the
----
top of the glass. "How about you?" Allison said. "How have you been? Seeing any guys? Why did Natalie kick you out?"
"She's crazy!" Florence said. "I don't know if she's paranoid—or going through menopause—she's a lot older than us, you know—"
"Oh, Cmmb-ka! You're getting the cake all over your new outfit, you haven't even worn it once!" Allison daubed frantically at George's blue-striped shirt, a miniature version of the outfit worn by sailors from Marseilles in the twenties. "Oh, God, there's even cake on the hat!" The hat did not quite go with the outfit: it was a little red felt crown, with shiny orbs.
She felt desperate; if only Allison would pay attention to her. Once they had been so close. She was certain Allison knew plenty of guys to introduce her to; someone from a slightly different circle who would be viewing her for the first time, to whom she would still appear fresh. "The truth is, John sort of . . . broke into my room the first night and practically raped me. He told me they were getting divorced."
Allison looked up brightly. "You're kidding!" She began popping bits of George's gelatin into her mouth. "Getting divorced? I didn't hear anything about this. Why didn't you just tell him to get lost, Toots?"
"I don't know," Florence said grimly. "I suppose I felt sorry for him. It all seemed so unreal. I mean, I couldn't believe they would treat a guest like this. She basically locked me up in the storage room and then let her husband break in and screw me. Plus, he told me he was in love with me. And the worst part is, he promised to invest some money for me."
Allison looked delighted. It would be something she could tell Arch about on the plane, Florence thought, wishing she hadn't said anything. At least they would be out of town for three weeks. Maybe by that time she would have forgotten all about it and not repeat the story back in New York. "How awful!" Allison said. "Of course, John's always basically screwed around, but I thought Natalie read him the riot act. There's no way he would ever leave
----
Natalie. It's all her money, you know, and she would get everything."
"Is it her money? I thought it was his?"
"No."
"Allison, don't you know any guys for me? There must be somebody Archie works with who's single and eligible."
"Oh, gosh, I'll have to think." Allison's mouth dropped open, indicating such a task was hopeless. She had always had a recessive chin, Florence thought bitterly, tempted to suggest she look into plastic surgery. "Let me think about it. I'll ask Archie." Allison rose, leaving the table a disaster of goo and crumbs. "Do you have enough cash, Florence? I should probably get going and I don't see the waitress anywhere in sight. Archie'll kill me if I'm not all packed. He gets so nervous before a flight." She wheeled the stroller toward the elevator door, then stopped and turned around. "Are you going to Kathy's baby shower?"
"Who?"
"Katherine—Katherine Monckton. It's the night after we get back—her baby's due a couple of days later."
"I didn't even know she was pregnant! Who's the father?"
"Remember that guy she used to go out with, when we were all friends? She got back together with him. She says she doesn't want to marry him, though—I guess she doesn't want to have to end up paying alimony. Anyway, I can't believe you weren't invited. I'm speaking to Victoria before I leave; she's giving the party. I'll make sure she invites you."
She wasn't sure if Allison's attitude was one of noblesse oblige or if she was just being paranoid. With a regal wave Allison turned away and pushed her carriage into the waiting elevator. And reflected back at Florence on the mirrored walls were a thousand Allisons, with her thousand chattering faces; a thousand Plum-buns, sullen in their thousand strollers; a thousand shopping bags, each matte black, pale gray tissue spilling out the top, reflecting a million dollars.
----
The drinks and cakes came to thirty-two dollars.
----
top of the glass. "How about you?" Allison said. "How have you been? Seeing any guys? Why did Natalie kick you out?"
"She's crazy!" Florence said. "I don't know if she's paranoid—or going through menopause—she's a lot older than us, you know—"
"Oh, Cmmb-ka! You're getting the cake all over your new outfit, you haven't even worn it once!" Allison daubed frantically at George's blue-striped shirt, a miniature version of the outfit worn by sailors from Marseilles in the twenties. "Oh, God, there's even cake on the hat!" The hat did not quite go with the outfit: it was a little red felt crown, with shiny orbs.
She felt desperate; if only Allison would pay attention to her. Once they had been so close. She was certain Allison knew plenty of guys to introduce her to; someone from a slightly different circle who would be viewing her for the first time, to whom she would still appear fresh. "The truth is, John sort of . . . broke into my room the first night and practically raped me. He told me they were getting divorced."
Allison looked up brightly. "You're kidding!" She began popping bits of George's gelatin into her mouth. "Getting divorced? I didn't hear anything about this. Why didn't you just tell him to get lost, Toots?"
"I don't know," Florence said grimly. "I suppose I felt sorry for him. It all seemed so unreal. I mean, I couldn't believe they would treat a guest like this. She basically locked me up in the storage room and then let her husband break in and screw me. Plus, he told me he was in love with me. And the worst part is, he promised to invest some money for me."
Allison looked delighted. It would be something she could tell Arch about on the plane, Florence thought, wishing she hadn't said anything. At least they would be out of town for three weeks. Maybe by that time she would have forgotten all about it and not repeat the story back in New York. "How awful!" Allison said. "Of course, John's always basically screwed around, but I thought Natalie read him the riot act. There's no way he would ever leave
----
Natalie. It's all her money, you know, and she would get everything."
"Is it her money? I thought it was his?"
"No."
"Allison, don't you know any guys for me? There must be somebody Archie works with who's single and eligible."
"Oh, gosh, I'll have to think." Allison's mouth dropped open, indicating such a task was hopeless. She had always had a recessive chin, Florence thought bitterly, tempted to suggest she look into plastic surgery. "Let me think about it. I'll ask Archie." Allison rose, leaving the table a disaster of goo and crumbs. "Do you have enough cash, Florence? I should probably get going and I don't see the waitress anywhere in sight. Archie'll kill me if I'm not all packed. He gets so nervous before a flight." She wheeled the stroller toward the elevator door, then stopped and turned around. "Are you going to Kathy's baby shower?"
"Who?"
"Katherine—Katherine Monckton. It's the night after we get back—her baby's due a couple of days later."
"I didn't even know she was pregnant! Who's the father?"
"Remember that guy she used to go out with, when we were all friends? She got back together with him. She says she doesn't want to marry him, though—I guess she doesn't want to have to end up paying alimony. Anyway, I can't believe you weren't invited. I'm speaking to Victoria before I leave; she's giving the party. I'll make sure she invites you."
She wasn't sure if Allison's attitude was one of noblesse oblige or if she was just being paranoid. With a regal wave Allison turned away and pushed her carriage into the waiting elevator. And reflected back at Florence on the mirrored walls were a thousand Allisons, with her thousand chattering faces; a thousand Plum-buns, sullen in their thousand strollers; a thousand shopping bags, each matte black, pale gray tissue spilling out the top, reflecting a million dollars.
----
The drinks and cakes came to thirty-two dollars.
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