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Drive that Denishawn had recommended. Leonard had already purchased their train tickets and paid in full for the apartment, although, Myra cautioned, it would probably be better to let Louise think he was paying rent by the week. Cora would be in charge of the spending money; he would give her at least a week’s worth when he saw them off at the station, and he would wire the rest at her request. The funds were hardly endless, but she needn’t be especially frugal: they wanted Louise to experience New York, or at least some of it. Museums. Theater. Restaurants. Really, any wholesome entertainment would be fine.
    Watching Myra tell her all this, Cora softened a bit. Perhaps all the Denishawn snobbery obscured jealousy, or simple maternal worry. Perhaps Myra wished that she could be the one to accompany Louise. It couldn’t be easy, sending your daughter off with a mere acquaintance. And Myra had taken the trouble to arrange a chaperone, to require one. Obviously, she cared. Perhaps she was just worried, as any mother might be.
    So when it was time to go, and she and Myra were standing in the cavernous entryway, Cora summoned her courage. “I want you to know,” she told Myra, slouching a bit so she wouldn’t feel so tall, “that I appreciate you telling me about that dance instructor, the one Louise didn’t get along with. But really, it seems to me that your daughter is a lovely young woman. I heard she even goes to my church.”
    “She used to,” Myra said flatly.
    “Oh. Well. In any case, I want you to know, you needn’t feel anxious about the trip. I know I talked about going to plays, but I assure you, I’ll take my primary responsibility seriously. I’m sure Louise is a decent girl, but I’ll be sure to keep her safe.”
    Myra lifted her brows, smiling as if Cora had said something funny. “Leonard insisted on a chaperone,” she said, opening the door to the sunlight and heat. She shielded her eyes with the flat of her palm, though her smile remained unchanged. “Finding you was his idea. I just want her to go.”

THREE
     
    Union Station was, perhaps, the most elegant building in Wichita. It was still relatively new, built just a few years before the war, its front entrance adorned with granite columns and arched windows more than twenty feet high. Inside, it was all one grand space, and on this bright July morning, long slants of sunlight fell across the marble floor. People holding tickets and suitcases walked purposefully between shadow and light, their footfalls and chatter echoing. Cora and Alan, along with Leonard Brooks, sat on one of the wooden benches on the perimeter. The high-backed bench looked and felt like a church pew, and Cora sat very straight, occasionally looking up at the large clock positioned high on a wall. Louise had left to use the ladies’ room over twenty minutes ago.
    “You’ll take the Santa Fe as far as Chicago,” Alan said, looking down at Cora’s ticket. “You’ll have two hours to change trains, which is plenty of time. But you should probably find your connection right away.” He gave her a meaningful look, using a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “Chicago’s station can be overwhelming.”
    Cora managed a nod, her gloved hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was seventeen when she first arrived in Wichita, literally right off the farm, her train pulling into the old depot, which was so much smaller and less impressive than this new one. Yet at the time, she had been both thrilled and anxious at the sight of so many people and so much movement, and all the fashionable women with corseted figures wearing belted skirts and high-collared shirtwaists. To Cora, even now, Wichita was the big city. Alan had grown up here, taking the crowds and the bustle for granted, and he’d been to law conferences all over the country. Now he was telling her that even he could be overwhelmed by Chicago’s Union Station, which she would be navigating early tomorrow, so she could