Jackie, Ethel, Joan: Women of Camelot by J. Randy Taraborrelli Page B

whatever she likes, don’t you agree? Now, personally, I would never do anything like that. But how utterly clever of her.”
    To another guest, Jackie said, “How refreshing it will be to know someone who has no interest whatsoever in im- pressing anyone with her fashion taste.”
    When Jackie and Ethel finally met for the first time, their exchange was unmemorable, chilly and brief. Jackie stayed to herself for the rest of the evening, not mingling but rather seeming to pose regally in front of the roaring fireplace—a perfect picture. The way she had positioned herself she had everyone’s attention, and so for the next hour Jack fetched his senatorial friends and brought them over to make her ac- quaintance. All the while, Ethel eyed Jackie, muttering to Bobby that the Bouvier interloper was trying to pull the room’s focus to her. “It’s not my imagination,” she was overheard saying angrily. Finally, long before any of the other invitees, Jackie walked over to Ethel and Bobby and told them that she had to go.
    “Before dinner?” Ethel was flabbergasted. “But we have a wonderful meal prepared.”
    Jack was already helping Jackie with her fur as she apol- ogized and said that she had “the most dreadful headache ever.” As much as she wanted to stay, she said, she couldn’t. Jackie then walked through the small crowd, shaking
    hands and kissing cheeks as if she were royalty. After she had bid adieu to everyone, Jack escorted her to the front door and to her waiting Rolls. Some of Ethel’s guests peered through the front windows to watch with mesmerized ex- pressions as the uniformed chauffeur popped out of the dri- ver’s side of the car, whipped around to the other side, and opened the door for Jackie. After she had gotten into the au- tomobile, he closed the door and ran back to the driver’s seat. As the car started to pull away, Jackie rolled down the window and grandly waved farewell to her fans in Ethel’s living room.
    “Well, I never . . .” Ethel said, not bothering to hide her fury.
    “Clearly,” Bobby said, his eye twinkling. He was taken with Jack’s new girlfriend and liked her from the start.
    Later, over dinner, Ethel still couldn’t get over what had occurred with Jackie. “Jack-leen,” she observed as she and her guests discussed Jack’s new girlfriend. “Rhymes with ‘queen,’ doesn’t it?” It was a stolen quip, actually; Eunice had already said it after meeting Jackie for the first time.
    Still, Jack was amused by the observation. “Seems rather appropriate, doesn’t it?” he said.
    The next day, Jackie sent Ethel a letter. “I had such a won- derful time,” she wrote in her difficult-to-read backhand. “So many fascinating people, so much wonderful conversa- tion. And you, Ethel, were the most perfect hostess, so lov- ley [ sic ], and so beautiful in your greenery. I thank you so much for inviting me, and I feel absolutely dreadful that I had to leave in such a completely inappropriate rush.”
    Upon receipt of the note, Ethel found herself confused about “Jack-leen.” Anyone who complimented her on one of her parties was definitely a person Ethel appreciated and
    wanted in her circle. However, because Jackie had also proved herself to be a scene-stealer, Ethel didn’t know whether to love her or loathe her. Of course, in years to come, Ethel’s predicament would be one in which many people would find themselves when it came to Jackie.
    Despite the letter Ethel had received—which, because it was so confounding to her, she shared with anyone—most of her friends were appalled by Jackie’s behavior at the gathering. However Ethel, never one to conform, decided to take an opposing point of view. “You know what? I like her,” she said approvingly. “I really do. I like her nerve. My mother would get a kick out of her, too.”
    A week later, as Ethel and Jackie enjoyed lunch together in a Washington restaurant, Jackie gifted her with a pin: a delicate