a secret. In addition to owning a big insurance agency, Don was a silent partner in many Knolls businesses.
Don whispered back the name. I recognized it as one of the few good restaurants in Knolls.
‘You demon,’ I said with a grin. ‘You’re going to own this town before too long.’ Don loved that kind of talk; he grinned like a twelve-year-old with a frog in his pocket.
We chatted for a while, and at first I enjoyed it thoroughly. But as usual, Don (bless his heart) began to bore me just a little after a while. I caught myself looking wistfully at guests I hadn’t had a chance to visit with.
Mimi whipped up to rescue me in a swirl of red.
‘Daddy! You let Nick talk to other people. You can have her over to lunch soon and hash over old times. There’s Jeff Simmons over there. You better go tell him that Houghton needs some more insurance, after that awful thing this summer!’
Her father obediently headed in Jeff Simmons’s direction, his face becoming purposeful as he thought of business.
‘You’ve always been such a favorite of Daddy’s,’ Mimi told me as she whisked me away. That pleased me, of course; Mr Houghton had always been a favorite of mine, too. But this evening, as we’d talked, I’d caught a little gleam in his eye that was quite unwelcome in the father of my best friend.
I shrugged to myself. Oh, well, Don had always been an appreciator of women. He bragged about Elaine’s looks all the time, as if he were personally responsible for her attractiveness.
Mimi introduced me to white-haired Mrs Harbison, our next-door neighbor, who immediately assured me she’d ‘just dropped in for a minute.’ Mrs Harbison’s minute stretched to twenty as she filled me in on the details of her widowhood. Her house was as large as this one. I wondered how the old lady managed by herself. As I listened, I found out. Mrs Harbison had few free moments. She gardened, kept the house up, canned, embroidered, played mahjong, and was active in the church. And she took some pains to find out what church I belonged to.
It had been so long since anyone had asked me that, I hardly knew what to say. I’d forgotten that this was always one of the first questions to be settled in the South. I remembered I’d been an Episcopalian once upon a time. I breathed a sigh of relief when Mrs Harbison turned out to be a Baptist. She couldn’t enlist me in any of her church organizations, and she was a little disappointed about that. To my dismay, she told me she’d be sure and tell a mysterious Mrs Percy that I was in town. I assumed Mrs Percy was Mrs Harbison’s Episcopalian equivalent, and I shook in my shoes. Church-minded ladies are as incontestible as gravity.
Mrs Harbison finally wandered off home. I made my way back to the makeshift bar where Cully presided. We’d borrowed two sawhorses, laid some planks over them, and covered the whole with a tablecloth now sadly stained with spilled cola and bourbon.
‘Got any Blue Nun left?’ I asked.
‘Coming right up,’ Cully said, and poured me a glass. He looked at me a little doubtfully, and I thought he was remembering that long-ago rehearsal dinner when I’d had too much to drink. I looked him straight in the eye and gave him the smile that had formerly cost so much per hour. For a gratifying second he looked stunned. I decided to leave while the going was good.
‘See you later,’ I called gaily, and wriggled through the crowd to join Barbara Tucker and Stan Haskell by the mantelpiece. They were standing close together and alone, looking like a pair of shy sheep. It was obviously my duty as a cohostess to cheer up this corner of the party.
I bellowed at Stan and Barbara over the noise of the room and got them livened up. Soon another Houghton professor wandered over and began to deliver a neat character assessment of his department head. I fixed my face in attentiveness, but my mind drifted. I listened to the party booming all around me. This was my first
Don whispered back the name. I recognized it as one of the few good restaurants in Knolls.
‘You demon,’ I said with a grin. ‘You’re going to own this town before too long.’ Don loved that kind of talk; he grinned like a twelve-year-old with a frog in his pocket.
We chatted for a while, and at first I enjoyed it thoroughly. But as usual, Don (bless his heart) began to bore me just a little after a while. I caught myself looking wistfully at guests I hadn’t had a chance to visit with.
Mimi whipped up to rescue me in a swirl of red.
‘Daddy! You let Nick talk to other people. You can have her over to lunch soon and hash over old times. There’s Jeff Simmons over there. You better go tell him that Houghton needs some more insurance, after that awful thing this summer!’
Her father obediently headed in Jeff Simmons’s direction, his face becoming purposeful as he thought of business.
‘You’ve always been such a favorite of Daddy’s,’ Mimi told me as she whisked me away. That pleased me, of course; Mr Houghton had always been a favorite of mine, too. But this evening, as we’d talked, I’d caught a little gleam in his eye that was quite unwelcome in the father of my best friend.
I shrugged to myself. Oh, well, Don had always been an appreciator of women. He bragged about Elaine’s looks all the time, as if he were personally responsible for her attractiveness.
Mimi introduced me to white-haired Mrs Harbison, our next-door neighbor, who immediately assured me she’d ‘just dropped in for a minute.’ Mrs Harbison’s minute stretched to twenty as she filled me in on the details of her widowhood. Her house was as large as this one. I wondered how the old lady managed by herself. As I listened, I found out. Mrs Harbison had few free moments. She gardened, kept the house up, canned, embroidered, played mahjong, and was active in the church. And she took some pains to find out what church I belonged to.
It had been so long since anyone had asked me that, I hardly knew what to say. I’d forgotten that this was always one of the first questions to be settled in the South. I remembered I’d been an Episcopalian once upon a time. I breathed a sigh of relief when Mrs Harbison turned out to be a Baptist. She couldn’t enlist me in any of her church organizations, and she was a little disappointed about that. To my dismay, she told me she’d be sure and tell a mysterious Mrs Percy that I was in town. I assumed Mrs Percy was Mrs Harbison’s Episcopalian equivalent, and I shook in my shoes. Church-minded ladies are as incontestible as gravity.
Mrs Harbison finally wandered off home. I made my way back to the makeshift bar where Cully presided. We’d borrowed two sawhorses, laid some planks over them, and covered the whole with a tablecloth now sadly stained with spilled cola and bourbon.
‘Got any Blue Nun left?’ I asked.
‘Coming right up,’ Cully said, and poured me a glass. He looked at me a little doubtfully, and I thought he was remembering that long-ago rehearsal dinner when I’d had too much to drink. I looked him straight in the eye and gave him the smile that had formerly cost so much per hour. For a gratifying second he looked stunned. I decided to leave while the going was good.
‘See you later,’ I called gaily, and wriggled through the crowd to join Barbara Tucker and Stan Haskell by the mantelpiece. They were standing close together and alone, looking like a pair of shy sheep. It was obviously my duty as a cohostess to cheer up this corner of the party.
I bellowed at Stan and Barbara over the noise of the room and got them livened up. Soon another Houghton professor wandered over and began to deliver a neat character assessment of his department head. I fixed my face in attentiveness, but my mind drifted. I listened to the party booming all around me. This was my first
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