Free A Cup of Tea: A Novel of 1917 by Amy Ephron Page B

always run a gracious household. “You must be scorched,” she said to Eleanor. “I’ve got fresh lemonade.”
    Eleanor was feeling flushed and queasy from the heat. She held the banister to steady herself.
    “Come in out of the sun,” said Emma. “Not that it’s much better in here. What with the baking for tomorrow.”
    “Have you a—” Eleanor was going to ask for a Powder Room but she was too polite.
    Emma guessed her meaning. “You do look as though you might be sick,” she said and directedEleanor to follow her through the kitchen to the servants’ bath. Emma, protective of the house from strangers, waited outside the door and heard the unmistakable sound of retching even though Eleanor had turned the water on to mask it.
    A moment later, Eleanor opened the door. She had splashed water on her face and her color had returned a bit. The two women looked at each other. “It’s the heat,” said Eleanor apologetically.
    “If I were you,” said Emma who guessed her condition immediately, “I would loosen those stays.” Eleanor seemed to pale at this suggestion. She followed the woman back to the kitchen. “I suppose I should see if it fits—see if the hat fits,” said Eleanor.
    “Oh, no—” said the old cook, handing her a glass of lemonade. “I’ll take it up to her. I don’t think either one of you’s up to a fitting.” They both looked for a moment at the hat box on the table.

 
    W hen Josie came in at her usual time, twelve-thirty, from the theater, carrying a chilled bottle of champagne, she found Eleanor sitting at the vanity in her room wearing only white pantalooned underwear. The window was open and the overhead fan was spinning slowly, but all it seemed to do was move the hot and humid air from one place to another.
    “You missed my applause,” said Josie reproach fully.
    Eleanor had promised to meet her at the theater that night but hadn’t felt well enough.
    “I brought the house down,” said Josie. “It was fabulous.” She practically pirouetted around the room and popped the cork on the champagne. She poured them each a glass in jam jars which was the only readily available china she could find.
    “Where were you?” she asked as she handed Eleanor a glass.
    “I wasn’t feeling well. It was the heat. I haven’t been—feeling well. Dora sent me on a delivery, at noon. I thought I’d walk. It was too far to walk in the heat. Someone’s husband died and I—had to bring them a black hat. It—it was too far to walk in the heat.”
    “You look pale,” said Josie.
    “I do look pale. I know,” said Eleanor. “I shouldn’t. I should look like a picture of health. I’m—” Eleanor studied her friend. It wasn’t that she was worried what Josie would think of her. Josie had always dealt in unconditional acceptance. It was just that she had not yet said it out loud. “I’m—having a baby.”
    “You’re not…?!” said Josie.
    “I am.”
    “Who is he?” asked Josie sounding in that moment like an older sister.
    She didn’t know how to answer. The man she loved. The father of her child. “He isn’t here,” she said. “He isn’t—free. He’s in…France.”
    “Oh great,” said Josie without losing a beat. “A married soldier.”
    “Officer,” said Eleanor.
    “That makes it better,” said Josie. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?! What happens when you lose your job?! How long can you hide it?!”
    “I figured you’d have your name on the marquee by then and support us both,” said Eleanor who was only half kidding.
    “Be serious,” said Josie. “I have a friend who knows a doctor. Actually, I think he’s a dentist.”
    Eleanor cut her off. “I could never do that.”
    “What are you going to do then? You think Wetzel will let you live here?”
    “We’ll move. You’ve always wanted an apartment. I haven’t,” she said. “I haven’t thought about any of it.” She laughed a little to herself. “It’s not a