The Second Mrs. Astor

by Shana Abe

“It can be difficult sometimes for our families to accept us as people separate from who they are. As separate souls. When we’re young, we’re taught to behave as our parents do—to cherish what they cherish and believe what they believe. And for a while, that’s as it should be. But as adults, sometimes we have our own desires, our own hopes, that are at odds with how our parents view the world.”

“We live in a marvelous age, Madeleine. A magnificent age. We are witness to innovations and ideas never before imagined upon this earth. Science, philosophy, the arts. We’re fortunate enough to be cast amid these times, destined to be amazed at man’s ideas and innovations. Destined to be improved by them.”

There are certain people in this world who have the ability to make you feel as if you’re the only person in the universe who matters to them. Whether it’s moment by moment or enough years to count up to a lifetime, they look you in the eyes and smile at you, direct and sincere—and you’re smitten. They draw you into their realm, into their rendering of events and ideas and rituals. Everything they say becomes vitally important. Every action of theirs becomes truth. Sometimes these people are innocents—this is a charisma they were born with; they did not earn it; it’s simply their birthright—and sometimes it is a craft they practice, a manipulation. They set out to entice you, to seduce you, simply because they can—or because they want something in return. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.

“I’ve always thought the best way to get the measure of a man is to observe how he treats his animals.”

“I would not have the world be cruel to you,” she emphasized. “I would not have Vincent Astor be cruel to you. But if—when—those things happen, I would not have you be cruel in return. Kinder hearts are stronger, I think.”

Everything was kept as secret as possible. Which meant, naturally, that hardly any of it was secret.

I wanted the truth of love, the pure molten core of it, because anything short of that was just a cheat.”

The

The nature of hope is curious to me. It can sustain us through the darkest of times. It can buoy us above every reasonable expectation of despair. Yet hope can shatter us just as readily as the darkness can. People refer to it as false hope, but I think that’s misleading, because the feeling itself is painfully true. It is a treacherous hope, more precisely. A dangerous one.