America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

As he left the newspaper office with his manuscript, Arthur felt somewhat lost, watching the traffic flow through Manhattan.

As I walked, I arrived at the red brick building in Brooklyn again.

Isabella's newspaper office is located here.

Arthur looked at the sign of the New York Herald, hesitated for a moment, and then reached out and pushed open the door.

It was a little darker inside the office than outside, and Isabella was tidying up the manuscripts on her desk.

Hearing the sound, she looked up and saw Arthur walk in, somewhat surprised.

"Arthur? What brings you here?"

Arthur also felt a little uncomfortable and didn't know how to explain it.

You can't say he didn't come here on purpose, and just happened to walk here.

So Arthur went over, pulled out a chair in front of Isabella's table, sat down, and mumbled:

"Just passing by."

Isabella put down the documents in her hand, glanced at Arthur, quickly lowered her eyes, then raised them again, her eyes filled with a cautious scrutiny.

"You look like something's wrong." She hesitated for a moment before choosing a gentler approach.

Arthur's lips twitched, unsure how to begin. In the end, he simply took a card from the inside pocket of his coat and placed it on the table between them.

It was the golden invitation from the city hall that stood out against the dark tabletop.

Isabella looked at it and asked softly:

"An invitation?"

"Yes. Tomorrow night, in the central garden, it's a ball hosted by the mayor."

Isabella took a soft breath, curled her fingers, reached out and picked up the invitation, flipped it open, looked at it for a long time, and then put it back on the table.

Then, she asked softly:

Why did the city hall invite you?

"Because I wrote a few articles, they thought I was satirizing the city hall and wanted to educate or reform me..."

Isabella pondered for a moment, then said with some surprise:

"Are you that 'honest guy on Wall Street'?"

Arthur tapped his fingers unconsciously on the table, hesitated for a moment, and then said:

"Yes, I am that 'honest man'."

"Wow, so you wrote that! You're amazing!"

Isabella took a few seconds to process the news before she remembered the invitations:

"Do you want to go?"

"To be honest, I'll probably go, but I don't know what will happen once I get there."

Isabella didn't reply to Arthur's words for a moment, and Arthur remained silent as well.

A silence fell over the office.

After a while, Isabella suddenly took a deep breath.

"If you feel... going alone might be too difficult to manage, I can... I mean, if you need someone to go with you."

She spoke slowly and with great effort. After uttering the last word, her face flushed red, all the way to the tips of her ears.

She immediately lowered her head, her fingers nervously twisting together, as if she regretted saying those words.

Arthur was completely stunned. He hadn't expected her to say that.

Based on his limited understanding of Isabella, she was by no means a person who enjoyed balls or was good at socializing; in fact, it was probably quite the opposite. This invitation required a great deal of courage from her.

This left Arthur momentarily speechless and hesitant.

"Isabella, those kinds of occasions are crowded and noisy..."

"I know."

She quickly interrupted him, still keeping her head down, her voice muffled.

"I know what it's like. But... precisely because it's difficult to handle, you shouldn't go alone, right?"

She finally raised her head, her face still red, but this time she didn't avoid his gaze, instead looking directly into Arthur's eyes.

"At least two people can talk to each other. And when you want to leave, you have a reason."

She spoke very quickly after that, as if she was afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to continue.

"I'll try my best not to cause you any trouble. I just think... you might need it."

A certain part of Arthur's heart suddenly softened.

His silence lasted a long time. The light in Isabella's eyes slowly dimmed; she felt a pang of self-doubt, even regret, realizing she had been too rash and overconfident.

"Of course, if you feel it's inappropriate, just pretend I didn't say anything..." She stammered, trying to take back what she had just said.

"No," Arthur finally said.

"It's not that it's inappropriate. I'm just... a little surprised."

"Isabella, thank you so much. You're right. It would definitely be better if two people went. I would be... happy to have you as my companion."

Isabella's eyes lit up again, and then she nodded, a rare hint of excitement in her eyes.

Then, as if she had suddenly thought of something, she stood up abruptly, appearing somewhat anxious.

"Then...you can't wear this."

Her tone became serious.

"The people there are very picky; they only see outward appearances and not the inner qualities of a person."

She turned and walked towards a small door at the back of the office, which led to a small lounge.

Arthur heard the sounds of a cabinet being opened and rustling inside. A few minutes later, she came out carrying a rather large clothes rack covered with a dust cloth, which she seemed to be struggling to lift.

She carefully placed the clothes hanger against the wall and lifted the dust cover.

Inside was a dark blue three-piece dress. Even in poor lighting, you could tell the fabric was of excellent quality and the cut was beautiful.

"This belongs to my brother," Isabella explained.

"He ordered it before he went abroad, it's been many years, and he's never worn it. I... I was thinking maybe I'd need it someday. Would you... like to try it?"

Her voice grew softer and softer.

"This is too much trouble for you."

Arthur looked at the dress and felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

Isabella immediately shook her head.

"No trouble at all!"

"If you feel it's not suitable, or you don't like it, that's perfectly fine."

Arthur walked over, took the dress rack, and said sincerely:

"I really like it. Thank you, Isabella."

"Well...would you like to try it on now? If it doesn't fit, we can have it altered tomorrow morning."

Arthur nodded. Isabella quickly helped him take off his coat and vest, then turned around to face the window.

Arthur, carrying the clothes, walked to the door of the lounge, then stopped.

Isabella.

"Hmm?" She didn't turn around.

"Really, thank you so much."

Isabella seemed to relax a little, and gave a soft "hmm".

Arthur changed into the suit. The size was surprisingly good; except for being a little loose at the shoulders, it looked like it was made for him.

He looked at the full-length mirror in the lounge, as if it were tailor-made for him, the effect so good that he almost didn't recognize himself.

She walked out of the lounge. Isabella heard the sound and slowly turned around.

"Very...very good. Fits perfectly. Excellent tailoring...I mean, you look great in it."

She added somewhat incoherently, "Better than all those people."

Arthur felt a long-lost sense of relief, and even felt a little like laughing.

"It's because you have good taste that you prepared it."

Isabella shook her head and didn't say anything more. She just walked over and carefully straightened his shirt collar and coat hem.

Her movements were very light and focused, as if she were in a deserted place.

After doing all this, she took a step back, looked up at him again, and spoke softly:

"Then, let's go together tomorrow evening."

"Okay. Let's go together."