She was still recovering from this realization when she joined Walter and Dorothy at the dinner table. The first course, a bountiful salad, was already set, but Michele wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat a thing after the day she’d had.
“How was it?” Dorothy asked when she sat down.
For a moment Michele froze, wondering if they had somehow found out about the passageway and the diaries, until she remembered the video.
“It was so surreal and amazing to see them.” Michele smiled at the memory. “I never thought I would ever get that chance. They were so happy and affectionate, singing and laughing. I want to always remember them like that.”
“I suppose—you must think worse of us now,” Walter said haltingly. “Since we were the ones to separate them.”
“No. I might have thought that once, but not anymore. It was Rebecca who separated them. I’m convinced, especially after seeing that video, that my dad returned to his own time to protect my mom from Rebecca. Maybe he knew she would be in danger as long as he stuck around.” Michele reached for her grandparents’ hands across the table. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Walter squeezed her hand gratefully, while Dorothy blinked back tears.
“I never realized … how long I’ve needed to hear those words. That it wasn’t our fault,” she said quietly.
“I know my mom would agree,” Michele said sincerely. “No one could have imagined the truth, but I know if my mom were here today, she would forgive you—and she would be sorry for all the years lost.”
“When we learned that she named us your guardians, we actually thought … maybe she had forgiven us,” Walter murmured.
“Maybe,” Michele agreed. “I think she must have realized things were different than she’d imagined.”
The three of them were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Michele wondered if she should tell her grandparents about the passageway and the diaries—they were sharing so much with her now, while she had managed to rack up a handful of confidences to keep from them. But then she remembered Irving’s words in his letter: “… our secret place.” They clearly hadn’t wanted Marion’s parents to know about the passageway, and Irving never intended for them to read his journals. Michele felt a pull of loyalty to her father. She knew his secrets weren’t hers to tell.
“Are you still sure about staying in New York?” Dorothy asked suddenly, a wrinkle of anxiety appearing on her brow.
“Have you given any more thought to getting away, like we suggested?”
Walter cleared his throat. “What Dorothy means is, we understand you want to handle this your way, but … you only have four days left and it doesn’t seem like there’s any sort of plan. If we hide you, at least we have some control in keeping you safe.”
Now Michele was really glad she hadn’t told them about the stolen key. They would have never let her out of their sight.
“I do have a plan. It just involves me finding out as much about my dad and Rebecca as I possibly can,” Michele told them. And, of course, getting my key back somehow, she added silently. “I’m not going to run away; it won’t solve anything in the long run. There’s really nothing you can say to convince me.”
Dorothy gave a resigned sigh and glanced at Walter. “Then I think we should call Elizabeth.”
“I still don’t see how she can help,” Walter argued. It was clear they’d already had this conversation.
“She talks to the dead, Walter,” Dorothy said urgently. “She can somehow … make a connection between Michele and Irving, before Michele risks going back in time.”
“Okay, whoa.” Michele held up her hands. “What in the world are you guys talking about? Who is this Elizabeth person who talks to the dead?”
“Supposedly talks to the dead,” Walter clarified. “We have no proof that she’s for real.”
“Sure, but who is she?”
“Elizabeth Jade—she grew up with Marion,” Dorothy answered.
“They went to elementary and middle school together, but they lost touch in high school, when Elizabeth’s parents sent her to boarding school in Massachusetts. We heard from the Jades that Elizabeth had some problems at school, and for a while she was being handed off to a series of different psychiatrists. But she always insisted that she wasn’t crazy—she was a psychic medium. Her talents had flourished while she was away, and her classmates were naturally frightened when she could predict events and see the dead.”
Michele listened with rapt attention.
“Her family turned away from her, of course. Here on the Upper East Side, the daughters of prominent families are expected to marry up and become the belles of New York society. The last thing the Jades wanted for their daughter was a controversial career as a psychic medium. But then, several years ago, Elizabeth was instrumental in helping the NYPD solve a kidnapping case and rescue the victim. From that moment on, she’s been something of a celebrity. She just wrote a book on using self-hypnosis to awaken psychic gifts, and it hit the top of the New York Times bestseller list.”
“She sounds amazing. I wish she and my mom had kept in touch,” Michele remarked.
“Elizabeth called the day Marion died,” Walter said, his voice low. “The girls hadn’t talked in nearly twenty years, and for some reason on that day, Elizabeth thought of her and wanted to get back in touch.”
“That’s why your grandfather doesn’t want to have anything to do with Elizabeth—she’s another reminder of that terrible day.” Dorothy looked gently at her husband. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that she has the talent everyone says she has.”
Walter heaved a sigh. “It’s up to you. I don’t agree, but if you want to talk to her, I won’t stop you.”
“I want to.” The conviction in Michele’s voice caught her by surprise. “Better yet, I want to meet in person. Let’s set something up for as soon as possible.”
DAY FOUR
Before Michele knew it, November 19 had arrived: the night of the Autumn Ball. Part of her thought it was completely nuts to put on a fancy dress and attend a school dance in the middle of her crisis, when time was quickly running out, but she couldn’t bring herself to let Ben down. Moreover, she needed to find another opportunity to talk to Philip—not to steal him away from his date, as much as she secretly wished she could, but to find out how he could see Rebecca, and what he knew. She had to find an excuse for a private moment with him at the dance, though after the choir-room debacle, she had a sinking feeling that he’d be avoiding her all night. But if I can just get him to listen to me, to really hear what I’m saying and believe me, maybe then he’ll open up and tell me the truth, Michele thought hopefully. Her mind raced with visions of them banding together to defeat Rebecca, returning to the closeness they once shared and recovering Philip’s memory along the way. Michele knew it was a long shot … but it was all she had.
Caissie arrived at the Windsor Mansion later that afternoon, lugging her dress in a garment bag and a tote filled with makeup, so the two of them could get ready together. The girlie scene was subdued, both quieter than usual. Caissie seemed moody as they styled their hair and makeup, while Michele was immersed in thoughts about her dad. The discovery of her father and Rebecca were the only aspects of her time travels that she’d withheld from Caissie. She hated keeping secrets from her, but she wasn’t ready to explain the whole truth just yet. As great a friend as she was, sometimes she got a little too interested in Michele’s time-traveling ability. Michele secretly feared that if Caissie knew she was a daughter of both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, she would cease to be just her friend—and would become Caissie’s science project instead. But she did confide in her about yesterday’s encounter with Philip in the choir room and the loss of the key during the blackout, making sure to leave out any mention of Rebecca.
“What?” Caissie bellowed when she learned about the key, her exclamation so loud that Michele had a feeling they could hear her all the way to Brooklyn. She lowered her voice.
“How—how could this happen? That key is only the most powerful object I’ve ever heard of—”
“I know,” Michele groaned, covering her face with her hands. “It kills me that I don’t have it anymore. I have to get it back.”
Caissie bit her lip. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel worse. Don’t give up hope. You could still find it.”
“I’d give anything for that to happen.” Michele exhaled, watching as her normally low-maintenance friend fussed in front of the mirror. “Are you okay? Excited for your first real date with Matt?”
“I would be, if he called it that,” she said dryly. “He keeps referring to this as a friend-date. Not the most flattering thing to hear.”
“I bet he’s just nervous,” Michele told her. “I mean, you guys have been best friends since freshman year, so he’s probably a little freaked out about things changing. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want them to change.”
“I hope so.” Caissie turned to face Michele. “How do I look?”
She wore a long, mint-colored halter dress, her shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a half-up half-down style. She looked beautiful, while still maintaining her quirky-cute style with silver feathered earrings and a matching hair accessory.
“You look perfect,” Michele told her with a grin. “He’s going to be all over you.”
As if on cue, the intercom in her bedroom sounded and Annaleigh’s voice piped through the speakers. “Girls, your dates are here!”
“Here goes,” Michele said under her breath before grabbing her silver clutch and taking a quick glance in the mirror. She felt a chill of déjà vu as she looked into the glass. Her only Gilded Age–appropriate dress was the blue chiffon that she had worn to the 1910 ball where she first met Philip. Her appearance was a constant reminder of that night, a reminder that she knew would be all the more painful when she saw him with Kaya.
Ben let out a wolf whistle as the girls came down the grand staircase and Michele couldn’t help noticing that he looked pretty cute himself. She glanced over at Matt and was glad to see him do a double take at the sight of Caissie, giving her a shy smile before handing her a corsage. After Annaleigh posed them for some cute-but-corny photos, they piled into Ben’s car and headed for the Waldorf-Astoria. The hotel was an art deco high-rise with over a century of history, and it suddenly occurred to Michele that Philip Walker might have attended events there in the early twentieth century.
The four of them walked through the main lobby, a two-story grand promenade reinforced with black marble columns. In the center was a tall antique clock, so spectacular that Michele had to stop for a closer look. The clock stood over nine feet tall, its gold surface ornately decorated with carved depictions of historical icons, from Benjamin Franklin to Queen Victoria, with a sculpture of Lady Liberty topping it off. The classic piece looked strangely alive, and Michele would have continued gazing at it if Ben hadn’t pulled her away.
They followed the hotel’s Peacock Alley promenade until they reached the Empire Room, a dazzling ballroom decorated in blue and gold. The coffered ceiling soared more than twenty feet above them, with antique French crystal chandeliers casting a glow around the room. A massive dance floor filled the space, and handsome oak tables at the back held vases of flowers, punch bowls, and trays of hors d’oeuvres.
“Wow. This is some dance,” Michele remarked as she glanced out one of the towering arched windows, which reflected views of Park Avenue from behind rich damask curtains. Her eyes scanned the floor for Philip and Kaya, but they hadn’t arrived yet.
“Everyone looks so … good,” Matt commented, his eyes roaming approvingly over the girls, who had clearly taken to the Gilded Age theme, displaying lavish dresses that seemed to be slinkier, form-fitting renditions of the classic ball gown. Caissie rolled her eyes, nudging him in the ribs. “Come on, Matt.”
A full jazz band was stationed on a second-floor balcony. As Michele and Caissie handed their wraps to a coat check girl, the musicians launched into a fiery cover of Nina Simone’s “Take Care of Business,” complete with horns, castanets, and a singer who emulated Nina’s smoky voice.
“Is this what they would have played at a real Gilded Age ball?” Caissie asked Michele doubtfully.
“Hardly,” Michele laughed. “Must be the band’s idea of it. But this is definitely more danceable than what they played back in the day.”
She and Caissie couldn’t help giggling as they watched their classmates attempt to dirty-dance to the incompatible jazz music.
“Fakin’ Jamaican alert!” Caissie stage-whispered with glee, as the school’s two blond wannabe-Rastafarians swaggered onto the floor, bobbing their heads and moving to the beat like they were attempting a rain dance.
“This night just might turn out a little better than I thought,” Michele said, looking on with amusement at the Fakin’ Jamaicans’ shenanigans.
And then, suddenly, she felt her body tense, and goose bumps rose up her arms. She couldn’t see him, but sensed his presence. Michele turned around, and sure enough, there was Philip, walking in with Kaya on his arm. For a moment, Time froze. Kaya and everyone else at the dance vanished, leaving Philip and Michele alone in the ballroom. Dressed in a tux, with his hair slicked back and the signet ring glimmering on his finger, he had never looked more like the Philip Walker she fell in love with one hundred years in the past. She noticed that he looked unnerved, and when his eyes fell on Michele, his expression intensified.
“You ready?”
Michele glanced up, Ben’s voice breaking the spell. The sounds and sights of the dance once again filled her senses, and she found herself now staring at Kaya, looking gorgeous in her low-cut strapless rose dress.
“Sure.” Michele followed Ben onto the floor as the band struck up the Gershwin classic “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.” As the singer began the first verse, Philip and Kaya followed them. While they danced with their respective partners, Michele and Philip locked eyes.
We may never, never meet again on the bumpy road to love.
Still I’ll always, always keep the memory of …
Michele looked away, a lump rising in her throat. As soon as the song ended she turned to Ben with a forced smile. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”
“I’m good. Want me to come with you?”
“No, that’s okay,” Michele told him. “Do your thing, I’ll be right back.”
She had just reached the punch table when piano chords that were all too familiar filled the room. She whirled around, staring up at the band in the balcony. Were they actually playing it?
Feels like so long been only seeing my life in blues
There comes a time when even strong ones need rescue
Then I’m with you in a whole other place and time
The world has light,
I come to life …
Michele’s mouth fell open in amazement as she watched her classmates sway and dance to the song she and Philip had written one hundred years ago. She found herself looking for Philip among the sea of faces, but couldn’t spot him. And then she felt the tingling brush of someone’s hand against hers. He was right behind her.
“What happened yesterday, with the sheet music?” Philip blurted out in a low voice. “And what is this song they’re playing now? Why does it remind me of … you?”
Michele felt her heart nearly stop. She turned around to face him. “You—you remember?”
Philip’s blue eyes darkened with frustration. “No, I just …” His voice trailed off as a few of their classmates walked up to the table, glancing at the two of them oddly. “Come with me.”
Michele could barely breathe as she followed Philip out of the ballroom and back into the main hotel lobby, away from the Berkshire students. They slowed in front of the lobby clock.
“It’s like déjà vu,” Philip continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Things seem familiar that I know aren’t. And I feel different than I shou
ld—” He broke off suddenly, looking like he regretted his admission. For a moment they were both silent, Michele’s mind whirring. Faint strains of their song wafted through the open doors of the Empire Room.
Why, when you’re gone,
The world’s gray on my own
You bring the colors back
Bring the colors back …
“What’s going on?” He looked at her desperately. “Everything’s turned upside down since I moved to the city, and I don’t know why, but somehow … I know it has to do with you.”
“I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazy—even crazier than you probably think I already am,” she said with a shaky smile. “We have so much to talk about, but first, you just need to remember.”
“Help me, then.” Philip moved a step closer to her, and Michele felt a delicious shiver run up her spine at the feel of his breath on her cheek.
Summoning her courage, Michele took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Does this … feel familiar?”
Philip held his breath. He closed his eyes, and for a minute the two of them seemed to have forgotten where they were.
“Michele,” he whispered, as if in a trance. “I don’t know why I feel like this.”
She found that she could barely move or think as Philip gently leaned his forehead against hers, his body so close that she could hear his accelerated heartbeat. With trembling hands, she reached up and placed her palm against his, their fingers interlacing again. Gazing at each other, a look of mutual understanding seemed to pass through them, when suddenly the grand lobby clock struck—and Michele felt their two bodies begin to rise.
Philip drew a sharp breath, clasping her hand tighter and looking down in disbelief as their feet were lifted off the floor by an invisible hand. “What’s happening?”
Michele was too stunned to respond, looking around wildly as an indoor wind filled the lobby, swirling itself around them. She heard Philip’s yell mingling with her own cry of shock as they clutched each other, their bodies spinning together through the air.