only people who showed up were women a little older than her, or teenaged girls with their mothers. They said how radiant she looked, but she could hear them thinking of themselves.
One afternoon in April of 1963, a girl about Eileen’s age came in looking for dresses for her bridesmaids. The girl made apparently random selections, projecting a nervous aura. She looked familiar—alarmingly so; only after Eileen had modeled a handful of dresses did she realize the girl was Virginia Towers, who’d left St. Sebastian’s in seventh grade to move to Manhasset. Eileen prayed she wouldn’t recognize her, but while Virginia was examining the seams she started patting excitedly on Eileen’s shoulder.
“Eileen?”
“Yes?”
“Eileen! Eileen Tumulty!”
Virginia’s voice was all heedless abandon. Eileen raised her brows in silent acknowledgment, perturbed to be addressed so familiarly in a place where she’d worked to keep her distance from the other girls.
“It’s me, Ginny. Ginny Towers.”
“Virginia, my goodness,” she said mutedly.
Kind, sincere Virginia had been the only kid in her class with an investment bank executive for a father. Her father was also a Protestant, though her mother was a Catholic who’d grown up in the neighborhood. No one teased Virginia, even though she’d been shy and fairly awkward; it was as though her family’s means draped a protective cloak across her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Virginia asked.
There was no answer that wasn’t awkward, so Eileen gave the dress a demonstrative little tug in the chest and raised her hands in amused resignation.
“Right!” Virginia said. “Dresses.” She had two in her hands and three more draped across the armoire, none promising. “Well, hell. Do you like any of these?”
If Eileen had the money to buy bridesmaids’ dresses this expensive, she would buy different ones entirely—sleeker ones, less vulgar, more versatile. She was convinced she had nicer dresses hanging in her closet than Virginia did. She owned only half a dozen, but each was perfect. She would never buy five dresses for twenty dollars each when she could snag onetruly gorgeous one for a hundred. She went out infrequently enough that she never worried about being seen too often in any of them.
“I think the one I tried on a couple of dresses ago is quite nice,” Eileen said.
“The lavender one? I knew it! I liked that one too. I’ll just have them order that one then.”
Standing in the billowing dress, Eileen felt like one of those men in sandwich boards advertising lunch specials.
“Eileen Tumulty ,” Virginia said, as though it were the answer to a quiz-show question. “I’m guessing this is just your day job.”
“I’m doing my bachelor’s,” she said. “I went to nursing school.”
“I figured you’d be on your way to being a doctor or something. You were always the smartest one of us.”
She felt her face redden.
“I’m finishing at Sarah Lawrence this year. And I’m getting married! But you knew that already. He’s a Penn man. Very square—he makes me giggle he’s so square. My father has set him up with interviews at Lehman Brothers. We’re going to live in Bronxville. I’m going to walk to school my last month!”
She knew of the town; it was a wealthy bedroom community in lower Westchester County. “That sounds just lovely.”
“And I know you won’t guess what I’m doing next year.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to law school. At Columbia.”
“You were always intelligent,” Eileen said, stifling her surprise.
“Not like you. You were a whip.”
“You’re very kind.”
“You were more of an adult than the rest of us,” Virginia said. “I often think about that day in sixth grade when you took me to Woolworth’s and made me buy a notebook for every class. Do you remember?”
She remembered, but she didn’t relish recalling what an excess of energy she’d had then for grand improving
One afternoon in April of 1963, a girl about Eileen’s age came in looking for dresses for her bridesmaids. The girl made apparently random selections, projecting a nervous aura. She looked familiar—alarmingly so; only after Eileen had modeled a handful of dresses did she realize the girl was Virginia Towers, who’d left St. Sebastian’s in seventh grade to move to Manhasset. Eileen prayed she wouldn’t recognize her, but while Virginia was examining the seams she started patting excitedly on Eileen’s shoulder.
“Eileen?”
“Yes?”
“Eileen! Eileen Tumulty!”
Virginia’s voice was all heedless abandon. Eileen raised her brows in silent acknowledgment, perturbed to be addressed so familiarly in a place where she’d worked to keep her distance from the other girls.
“It’s me, Ginny. Ginny Towers.”
“Virginia, my goodness,” she said mutedly.
Kind, sincere Virginia had been the only kid in her class with an investment bank executive for a father. Her father was also a Protestant, though her mother was a Catholic who’d grown up in the neighborhood. No one teased Virginia, even though she’d been shy and fairly awkward; it was as though her family’s means draped a protective cloak across her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Virginia asked.
There was no answer that wasn’t awkward, so Eileen gave the dress a demonstrative little tug in the chest and raised her hands in amused resignation.
“Right!” Virginia said. “Dresses.” She had two in her hands and three more draped across the armoire, none promising. “Well, hell. Do you like any of these?”
If Eileen had the money to buy bridesmaids’ dresses this expensive, she would buy different ones entirely—sleeker ones, less vulgar, more versatile. She was convinced she had nicer dresses hanging in her closet than Virginia did. She owned only half a dozen, but each was perfect. She would never buy five dresses for twenty dollars each when she could snag onetruly gorgeous one for a hundred. She went out infrequently enough that she never worried about being seen too often in any of them.
“I think the one I tried on a couple of dresses ago is quite nice,” Eileen said.
“The lavender one? I knew it! I liked that one too. I’ll just have them order that one then.”
Standing in the billowing dress, Eileen felt like one of those men in sandwich boards advertising lunch specials.
“Eileen Tumulty ,” Virginia said, as though it were the answer to a quiz-show question. “I’m guessing this is just your day job.”
“I’m doing my bachelor’s,” she said. “I went to nursing school.”
“I figured you’d be on your way to being a doctor or something. You were always the smartest one of us.”
She felt her face redden.
“I’m finishing at Sarah Lawrence this year. And I’m getting married! But you knew that already. He’s a Penn man. Very square—he makes me giggle he’s so square. My father has set him up with interviews at Lehman Brothers. We’re going to live in Bronxville. I’m going to walk to school my last month!”
She knew of the town; it was a wealthy bedroom community in lower Westchester County. “That sounds just lovely.”
“And I know you won’t guess what I’m doing next year.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to law school. At Columbia.”
“You were always intelligent,” Eileen said, stifling her surprise.
“Not like you. You were a whip.”
“You’re very kind.”
“You were more of an adult than the rest of us,” Virginia said. “I often think about that day in sixth grade when you took me to Woolworth’s and made me buy a notebook for every class. Do you remember?”
She remembered, but she didn’t relish recalling what an excess of energy she’d had then for grand improving
Similar Books
