a nightmare.
When she stepped into the office, the secretary stood up, looking concerned. "Are you alright, dear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jess said, keeping her eyes on the floor so the secretary wouldn't see how red they were.
When Jess walked back into the office, both men were seated on either side of the desk, shrouded in cigarette smoke and holding tumblers of brown liquor. They stood as Jess entered and she slid into a large leather chair next to Uncle Jonathon without looking at either of them.
"Are you alright, Jessica?" Mr. Levin asked.
"Yes, sir," she said, smoothing down her mint green skirt so she wouldn't have to look at him, concentrating on the feeling of the stiff crinolines poking into her skin.
"I'm going to start reading your father's will now. Is that alright?"
"Yes, sir," she said, and clasped her hands on her lap. He picked up a stack of papers and adjusted his reading glasses. Jess took in a slow deep breath and held it while squeezing her fingers so tight it hurt.
"I, William Joseph Blackwell, residing at 533 East 11th Street, New York City, New York, being of sound mind, declare this to be my last will and testament."
As the lawyer's voice droned on, Jess slowly let out her breath. The language no longer included her dad's name or the address of her home, but legal words that had little meaning and held no pain. She looked out one of the windows where a pigeon sat on the ledge, grooming itself. She watched it while the lawyer's words receded further into the background.
"Jessica!" Uncle Jonathon said sharply, and she turned to look at him. His brown eyes had that hard, disapproving look again.
"Yes?"
"Did you understand what Mr. Levin said?"
"Yes, sir. I did."
"Well, why didn't you answer him?" he snapped.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Levin," Jess said to the lawyer. "I understood what you said."
"And the trust? It's clear to you how it's going to work?"
"Yes, sir. Very clear," she said firmly.
"Well, I think that settles it," he said to Uncle Jonathon as he stood. "I'll have my girl prepare the paperwork and mail it to your lawyer."
"Very good," Uncle Jonathon said, shaking his hand.
Mr. Levin came around the desk and took Jess's hand again while he unnecessarily repeated his condolences. She didn't meet his eyes while she mumbled a thank you and was grateful he let go of her right away.
When they finally stepped back out into the crisp afternoon air, Jess felt like she could breathe again. It was a silent ride in the back of a taxi to the apartment building and a silent ride up the elevator. The whole time Jess kept her mind blank, not wanting to think about the fact she was leaving soon, but when they walked into her small living room, it was no longer possible to pretend, and a lump immediately formed in her throat.
The furniture was still in its places but the knick-knacks, books, and framed photographs had been cleared away from the book shelves and the top of the TV, all of it no doubt packed into the cardboard box that sat taped shut on the coffee table. The hanging pictures had been taken down and were leaning against the couch.
Cora was a welcome sight, stepping out of the kitchen dressed as always in her pearl grey uniform with a white apron. Jess fought the urge to run into her arms as the lump got worse. She knew Cora hadn't been cleaning or cooking like she normally would, but had been busy packing up the last of her family's belongings.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwell, Miss Jessie," she said, approaching them to take their coats.
"We'll be leaving shortly, Cora," her uncle said briskly.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwell," Cora said, keeping her tone formal.
"I'll be making a few phone calls in the master bedroom and I do not want to be disturbed," he said warningly.
He brushed past her as she said, "Yes, sir," not even having the decency to wait for her reply.
Jess gritted her teeth as she looked at his tall, stiff back. It was one thing to see him order around strangers, but the way he had treated Cora over the last week had made her disgusted and angry. Cora wasn't a servant. She'd been with the family since before Jess was born and helped raise her. Warm and caring, she'd been a constant presence in her life. Now it felt like she was the only family Jess had left.
As soon as they heard the bedroom door close, Cora turned to Jess with a look of deep concern.
"How are you doing, Jessie?" she asked gently. Jess shrugged her shoulders, unable to speak as tears pricked her eyes. "Come here, baby," Cora said, opening her arms, and Jess went to her, burying her face in Cora's soft bosom to hide her tears.
It was comforting to be in her embrace and Jess breathed deeply, smelling the sweet smell of her Shalimar perfume while Cora shushed her and rubbed her back. When Jess pulled away, Cora rubbed her soft brown hands over Jess's face to wipe away the last of the tears.
"I've got a special surprise for you," she said warmly, but Jess could tell she was fighting back her own tears. She took Jess's hand and led her into the kitchen. Jess sat at the kitchen table where a pile of newspapers laid. A cardboard box sat on top of the stove with its top open and Jess's heart ached even more.
Cora placed a small plate of iced lemon cookies and a glass of milk in front of her. Jess wasn't hungry, but she ate the cookies slowly to savor them while Cora resumed wrapping plates in newspaper and setting them in the box. She knew it was the last time she'd get to eat Cora's cookies.
While she wrapped and packed away dishes, Cora talked about her two youngest grandchildren to take Jess's mind off things. The twins, Jonah and Micah were graduating high school in a few months and going off to the same college down South. They were the first of Cora's grandchildren to make it to college and the entire family was pitching in to help. Jess was glad she had something to be excited and happy about. It would help her be less lonely when Jess was gone.
When Uncle Jonathon walked in, he looked disapprovingly between the two of them and Cora stopped speaking.
"How much more packing is left?"
"Just this room, sir."
"I've arranged for the movers to be here at eight sharp tomorrow. You need to be here to let them in. Once my brother's things have arrived safely, I'll send you your last check."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwell," she said, and Jess could hear the tightness in her voice. Why did he have to talk to her like that, Jess wondered angrily. Cora wasn't going to steal their things.
"It's time to leave, Jessica. Go get your suitcase."
She looked at Cora as she stood, seeing deep worry in her face before she turned to go down the hall. She walked slowly to her bedroom, pushing down the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. When she entered her small bedroom, the pain in her chest got worse. As she looked around forlornly, it was clear Cora had been busy in there since they'd left for lunch.
The mattress of her single bed was stripped of bedding, the brown leather suitcase Cora had packed for her lying on top of it. Her dresser was bare of her collection of porcelain animals and figurines. The pale blue walls were empty except for the outlines of where pictures of ballerinas used to hang. She knew the stack of cardboard boxes in the empty closet were filled with the contents of her room. She went to her window and looked at the view of the brick building next door. It was the only thing in her life that hadn't changed.
"Jessica!" Her Uncle's voice boomed in the small space, making her jump and she turned around. "What's taking so long?"
"Nothing," she said, reaching for the suitcase handle and dragging it off the bed.
He took in her room with a look of disdain before shaking his head and stepping out. He'd told her at least once a day during the week he'd been there how he thought their two bedroom Manhattan apartment was entirely too small for a family to live in, as if her parents hadn't provided her with a proper home. But how much room did a family of three need?
When it was time for her to leave, she kept swallowing because her throat was closing up, but she managed to keep the tears back. Even though her uncle looked on disapprovingly, Cora dared to give her a tight hug good bye and Jess breathed deeply, taking in her familiar sweet scent one last time.
"You be a good girl, Jessie," Cora whispered into her hair. "Make your momma and daddy proud of you." Jess nodded against her chest. "Maybe you'll write to your old Cora once in a while," she said louder, trying to keep her voice light. "Let me know how you're doing."
"I will, Cora. I promise," she managed to choke out, blinking hard.
Cora lifted her chin and she kissed her forehead. "And I promise I'll write back," she said, her voice suddenly rough as two tears ran down.
"Come along, Jessica," her uncle said impatiently, and Cora looked up sharply as she quickly wiped her face, barely able to hide her anger.
Jess gave Cora one last squeeze before she let go. Then she turned and walked out of her home, feeling like her heart was being ripped out.
****
The picture in the multimedia is Mary Badham aka Jess. The video is Earth Angel by The Penguins.
How did you like this chapter! What do you think of Jess, and her uncle?
I've had a lot of questions about what a crinoline is. It's a half slip made out of stiff fabric, usually tulle, and worn under skirts to make them pouffy. Here's a picture!
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