The Palmer Pool

30 | You've Been Here Before

"Walt saw me at the boardwalk.  He shouldn't be able to see me, but he looked right at me."  I closed the bedroom door behind me and saw that I was speaking to an empty room.  "Liz?"

"Just a second."  Her muffled voice was coming from behind the open door of the armoire.  She emerged with her arms full of fabric, which she dropped on my bed.  "Okay. Take off your clothes and I'll go over the plan."

"There's a plan!  Thank God.  Are you...writing the plan on me?"

"No, I'm helping you get dressed," she said, gesturing to the pile of clothing.  "You have to go soon.  You can leave your bra and underwear on if you want.  Let's hope no one gets that far with you on this trip."

"What the heck?"  I muttered as I pulled my blue dress off, but I let it go because she was helping me, even though I was stupid and reckless enough put my entire life and family at risk so I could make out with her uncle a few times.

"Chemise," Liz said, handing me an airy white dress that I slipped over my head.  "You're going to meet my friend Paul there."  She stood behind me, tying up a corset over the thin fabric of the dress.  "He'll help you find Rose. She could be 'recovering', like the article said, in a couple different places; there's the Elmwood and another hotel on the north end of town called the Somerset.  There's also a small local hospital on Third Street, but I doubt she'd be there because she's rich.  If she's been identified as Clara Bartlett, she's probably in one of the hotels. Both of them have doctors on staff.  Unless Rose ran off, in which case you might be out of luck if she doesn't get back to 1953 on her own."

Once I had layers of petticoats on and thigh-high stockings tied onto my legs, Liz held up a white, high-collared, long-sleeved blouse with big puffed sleeves, followed by an ankle-length dark brown skirt.

"How am I going to find this Paul?" I asked as I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

"He'll be waiting for you by the river, south of the Elmwood Hotel.  There's nothing there in the late 1800s.  Once you get there, start walking south along the water and you'll run into him.  He looks like he's in maybe his mid-twenties, but he's got that ambiguous look that could make him anywhere from twenty to forty.  It's partly why he's so good at what he does.  He'll be wearing glasses, when he sees you he'll take them off, rub his eyes and put them back on.  Then you'll address him as Mr. Warren."

"Wait, am I going through the river? Wearing all this?"  I suddenly felt too hot and it was hard to breathe.  "I can't swim in this!"  I could already feel the heavy, wet layers of clothing dragging me down.  I dug my fingers into the top edge of the corset through the shirt and tried prying it away from my chest so I could take a deep breath. "You don't need to be in the water, right?  So can I do whatever you do?"

"I've had a lot more practice than you.  Maybe you don't need to be in the water, but is now the time to mess around trying something else?  Put your hair up in a high bun, not too tight though."

Liz opened the bottom drawer of the armoire and pulled out a pair of tall black lace-up boots with long pointed toes and heels that flared at the bottom.

"I'm gonna look like the Wicked Witch of the West.  How will I get down to the river without anyone seeing me in these clothes?"

"You're going tonight.  No one will see you.  There's a small park with access to the water a couple blocks away.  I'll walk with you.  You have to wash off your mascara.  Any make-up on and they'll think you're a prostitute."

Once I had my hair up and the last remaining smudges of mascara removed, Liz pinned something to my head and opened the armoire all the way to reveal a mirror hanging on the inside of the door.  I hesitantly stepped closer.  There was a straw hat trimmed with a black ribbon and feathers perched on top of my head, the mutton sleeves and corset accentuated my waistline, from which the heavy skirt spilled down.   I looked like a ghost, or an extra from a period piece movie.