“But of course you are.”
“My sister is seventeen,” I went on. “She used to go by Val, but now everyone calls her Valentine. It’s much more appropriate.”
“Theo told me there were two sisters. She said the older one was supposed to be very beautiful but that from what she could gather the younger one was more interesting. I can tell she was right, Franny … May I call you Franny?”
“Certainly.”
There was a pause, and we considered the drinks menu. Leander got scotch and soda, and I got a soda and bitters, which is nonalcoholic but not sweet. I didn’t want to order a sweet drink in front of Leander. Val would have done that; she would have had no sense of subtlety. Here we were at the Sherry-Netherland. I couldn’t sit there sipping a Shirley Temple for Lord’s sake.
It was starting to occur to me that for an old man Leander was rather handsome. He had a fine, sharp profile and his white hair had a kind of crispness to it. Actually he reminded me of the Sherry-Netherland itself. He had this old-time elegance, wearing white linen trousers and a brown seersucker blazer, a bit frayed around the cuffs. His butterscotch-colored loafers were old and obviously Italian. Since this summer in New York, I was beginning to be able to identify these things.
“Theo bought me these shoes,” he told me. “This one time, in Florence. She was always very generous with her money and I’ve never had a penny. She was having an affair with a count—”
“A count ?”
“Why yes. And a handsome young waiter or two.” He laughed.
“How did you meet Theo?”
“In Paris. Spring of ’63, at a café under the flowering chestnut trees. Do you know the French word for chestnut tree, by the way? It’s very beautiful…”
“Le châtaignier,” I answered promptly. Leander looked surprised, so “Val and I go to French school,” I explained.
“Of course you do, you creature of Salinger, you! Anyway, I met Theo in Paris in the spring of ’63 under the flowering chestnut trees. She had just graduated from Radcliffe and was in Paris working as a runway model. Now that I think of it, her hair was rather like your hair, the same haircut. Very becoming if a girl has good bones.”
I was about to tell him I’d gotten the haircut today and that it was Clover who’d suggested it, but then I decided to let him think I had come up with the idea all on my own. It was better that way.
“Her lips were pale and her eyes were dark. That was the fashion then. But what I remember most about Theo, that afternoon, apart from her considerable beauty, was that she had been crying. There were teardrops on those black Mod lashes of hers. I went up to her and introduced myself. She said, ‘It’s no good talking to me, whoever you are. I’ve been weeping.’ I said, ‘But I am always weeping.’ She laughed and after that we were fast friends.”
“Lovers?” I tried to make the word sound casual.
“Actually, no. Not that I wasn’t quite in love with her, at first. Any man would have been. But it was Paris in the spring in that golden era and love was mine for the taking. Oh, the girls crossing the avenues in their plaid skirts, their blue striped dresses! When it rained they wore trench coats…”
“What has become of the trench coat?” I asked, imitating Leander. He laughed his crazy laugh, and this time I liked it because I knew he thought I was being witty.
“What indeed? Well anyway. Theo and I were friends and friendship is something altogether different from love. In a way, one finds, it’s much rarer … more precious.”
Now this, this was incredible to me. Friendship rare ? But back in San Francisco, Val and I had so many friends. Girlfriends were ordinary everyday entities. Love was the miracle. I tried saying so to Leander. He sighed and asked me: “How old are you again?”
“Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen in February.”
“Oh, you’ll live a lot between now and then, don’t worry. By the time
“My sister is seventeen,” I went on. “She used to go by Val, but now everyone calls her Valentine. It’s much more appropriate.”
“Theo told me there were two sisters. She said the older one was supposed to be very beautiful but that from what she could gather the younger one was more interesting. I can tell she was right, Franny … May I call you Franny?”
“Certainly.”
There was a pause, and we considered the drinks menu. Leander got scotch and soda, and I got a soda and bitters, which is nonalcoholic but not sweet. I didn’t want to order a sweet drink in front of Leander. Val would have done that; she would have had no sense of subtlety. Here we were at the Sherry-Netherland. I couldn’t sit there sipping a Shirley Temple for Lord’s sake.
It was starting to occur to me that for an old man Leander was rather handsome. He had a fine, sharp profile and his white hair had a kind of crispness to it. Actually he reminded me of the Sherry-Netherland itself. He had this old-time elegance, wearing white linen trousers and a brown seersucker blazer, a bit frayed around the cuffs. His butterscotch-colored loafers were old and obviously Italian. Since this summer in New York, I was beginning to be able to identify these things.
“Theo bought me these shoes,” he told me. “This one time, in Florence. She was always very generous with her money and I’ve never had a penny. She was having an affair with a count—”
“A count ?”
“Why yes. And a handsome young waiter or two.” He laughed.
“How did you meet Theo?”
“In Paris. Spring of ’63, at a café under the flowering chestnut trees. Do you know the French word for chestnut tree, by the way? It’s very beautiful…”
“Le châtaignier,” I answered promptly. Leander looked surprised, so “Val and I go to French school,” I explained.
“Of course you do, you creature of Salinger, you! Anyway, I met Theo in Paris in the spring of ’63 under the flowering chestnut trees. She had just graduated from Radcliffe and was in Paris working as a runway model. Now that I think of it, her hair was rather like your hair, the same haircut. Very becoming if a girl has good bones.”
I was about to tell him I’d gotten the haircut today and that it was Clover who’d suggested it, but then I decided to let him think I had come up with the idea all on my own. It was better that way.
“Her lips were pale and her eyes were dark. That was the fashion then. But what I remember most about Theo, that afternoon, apart from her considerable beauty, was that she had been crying. There were teardrops on those black Mod lashes of hers. I went up to her and introduced myself. She said, ‘It’s no good talking to me, whoever you are. I’ve been weeping.’ I said, ‘But I am always weeping.’ She laughed and after that we were fast friends.”
“Lovers?” I tried to make the word sound casual.
“Actually, no. Not that I wasn’t quite in love with her, at first. Any man would have been. But it was Paris in the spring in that golden era and love was mine for the taking. Oh, the girls crossing the avenues in their plaid skirts, their blue striped dresses! When it rained they wore trench coats…”
“What has become of the trench coat?” I asked, imitating Leander. He laughed his crazy laugh, and this time I liked it because I knew he thought I was being witty.
“What indeed? Well anyway. Theo and I were friends and friendship is something altogether different from love. In a way, one finds, it’s much rarer … more precious.”
Now this, this was incredible to me. Friendship rare ? But back in San Francisco, Val and I had so many friends. Girlfriends were ordinary everyday entities. Love was the miracle. I tried saying so to Leander. He sighed and asked me: “How old are you again?”
“Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen in February.”
“Oh, you’ll live a lot between now and then, don’t worry. By the time
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