middle one was the largest, I could now tell, but not by much.
She caught my drift. “Vulgar, isn’t it?” She laughed and turned her hand this way and that, a contented smile curling her mouth. “The first one he gave me was a joke, one stone, maybe two carats at most. I took it back myself and picked out this one. Don’t you adore it?”
“It’s magnificent.”
She laughed again. “Ha. Don’t choke on it. I’m guessing my ring isn’t your style at all, if I know my Lily. You who still summer on at Seaview year after goddamned year and likely haven’t bought a new pair of shoes since 1935. I’ll bet it’s all you can do to keep your head from shaking in disapproval right now. That Budgie, you’re thinking.”
“I . . .”
Budgie straightened and turned, as if tapped on the shoulder, and I looked back and saw a middle-aged woman walking across the terrace toward us, her black-and-white uniform etched crisply in the sun.
“Hello, Mrs. Ridge,” said Budgie. “What is it?”
“Telephone for you, ma’am. It’s Mr. Greenwald.”
Budgie dropped her cigarette into the ashtray, folded her napkin in an elongated triangle next to her plate, and rose to her feet. “Excuse me a moment, won’t you, darling?”
In the vacuum of Budgie’s absence, my thoughts suspended themselves. The terrace had grown hot in the midday sun, capturing warmth within its microscopic fissures, until I was surrounded in heat like a caterpillar in a cocoon, drawing down the last of my cigarette, the gin just beginning to curl around my brain. A fly hovered over my untouched sandwich, buzzing drowsily, while in the house Budgie talked to Nick on the telephone, probably twirling the cord about her finger, probably smiling the way new brides smiled. A hundred and fifty miles away, in New York City, Nick sat at the desk in his office and answered her.
I couldn’t bear it anymore.
On the dock, Kiki kicked her feet into the water. Her ribbon was coming loose, drooping in a spill of white down the side of her cheek. I stubbed out my cigarette and rose and walked toward her, my speed increasing at every step, until I was nearly at a run. A pair of gulls screamed at me from the pilings and took off into the air.
“What’s the matter?” Kiki asked, looking up over her shoulder.
“It’s time to go, sweetheart. Mrs. Greenwald is busy with the house, and I have a meeting with Mrs. Hubert.” I held out my hand.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. She took my hand and stood up. She was warm from the sun, and smelled of water and wood.
We reached the terrace just as Budgie came through the French door. “You’re not leaving?” she asked.
“We must, I’m afraid. Thank you so much for lunch. I enjoyed catching up.”
“But we didn’t, not really. We were just getting to the interesting bits. I told Nick he shouldn’t interrupt us.”
“Did you have a nice chat?”
“Not at all. These nasty party lines, out in the country. One can’t say a single important thing. I’m sure half the receivers were up, all along the Neck.” She held open the door for us. “Come along, then.”
We passed back through the house, through the dust and hammering and the smell of mustiness being chased away by the ocean breeze. Kiki skipped down the path, shoes and socks in her hand, and crossed the lane to the beach.
“Nick’s such a darling, though,” said Budgie, folding her arms and watching Kiki. “He phones me constantly. He feels dreadfully that I’m so alone.”
“He’s very good.”
“We’ll have to find someone for you, Lily. In fact, I’ve made it my project. I had a wonderful thought, a real brain wave, just as I was speaking to Nick.”
“You shouldn’t bother, really. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
“Everyone has time for love , darling!” She kissed my cheek. “Just you wait, Lily Dane. Just you wait and see what I’m cooking up in this old kitchen of mine.”
I didn’t answer. I
She caught my drift. “Vulgar, isn’t it?” She laughed and turned her hand this way and that, a contented smile curling her mouth. “The first one he gave me was a joke, one stone, maybe two carats at most. I took it back myself and picked out this one. Don’t you adore it?”
“It’s magnificent.”
She laughed again. “Ha. Don’t choke on it. I’m guessing my ring isn’t your style at all, if I know my Lily. You who still summer on at Seaview year after goddamned year and likely haven’t bought a new pair of shoes since 1935. I’ll bet it’s all you can do to keep your head from shaking in disapproval right now. That Budgie, you’re thinking.”
“I . . .”
Budgie straightened and turned, as if tapped on the shoulder, and I looked back and saw a middle-aged woman walking across the terrace toward us, her black-and-white uniform etched crisply in the sun.
“Hello, Mrs. Ridge,” said Budgie. “What is it?”
“Telephone for you, ma’am. It’s Mr. Greenwald.”
Budgie dropped her cigarette into the ashtray, folded her napkin in an elongated triangle next to her plate, and rose to her feet. “Excuse me a moment, won’t you, darling?”
In the vacuum of Budgie’s absence, my thoughts suspended themselves. The terrace had grown hot in the midday sun, capturing warmth within its microscopic fissures, until I was surrounded in heat like a caterpillar in a cocoon, drawing down the last of my cigarette, the gin just beginning to curl around my brain. A fly hovered over my untouched sandwich, buzzing drowsily, while in the house Budgie talked to Nick on the telephone, probably twirling the cord about her finger, probably smiling the way new brides smiled. A hundred and fifty miles away, in New York City, Nick sat at the desk in his office and answered her.
I couldn’t bear it anymore.
On the dock, Kiki kicked her feet into the water. Her ribbon was coming loose, drooping in a spill of white down the side of her cheek. I stubbed out my cigarette and rose and walked toward her, my speed increasing at every step, until I was nearly at a run. A pair of gulls screamed at me from the pilings and took off into the air.
“What’s the matter?” Kiki asked, looking up over her shoulder.
“It’s time to go, sweetheart. Mrs. Greenwald is busy with the house, and I have a meeting with Mrs. Hubert.” I held out my hand.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. She took my hand and stood up. She was warm from the sun, and smelled of water and wood.
We reached the terrace just as Budgie came through the French door. “You’re not leaving?” she asked.
“We must, I’m afraid. Thank you so much for lunch. I enjoyed catching up.”
“But we didn’t, not really. We were just getting to the interesting bits. I told Nick he shouldn’t interrupt us.”
“Did you have a nice chat?”
“Not at all. These nasty party lines, out in the country. One can’t say a single important thing. I’m sure half the receivers were up, all along the Neck.” She held open the door for us. “Come along, then.”
We passed back through the house, through the dust and hammering and the smell of mustiness being chased away by the ocean breeze. Kiki skipped down the path, shoes and socks in her hand, and crossed the lane to the beach.
“Nick’s such a darling, though,” said Budgie, folding her arms and watching Kiki. “He phones me constantly. He feels dreadfully that I’m so alone.”
“He’s very good.”
“We’ll have to find someone for you, Lily. In fact, I’ve made it my project. I had a wonderful thought, a real brain wave, just as I was speaking to Nick.”
“You shouldn’t bother, really. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
“Everyone has time for love , darling!” She kissed my cheek. “Just you wait, Lily Dane. Just you wait and see what I’m cooking up in this old kitchen of mine.”
I didn’t answer. I
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