ETA:
I must mention that Allegrita did some extensive beta'ing on this...and as always, made it better!Disclaimer: I can’t really tell you who owns these lovely characters…but I know it isn’t me. No infringement is intended.
Grand Central
Sarah Whitley jammed a hatpin through the blue and white straw of her new hat, and winced a little at the sting as the point grazed a scratch on her scalp. She didn’t care, though. She was too furious to even think straight, at the moment. She’d smeared her lipstick twice, her hands were shaking so badly. She swept the crimson-stained tissues off the vanity into the wastebasket and yanked on her gloves, glancing at the clock. Teresa and Dolly were expecting her for lunch, but she was too angry to put up with their gossip today. She realized with a start that she’d been losing interest in social chitchat for some time now. Okay, so maybe lunch was out, but she was not staying one more minute in this house. Not one more minute.
Shutting the front door with a decided snap, she hurried downstairs to the lobby and out into the Saturday morning sunshine. It was a gorgeous spring day, but she hardly noticed. She was thinking, hard. She had options. She knew she did. No matter what her father might have to say. She couldn’t help going over and over the conversation they’d had this morning, after she’d found an unpleasant surprise in the morning mail.
She’d burst into the breakfast room, the offending letter in her hand. “Dad, what is this? I thought we’d decided I’d have a junior year abroad. Somewhere serious. Somewhere real, like Heidelberg, or the Sorbonne—not this, this finishing school.”
John Whitley looked up from his morning copy of the Wall Street Journal. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You’ve had two years of hard studying at Columbia. This is what you need, next year.”
“But the classes—they’re all fluff. Deportment? Etiquette? Flower arranging? The only thing that’s even close to academic is conversational French. And it’s not even out of New York!”
Her father shook out the paper, his eyes returning to the article he’d been reading. “Sounds like just what you need. You’ve spent plenty of time on academics.”
Sarah sank into a chair across the breakfast table from her father. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you? I want to accomplish something with my life, Dad. That biology class I took last semester—it inspired me. Professor Willis says I have a genuine aptitude.”
“Aptitude for what? Dissecting frogs?”
Sarah took a deep breath, and looked at her mother, who sat silently at the table, sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t heard a word of the exchange. Or maybe, Mother was just trying to be invisible. Again. It was all too clear, she’d get no help there. “I think…no, I’m certain. I want to study medicine.”
“Medicine? Hmmph. That’s no fit career for a woman.”
Sarah could feel everything slowing, as though her very heart was stopping. “You mean, no woman is fit to be a doctor,” she said in a flat voice. “You mean, you don’t think I can do it.”
Her father shrugged. “This has nothing to do with your intelligence, Sarah. And everything to do with your true responsibility.”
“But dad—”
A long, elegant finger wagged in her face. “Listen to me, young lady. What you need to think about is how you can be an aid and support to your husband. Help him to make a mark in the world, instead of selfishly trying to take the glory yourself.” He turned to look at his wife. “You see how much good your mother does. There’s charity work, you’ll be joining the Junior League.”
Sarah bristled, turning to her mother. “Mama, surely—”
Her mother smiled serenely. “Hush, darling. Listen to your father.” Sarah sighed, wondering how long it had taken for her mother to put every opinion, every emotion, so far below the surface that not even a ripple marred that perfect calm. She knew she was on her own, and there was nothing to do but fight back.
“Dad, you’re talking about a husband, and I don’t even have a boyfriend yet.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, knowing it made her look like a sullen teenager, and not much caring. “You’re trying to nail me into a box.”
Her father’s voice was a whipcrack. “I’m trying to equip you for your proper place in the world.”
Sarah fought the tears of shock and rage that threatened to fall, holding on to her composure, with difficulty. “Can’t you understand—I can’t bear the idea of being so limited! I want to do research. Last week—I went to this lecture, on everything that’s going on in the field of blood diseases. There’s so much new information being discovered, every day… I want to be part of that, to help make the world a better place – not spend my life organizing dinner parties.”
Her father’s newspaper moved up in front of his face again. “You’re getting emotional. You can’t even have a rational discussion. How am I supposed to believe you could be a scientist?” He paused to let that sink in, before continuing, “You’re going to Miss Porter’s School for Young Ladies,” he said, rolling the name of the establishment off his tongue as though he enjoyed saying it. “No arguments.” And his attention was directed elsewhere, just like that. She might as well not have existed.
As she rose from her chair and fled the room, though, she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Women.”
Sarah shook her head, clearing out the cobwebs. She was a bit surprised at how far she’d come. She was too much of a city dweller not to be at least somewhat aware of her surroundings, but she hadn’t been paying much attention to her path as she walked, fuming, turning the conversation over and over in her head. She looked down at her new royal blue skirt suit, with matching blue and white accessories. A gift from her parents, just like everything else she owned. She wished she had one thing of her own. She’d gladly give up the chic new clothes for a gunny sack at the moment. At least it would be her gunny sack.
Her initial anger had worn itself out, replaced with a stubborn determination to find a way to continue her studies the way she wanted. So, she wouldn’t be going to Europe, as she’d hoped. That was fine. Columbia was a good school, she’d carry on there. If her father refused to pay her tuition, she’d find another way. She might not be an adult yet, legally, but it would only be a few months before that corrected itself. Once she turned 21, she had an inheritance from her grandmother that would easily cover tuition, and expenses, if she was a little frugal. Until then…she smiled. Her Aunt Caroline. Daddy’s sister, had always gone her own way, had always told Sarah to follow her dreams. Sarah’s smile was a little grim. How often had Mother told her, in exasperation, that she was as stubborn as her father? He might just be in for a little shock, when his beloved daughter made a few changes in his plans for her.
Her angry walk had taken her almost to Grand Central Station, and just like that, she decided to catch a train up to Aunt Caroline’s place near Albany. She had enough cash to cover the fare, and her aunt would be glad to come pick her up from the station, even if her visit was on the spur of the moment. Thank goodness her mother always insisted she carry some mad money in her purse. She chuckled to herself. She was mad, sure enough!
The train station was crowded, the announcements of arrivals and departures blaring almost incomprehensibly every few minutes through the enormous, vaulted space of the main terminal. Travelers rushed through, trailed by redcaps carrying suitcases; businessmen in gray flannel suits carried briefcases that surely held vital documents. Mothers led children by the hand, and shoeshine boys called out to attract customers to their stands. Even so, it wasn’t as busy on Saturday as it would have been on a weekday, and Sarah didn’t have to stand in line too long to purchase her ticket. But as chance would have it, the train didn’t leave for over half an hour.
Not that it was difficult to kill time in a place like this. Her first stop was at a newsstand. She’d need a magazine to read on the train, and on impulse, she bought a pack of cigarettes as well. Her father didn’t approve of women smoking. Her days of following his arbitrary dictates were over. Maybe it was just a symbol of her new independence, but she felt good as she tore the cellophane off the cigarettes, and put them in her purse, ready to hand. She realized belatedly that she’d neglected to get a pack of matches to light them with. She laughed a little at herself, then. This self-sufficiency wasn’t as easy as it looked. Oh well, she’d fix that oversight in the club car.
Sarah tucked her white leather clutch purse and her magazine snugly in the crook of her elbow, and headed for a row of chairs, thinking she might as well enjoy watching all the people thronging through the station. Now that she had a plan, she was determined to stop worrying about her father, and the obstacles he was going to put in her path—to try to put in her path, she amended—and start appreciating the hustle and bustle of the crowd. The admiring stares of more than one young man followed her, and while she knew better than to encourage strangers in such a place, there was no harm in basking in the attention, was there?
In the middle of the crowd, though, she stopped. Later, she’d swear she’d felt a gaze on her, felt the touch of something—destiny perhaps?—on her shoulder. She turned slowly, scanning the crowd, trying to act casual.
And then she saw him.
Not too much older than she was – 25, 27, perhaps. Tall, broad-shouldered. His bespoke suit was perfectly tailored; he looked as though he’d just stepped out of a Savile Row shop. He wasn’t wearing the same charcoal gray every other New York businessman seemed to favor, but a rich, dark brown that suited his coloring. A silk tie with gold and brown stripes brought out his whiskey-brown eyes, and with his pale skin, he presented an arresting view. She thought she could stare at him for days. And yes, he was watching her. She could feel her pulse start to speed up, just looking at him. A faint flush warmed her cheeks.
She’d heard her father say, many times, “To get ahead in this life, you have to take chances.” Well, that was one piece of his advice she was going to accept. And put into practice.
Sarah took a deep breath, and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Extracting one, she took a few steps toward the brown-eyed man, and smiled at him, tilting her head just a little to one side.
“Excuse me,” she said, “do you have a light?”
Wonderful! I love that Sarah is on her way to independence when fate insists that she meets Josef. Love how he stands out in the crowd in her eyes. This is all kinds of awesome!
And it's the most wonderful gift. 
Just wonderful!
Somehow, I can imagine her growing a lot closer to her sister-in-law, and maybe getting interested in the Women's Lib movement of the 60's... oh, wouldn't that have made John furious?? 
And I share in our happy circumstance. 
