Prohibition

Chapter 19: Evelyn

The next morning, Evelyn was sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee when the newspaper arrived. She had found it was almost impossible to wake up and function each morning without a cup of strong, bitterly black coffee. It wasn't that she did not like mornings, she simply struggled to find any desire or motivation to get out of bed. When she had been a child, she had loved to rise bright and early, ready to greet a new day. Now, she often found herself groaning at the thought of having to face the world another .

She was just finishing her second cup of coffee, when Philby brought in the morning paper.

"Thank you, Philby," Mr. Collins said through a mouthful of toast. Picking up the paper, he scanned the morning headlines. Suddenly, his face growing pasty white, he dropped the newspaper as if it had burned him.

"Dad?" Evelyn asked anxiously. "What's the matter?" When he didn't respond, eyes staring blankly into space, Evelyn picked up the paper, scanning the headlines to see what had affected him so violently. There, emblazoned across the front page in bold black lettering the headline announced, "Business Mogul Richard Collins and Actress Grace Reals—Lovers!"

"Dad, what is this?" Evelyn gasped, turning back to her father. "Is this true?"

Still, her father did not respond. He remained staring into space, as if watching his world crumble into nothingness.

"Dad?" Evelyn prompted. "This isn't true—is it?"

"Of course, it's not goddamn true!" Mr. Collins shouted. Taking a deep breath, he reigned himself in. "What exactly does the article say?" he asked.

Quickly, Evelyn scanned the contents of the newspaper article. "It says that you and Grace Reals have been lovers for years, that you were often seen traveling to and from her apartment here in New York City, and...that they suspect you of murdering her other lover! Dad, what is this?"

"Let me see that!" Mr. Collins exclaimed, snatching the paper. "Ms. Reals' other lover died several years under mysterious circumstances," he read unbelievingly. "Was his death simply an accident of nature, or was he murdered—perhaps by Ms. Reals' more favored and influential lover, Richard Collins?"

With a groan, Mr. Collins buried his face in his hands. "I'm ruined," he muttered, shoulders shaking. "I'm fucking ruined."

"Dad?" Evelyn ventured. "If this isn't true, then why does the article say you were seen traveling to and from Ms. Reals' apartment."

"Me and Grace were good friends," Mr. Collins replied. Sitting up, he faced Evelyn, his face earnest. "A few years after your mother left, I met her at a party. Over the years, we became very close friends. And..." he stopped, considering. "I did love her," he said finally. "Several times, I considered asking her to marry me. But, for one reason or another, I never did. And I was never her lover. For the entirety of her life, we were nothing but good friends."

"But why did you never tell me about her?" Evelyn asked. "Why did she never come to any of our parties? Why did you never introduce me to her?"

"I worried you would think I was trying to replace your mother," Mr. Collins said sadly. "I knew how much her leaving affected you, and I didn't want to reopen old wounds. That's one of the reasons why I never asked her to marry me."

"And the others?" Evelyn asked.

"We both agreed that, for the sake of our careers as well as our personal lives, it was better if we never married," Mr. Collins said. "Our lives were far too different for a marriage to have been ."