here; about how free someone would feel with a house on one of these hills, looking down on the town and the peninsula, all the way to the bay? Or did she think it was just another nice neighborhood, not nearly as exciting as some of the others she could choose from, anywhere in the world?
Everything she wants, she gets, Sybille thought.
"I've been waiting for you and Nick to come to the station," she said, turning back to Valerie.
"We've talked about it; we just haven't had time. Maybe when I do the pitch for the antique-auto show."
"That's next week."
"I'll tell him about it." The limousine followed a curve in the road. "It's just a few minutes from here; let me tell you about some of the people you'll be meeting." Valerie listed some names with brief descriptions, and Sybille stored them away. "It's not fair to throw them at you all at once, but you'll sort them out when you're there."
"I'll remember," Sybille said. "Thanks." She tried to think of other words, other ways to thank Valerie for the evening. Why was it so hard for her to be grateful to Valerie? It always had been, from the time they met, when they were five and Valerie asked her if she wanted to go for a swim in their pool. "Will Nick be here tonight?" she asked, to break her silence.
"No, he has to work. It's just as well; he doesn't much like these dinners. This is the third time in the last two weeks he's turned me down when I've invited him."
"Is this really good, the two of you? More than just dating, I mean. Really... close?"
Valerie's eyebrows rose, and with a sinking feeling Sybille knew she had committed a serious blunder: she had no right to ask such a question. It would be a long time before Valerie confided in her again, even a litde bit. "This is the house," Valerie said as the limousine turned into a driveway. She glanced at Sybille. "My God, you look as if you're going to the dentist. Listen, these are just nice ordinary people; you're not afiraid of them, are you?"
"No, of course not. I just don't do this very often."
"You'll be terrific," Valerie said, and her voice was so natural Sybille knew she wasn't faking to make her feel better. 'Tou're very pretty and you've got a lot to talk about and there's something about you... Nick saw it; he said you were strong and very sure of what you want. People like that, especially men. You'll be fine, really; you haven't got a thing to worry about."
Sybille felt a rush of gratitude. "Thanks."
"Let's go, then," Valerie said, and Sybille followed her out of the car. Just believe her, she told herself; why would she lie? But Sybille had never been able to accept a compliment gracefully. She always wondered if there was a catch somewhere.
She followed Valerie with her usual quick step. "Have a good time," Valerie said at the door and Sybille nodded, but still, as she walked
into the large room fear gripped her, especially when Valerie disappeared right after introducing her to their hostess. Sybille watched her move among the guests as comfortably as if she were on the campus, and she thought angrily that she had no right to leave her alone; she should have stayed at her side. Valerie was always like that: swinging wildly from generosity and praise to total thoughdessness. She did just what she felt like at the moment without concern for what was past or what lay ahead.
While Valerie was the center of attention, Sybille stood at the edges of groups, hstening to conversations, smiling when others laughed, always looking intently at the speaker as if she were the one being spoken to. In that way she spent the evening, saying almost nothing while the guests stood about the living room, having drinks, and then sat at three round granite-topped tables for dinner. She watched, she listened, she took note of dresses, gestures and mannerisms, and the anecdotes about television and local and national poHtics that filled the conversation, giving her her first view from the inside. It was the most
Everything she wants, she gets, Sybille thought.
"I've been waiting for you and Nick to come to the station," she said, turning back to Valerie.
"We've talked about it; we just haven't had time. Maybe when I do the pitch for the antique-auto show."
"That's next week."
"I'll tell him about it." The limousine followed a curve in the road. "It's just a few minutes from here; let me tell you about some of the people you'll be meeting." Valerie listed some names with brief descriptions, and Sybille stored them away. "It's not fair to throw them at you all at once, but you'll sort them out when you're there."
"I'll remember," Sybille said. "Thanks." She tried to think of other words, other ways to thank Valerie for the evening. Why was it so hard for her to be grateful to Valerie? It always had been, from the time they met, when they were five and Valerie asked her if she wanted to go for a swim in their pool. "Will Nick be here tonight?" she asked, to break her silence.
"No, he has to work. It's just as well; he doesn't much like these dinners. This is the third time in the last two weeks he's turned me down when I've invited him."
"Is this really good, the two of you? More than just dating, I mean. Really... close?"
Valerie's eyebrows rose, and with a sinking feeling Sybille knew she had committed a serious blunder: she had no right to ask such a question. It would be a long time before Valerie confided in her again, even a litde bit. "This is the house," Valerie said as the limousine turned into a driveway. She glanced at Sybille. "My God, you look as if you're going to the dentist. Listen, these are just nice ordinary people; you're not afiraid of them, are you?"
"No, of course not. I just don't do this very often."
"You'll be terrific," Valerie said, and her voice was so natural Sybille knew she wasn't faking to make her feel better. 'Tou're very pretty and you've got a lot to talk about and there's something about you... Nick saw it; he said you were strong and very sure of what you want. People like that, especially men. You'll be fine, really; you haven't got a thing to worry about."
Sybille felt a rush of gratitude. "Thanks."
"Let's go, then," Valerie said, and Sybille followed her out of the car. Just believe her, she told herself; why would she lie? But Sybille had never been able to accept a compliment gracefully. She always wondered if there was a catch somewhere.
She followed Valerie with her usual quick step. "Have a good time," Valerie said at the door and Sybille nodded, but still, as she walked
into the large room fear gripped her, especially when Valerie disappeared right after introducing her to their hostess. Sybille watched her move among the guests as comfortably as if she were on the campus, and she thought angrily that she had no right to leave her alone; she should have stayed at her side. Valerie was always like that: swinging wildly from generosity and praise to total thoughdessness. She did just what she felt like at the moment without concern for what was past or what lay ahead.
While Valerie was the center of attention, Sybille stood at the edges of groups, hstening to conversations, smiling when others laughed, always looking intently at the speaker as if she were the one being spoken to. In that way she spent the evening, saying almost nothing while the guests stood about the living room, having drinks, and then sat at three round granite-topped tables for dinner. She watched, she listened, she took note of dresses, gestures and mannerisms, and the anecdotes about television and local and national poHtics that filled the conversation, giving her her first view from the inside. It was the most
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