reading, she gazed around at the heads in front of her, searching for consolation. The heads that were white or gray or bald she dismissed—nice enough people, but old: they did not count.
The Vandersons kept her attention for some time; she studied Mrs. Vanderson especially, and was torn between admiration and disgust. They were such snobs, the Vandersons, true old-New-England-family snobs, the worst kind. Jake Vanderson was president of a paper-manufacturing company that had been in his family for generations; as president he really worked very little. He didn’t need to work, because the wealth that had been handed down to him by his ancestors was more than any one family could spend in a lifetime. He spent his time traveling—“for the company”—to places such as Bermuda and St. Tropez and Geneva, and his wife Lillian accompanied him. When they were in Londonton for any length of time, Lillian headed up charity committees and gave elaborate parties for their friends. Everyone talked about these parties—they were so clever and lavish. Judy and Ron had never been invited to one of these parties, and this was a source of irritation and even grief in Judy’s life. Oh, the Bennetts had been in the Vandersons’ house, but only for the charity parties—and those did not count socially. It was to one of the frivolous theme parties—the disco party, the F. Scott Fitzgerald party, the Halloween masquerade party—that Judy wanted to be invited; she didn’t hope to be included in one of the intimate little dinner parties. Lillian Vanderson always greetedJudy and Ron with perfect friendliness: “It’s so nice to see you,” she would say, “and how is that handsome son of yours these days?” But she never invited the Bennetts to any of her parties—and Lillian and Jake had never attended any of the Bennetts’ parties in spite of Judy’s consistent invitations. The Vandersons’ excuses were always impeccable and given with the utmost kindness, but Judy would still take their refusals as yet another private defeat. What were they doing wrong? she wondered. Sometimes she dreamed of asking: Why don’t you like us? Why won’t you include us? What can we do? Every time she heard from another couple about one of the Vandersons’ parties, her mouth went sour with bitterness. Who did they think they were, to snub the Bennetts? She and Ron had gone to the right schools, they had enough money, they wore the right clothes, they sent their children to the right schools, they attended the right church and gave to the right charities. They ran with the right social set, shopped at the right stores, read the right magazines and newspapers, voted for the right party. They were attractive, affluent, pleasant, genial, responsible, and well-liked members of the community. Why did the Vandersons leave them out?
Well , Judy thought, with a flash of inspiration that made her nearly explode with laughter, well , she thought with a pleasure of discovery and justification so violent she felt a shiver pass through her body: Well! She would be sure that the Vandersons were not invited to the Wedding!
This could prove tricky—for undoubtedly Sarah’s parents were acquaintances, if not friends, of the Vandersons. Since Jake Vanderson was an alumnus of the college, he always donated a satisfactory sum to the college each year. But Judy would manage it somehow. She would ask to help mail the invitations, and then lose the one to the Vandersons. Or she could ask the Staffords not to invite the Vandersons—although that would take a lot of thought in order to come up with a proper excuse. Still, she would manage it, and the idea of excluding this family who rankled in her heart provided her with the greatest satisfaction she had experienced in days.
Now Judy felt benevolent, and as her gaze slid away from the backs of the Vandersons, she saw Pam Moyer and thought: I must do something nice for Pam. Pam and Gary Moyer were old, close
The Vandersons kept her attention for some time; she studied Mrs. Vanderson especially, and was torn between admiration and disgust. They were such snobs, the Vandersons, true old-New-England-family snobs, the worst kind. Jake Vanderson was president of a paper-manufacturing company that had been in his family for generations; as president he really worked very little. He didn’t need to work, because the wealth that had been handed down to him by his ancestors was more than any one family could spend in a lifetime. He spent his time traveling—“for the company”—to places such as Bermuda and St. Tropez and Geneva, and his wife Lillian accompanied him. When they were in Londonton for any length of time, Lillian headed up charity committees and gave elaborate parties for their friends. Everyone talked about these parties—they were so clever and lavish. Judy and Ron had never been invited to one of these parties, and this was a source of irritation and even grief in Judy’s life. Oh, the Bennetts had been in the Vandersons’ house, but only for the charity parties—and those did not count socially. It was to one of the frivolous theme parties—the disco party, the F. Scott Fitzgerald party, the Halloween masquerade party—that Judy wanted to be invited; she didn’t hope to be included in one of the intimate little dinner parties. Lillian Vanderson always greetedJudy and Ron with perfect friendliness: “It’s so nice to see you,” she would say, “and how is that handsome son of yours these days?” But she never invited the Bennetts to any of her parties—and Lillian and Jake had never attended any of the Bennetts’ parties in spite of Judy’s consistent invitations. The Vandersons’ excuses were always impeccable and given with the utmost kindness, but Judy would still take their refusals as yet another private defeat. What were they doing wrong? she wondered. Sometimes she dreamed of asking: Why don’t you like us? Why won’t you include us? What can we do? Every time she heard from another couple about one of the Vandersons’ parties, her mouth went sour with bitterness. Who did they think they were, to snub the Bennetts? She and Ron had gone to the right schools, they had enough money, they wore the right clothes, they sent their children to the right schools, they attended the right church and gave to the right charities. They ran with the right social set, shopped at the right stores, read the right magazines and newspapers, voted for the right party. They were attractive, affluent, pleasant, genial, responsible, and well-liked members of the community. Why did the Vandersons leave them out?
Well , Judy thought, with a flash of inspiration that made her nearly explode with laughter, well , she thought with a pleasure of discovery and justification so violent she felt a shiver pass through her body: Well! She would be sure that the Vandersons were not invited to the Wedding!
This could prove tricky—for undoubtedly Sarah’s parents were acquaintances, if not friends, of the Vandersons. Since Jake Vanderson was an alumnus of the college, he always donated a satisfactory sum to the college each year. But Judy would manage it somehow. She would ask to help mail the invitations, and then lose the one to the Vandersons. Or she could ask the Staffords not to invite the Vandersons—although that would take a lot of thought in order to come up with a proper excuse. Still, she would manage it, and the idea of excluding this family who rankled in her heart provided her with the greatest satisfaction she had experienced in days.
Now Judy felt benevolent, and as her gaze slid away from the backs of the Vandersons, she saw Pam Moyer and thought: I must do something nice for Pam. Pam and Gary Moyer were old, close
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