The train rolled to a stop at the depot; the brakes lurching every car forward as it halted at the platform. Rose braced herself in her seat for the impending stop while her little brother stood to his feet and flew forward three feet, earning him a quick scolding from their mother.
"Rose, honey, put your hat on," her mother said, as she perfectly positioned a wide-brimmed hat on top of her head of short, dark curls. Instead, Rose opted for the red kerchief she had tucked away in her purse the previous day.
"Rose..." she sighed as the young woman knotted the red cloth at her chin. It matched the red in her lips and the rosiness in her cheeks perfectly. Her long, dark curls spilled out from underneath, blanketing her shoulders and tumbling down her back. The family may have spent the past day on a train headed for the coast, but she looked as fresh as the flower that was her namesake.
The patriarch of the family appeared in the doorway of the train car -- Rose's father, Robert, an extremely wealthy man in his 40s who had managed to save his family from the depression that had crippled the country. He was a quiet man, however he was anything but modest when it came to flaunting the wealth of his family. They spent their winters in the city and with the first sign of warm, summery weather they headed to the Atlantic coast where they spent the warm months living like royalty and attending parties until school called them back to a slightly more modest lifestyle.
This summer would be different though, at least for Rose. She had finished school the previous fall and when the city did not provide any suitable, noteworthy bachelors for her to date, the coast was the next logical step.
"Rose," her father said, stopping her before she followed her mother and brother out to the train. She turned to him and his face immediately softened into a smile and he kissed her softly on the forehead. "I don't care what your mother thinks in regards to your dress and style."
She smiled. Her mother had been of the opinion that she was unable to find a suitable bachelor because she was too "old fashioned". She didn't wear her hair in a fashionable bob, nor did she care about what she put on in the morning. She made sure to look presentable in the evening and at parties, but as far as she was concerned, there was no reason to make herself look special.
"Today is a day just like any other," she said with a smile to her father.
"And someone will love you for that," he said, ushering her through the door and down to the platform.
**
"Dinner!" someone called from down the stairs.
"Race you," Rose said, meeting the eye of her ten year old brother as he peeked out from the door of his own room across the hall. She may have been eighteen years old, but most of the time, especially during the summer, she didn't feel like she was. She was still treated like a child by her mother, and her brother did not have very many friends of his own. Many times, she was left to watch him, play with him. Her "adult time" was spent at parties and soirees where she was usually the youngest person in the room.
She and her brother fought their way into the dining room, the two of them giggling and laughing as if they were both ten years old.
"Rose!" her mother cried out loudly. Rose looked around the dining table, the smile on her face disappeared and her posture improved instantly. Her mother and father were both already seated, but there were two other people at the table who were complete strangers. Two men, sitting across from one another at the far side of the table smiled weakly in the direction of Rose and her brother.
"Mr. Anderson, Mr. Dupont," her father said softly. "My daughter, Rose." He paused, allowing Rose to acknowledge the two men. "And my son, Robert."
Rose took her seat next to the younger of the two men. She knew that her parents had the intention of introducing her to eligible men, but the man sitting on the other side of the table seemed far too old for her. She supposed that he was handsome with his blue-green eyes and dark hair, but he had to have been her father's age -- at least. She couldn't find very much to desire in the man sitting next to her though. At least he looked closer to her age, but he was very thin with spindly arms and fingers. His hair was flat and blonde and his eyes lacked any spark.
"John Anderson," he said to her, catching her sideways glances in his direction.
"Pleased to meet you," she said quietly, hoping that the slight questioning inflection at the end of the statement didn't arouse suspicion.
"I will be working with Mr. Anderson and Mr. Dupont while we are out here," her father said, catching onto Rose's thoughts of what the men were doing at their dinner table.
"Mr. Dupont lives in the estate next door," her mother said as she swirled a spoon around in her bowl of soup.
"James," the man across the table said quietly. "My name is James." He fully directed the statement towards Rose. She smiled and nodded, trying to place the accent in his voice. It wasn't anything she had heard before. Slightly English, perhaps, but with an unfamiliar twang underneath.
"John here just finished school," her father said proudly. Rose inwardly rolled her eyes. As much as she loved an educated man, she couldn't help but hate every single recent graduate she had come across lately. So pretentious!
"Mr. Dupont," Rose said defiantly, turning her attention across the table. "May I ask where you are from?"
"Rose..." her mother hissed quietly.
"New Orleans," he said proudly.
"Except James has been practicing in London for the past, how many years has it been?" her father asked.
"Seven," he replied. Immediately, Rose tried to place him in her mind. She tried to figure out if she had seen him in the past, seven years ago...she could barely remember things from three years ago, she was trying hard to remember the summer she turned eleven.
"Have you always lived next door?" Rose asked.
"Rose!" her mother exclaimed under her breath while nodding to the man sitting next to her. The man Rose supposed she was supposed to be directing her questions to.
James laughed softly, "No. This is my first year in the area."
"You'll love it," Rose gushed without thinking twice. James smiled.
"I'm sure I will."
**
Before the crash, Rose loved going to the parties that seemed to happen nightly during the month of July. Though most of her family's friends, neighbors and colleagues had evaded the worst of the worst, attendance was certainly sparser than it had been when Rose was younger. Friends that she had made as a teenager no longer spent their summers at the sea and she craved the attention of someone -- anyone -- who wasn't her parents or little brother.
Tonight was no different. Rose wondered how she was supposed to meet eligible bachelors when there weren't any in attendance. She felt that she had made her intentions perfectly clear their first night at the estate. She had no interest in Mr. Anderson or anyone like Mr. Anderson. Spindly men who thought their education was the golden ticket to marriage and had nothing else to offer could dream of young women like her -- she knew she deserved better. Someone more handsome, someone a bit more established in their life and in society.
