nervous glances, and Wyatt seemed to have completely forgotten that she came from Germany. His fingers were playing a little tune above and below her waist. She leaned closer, wishing they were alone and could kiss.
“Oh Christ,”
he muttered. His hand fell, and he moved away from her.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s them.”
“Them?”
“The Leventhals.”
The elderly couple coming towards them must have witnessed the by-play. Their faces were long with disapproval before recognition dawned. Then the thin woman stumble a little and the straightbacked grey-haired gentleman gripped”er elbow.
The four of them made an island in the thronging crowd of pedestrians.
“Good afternoon, Mr Kingsmith.”
Judge Leventhal raised his hat.
“So we meet again.”
“Always swell to bump into you, Judge.”
Wyatt spoke with a trace of sarcasm.
“Mrs Leventhal, allow me to present my cousin, Miss Kingsmith.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
Kathe said automatically.
“You are from England, Miss Kingsmith?”
asked the judge.
“Our grandfather is.”
She flushed. Our? This elderly man looking down his narrow nose at her was Wyatt’s grandfather.
“But I was born in Berlin.”
“Berlin?”
The judge’s expression showed a fraction more cordiality.
“My father is in business there. My mother comes from near Potsdam.”
“I know the Potsdam area quite well. What was her maiden name?”
71
‘Von Graetz.”
“Are you by any chance connected to the late Graf Walther von Graetz?”
“He was my grandfather.”
“Is that so! I had the honour of his acquaintance. Yes, you do resemble him.”
The oval silver frame on Clothilde’s bureau showed the grandfather whom Kathe had never met to have been a bald old man with a white Kaiser Wilhelm moustache that extended over his pendulous jowls.
There was an awkward pause. Tipping his Homburg, Judge Leventhal bowed and repeated his pleasure at seeing Wyatt, meeting Kathe. As the elderly couple moved on, Mrs Leventhal said something inaudible to her husband, he put his hand under her arm again, and they moved at a slow, laboured pace in the direction of Central Park. Wyatt watched them disappear into the crowd. His mouth was twisted into the acid unhappy smile that Kathe had seen so often during the Games.
V
The first two weeks of their holiday melted away. As far as Araminta was concerned, Kathe’s continued turndown of dates with Charlie’s friends was the only flaw amid Manhattan’s shops, nightclubs and theatres.
Finally, after one refusal too many, Araminta said:
“It’s high time you faced the facts.”
“
“Minta, I don’t want to go to the 21.”
“You’re evading the point. Wyatt’s having a bit of a summer romance with you.”
Araminta formed an odd gritted little smile. While it was only too clear to her that Wyatt, a lady’s man, had no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on their highly sheltered cousin’s impressionable heart, at the same time she was honest enough to accept that a strong hint of jealousy was mixed in with her concern.
“Americans do love to lead a girl on.”
Kathe looked down at the rose-patterned carpet of the guestroom.
“I know he’s not any more serious than you are with Charlie.”
“As I said, a summer romance. Well, at least I’ve warned you.”
After that Araminta refused to let anything deter her pleasure.
Humphrey and Rossie owned a roomy, ugly grey clapboard house on Cape Cod, and here they spent every August. This year, though, they had decided to forgo their quiet relaxation and treat their nieces to a tour of the Eastern Seaboard in the big Packard. Wyatt had volunteered to drive.
72
At nine on the last morning before their trip, Kathe and Wyatt, having run in Central Park, were showered, dressed and drinking orange juice. Araminta, who seldom got home
“Oh Christ,”
he muttered. His hand fell, and he moved away from her.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s them.”
“Them?”
“The Leventhals.”
The elderly couple coming towards them must have witnessed the by-play. Their faces were long with disapproval before recognition dawned. Then the thin woman stumble a little and the straightbacked grey-haired gentleman gripped”er elbow.
The four of them made an island in the thronging crowd of pedestrians.
“Good afternoon, Mr Kingsmith.”
Judge Leventhal raised his hat.
“So we meet again.”
“Always swell to bump into you, Judge.”
Wyatt spoke with a trace of sarcasm.
“Mrs Leventhal, allow me to present my cousin, Miss Kingsmith.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
Kathe said automatically.
“You are from England, Miss Kingsmith?”
asked the judge.
“Our grandfather is.”
She flushed. Our? This elderly man looking down his narrow nose at her was Wyatt’s grandfather.
“But I was born in Berlin.”
“Berlin?”
The judge’s expression showed a fraction more cordiality.
“My father is in business there. My mother comes from near Potsdam.”
“I know the Potsdam area quite well. What was her maiden name?”
71
‘Von Graetz.”
“Are you by any chance connected to the late Graf Walther von Graetz?”
“He was my grandfather.”
“Is that so! I had the honour of his acquaintance. Yes, you do resemble him.”
The oval silver frame on Clothilde’s bureau showed the grandfather whom Kathe had never met to have been a bald old man with a white Kaiser Wilhelm moustache that extended over his pendulous jowls.
There was an awkward pause. Tipping his Homburg, Judge Leventhal bowed and repeated his pleasure at seeing Wyatt, meeting Kathe. As the elderly couple moved on, Mrs Leventhal said something inaudible to her husband, he put his hand under her arm again, and they moved at a slow, laboured pace in the direction of Central Park. Wyatt watched them disappear into the crowd. His mouth was twisted into the acid unhappy smile that Kathe had seen so often during the Games.
V
The first two weeks of their holiday melted away. As far as Araminta was concerned, Kathe’s continued turndown of dates with Charlie’s friends was the only flaw amid Manhattan’s shops, nightclubs and theatres.
Finally, after one refusal too many, Araminta said:
“It’s high time you faced the facts.”
“
“Minta, I don’t want to go to the 21.”
“You’re evading the point. Wyatt’s having a bit of a summer romance with you.”
Araminta formed an odd gritted little smile. While it was only too clear to her that Wyatt, a lady’s man, had no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on their highly sheltered cousin’s impressionable heart, at the same time she was honest enough to accept that a strong hint of jealousy was mixed in with her concern.
“Americans do love to lead a girl on.”
Kathe looked down at the rose-patterned carpet of the guestroom.
“I know he’s not any more serious than you are with Charlie.”
“As I said, a summer romance. Well, at least I’ve warned you.”
After that Araminta refused to let anything deter her pleasure.
Humphrey and Rossie owned a roomy, ugly grey clapboard house on Cape Cod, and here they spent every August. This year, though, they had decided to forgo their quiet relaxation and treat their nieces to a tour of the Eastern Seaboard in the big Packard. Wyatt had volunteered to drive.
72
At nine on the last morning before their trip, Kathe and Wyatt, having run in Central Park, were showered, dressed and drinking orange juice. Araminta, who seldom got home
Similar Books
