The Other Side of Love by Jacqueline Briskin

around Central Park early in the morning. But can’t you see? He’s obligated to show us the town.”
    She paused.
    “Charlie tells me his friend looks rather a bit like Robert Taylor, and rumbas like an Argentinian.”
     
    Kathe said nothing.
     
    “That s your stubborn Kingsmith look, darling,”
    Araminta said.
    “Katy, do be sensible. Wyatt’s divine, but he’s our cousin. He is our cousin. And he had his own girlfriends. Explain to him that you’ll do the ferry some afternoon. Say that we’re going to the Colony for
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    dinner - I’m positive I can wheedle the boys into taking us.”
     
    There was a loud knocking on the changing-room door.
     
    “People are waiting,”
    Kathe said.
     
    Outside on Lexington Avenue, the heat hit them like a blast from a hair-dryer.
     
    “I can’t carry all these things another step,”
    Araminta said, waving a hatbox at a yellow cab. She gave the address of Kingsmith’s in the Dejong Plaza.
     
    Two days ago, when Kathe had first seen the Fifth Avenue Kingsmith’s, she had been astounded. Though she had known the New York branch was highly profitable, she had assumed it would be the American version of the branch on Unter den Linden. Instead, it was far larger and more posh than the main Bond Street shop; almost a department store.
     
    A series of curved alcoves formed bays to browse tranquilly over shelves of silver, china, crystal. A deep inset held three bridal-registry tables presided over by handsomely dressed Social Register matrons forced by the Depression into the genteel job-market. Beyond the pair of small elevators which carried customers upstairs to buy less formal dinnerware, linens and stationery, a half-dozen steps led down into a subtly lit area that resembled a drawingroom. Here reproductions of Georgian breakfronts held antique silver, ivory and jade. The finest pieces, however, were kept in Humphrey’s luxurious office, giving buyers the sense that they were purchasing a unique item from Mr Kingsmith’s personal collection.
     
    Rossie’s office was seen only by the staff and manufacturers”
    representatives. Tear-sheets of recent advertisements were taped to the walls; the battered desk was piled with catalogues and ledgers. The pair of sagging armchairs had been discarded from the flat.
     
    Wyatt was lounging in one. As Araminta and Kathe came in, he rose with an approving whistle.
    “Wow!”
     
    Rossie was also enthusiastic.
    “You girls have a real eye.”
     
    “It’s all Araminta,”
    Kathe said. The doorman was bearing in the rest of their packages.
    “Wait until you see the gorgeous bargains she fished from the racks.”
     
    “Later.”
    Rossie glanced at her wristwatch.
    “I have to get out on the floor. Mrs Van Vliet is here from the coast. A very good customer. Her secretary telephoned ahead to make an appointment.”
     
    She hurried away, and Humphrey appeared.
    “You girls have to take a closer look at the bridal registry,”
    he said.
    “There’s nothing like it in the world.”
     
    “Wyatt,”
    Araminta said, taking Wyatt’s arm, holding him back.
    “I need a word with you.”
     
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    When the two of them caught up with Humphrey and Kathe in the bridal registry, Wyatt cocked an eyebrow, moving his head in the direction of the traffic on Fifth Avenue.
    “Kathe, want to take in the view from the top of the Empire State Building? It’s really something when the sun’s setting.”
     
    Araminta darted him an angry look.
     
    IV
    “Why was
    “Minta upset?”
    Kathe asked.
     
    “She says I’m toying with you.”
    He put his arm around her waist.
    “In that dress, with your hair done up on top of your head, you look terrifyingly spectacular. Mind if I toy just a little bit?”
     
    The Fifth Avenue sidewalk glittered beneath Kathe’s new black patent sandals, and the crowd moved in a haze of sunlit motes. The only uniforms in sight were worn by doormen, children were merrily disorderly, nobody darted