walked toward the sunroom and there was nothing he could do but follow.
It was a beautiful day, breezy and not too hot. Someone had opened the windows and the silk curtains blew against the panes.
“We were just saying that you should come to the Buffingtons tonight, Guy. I’m sure I could get you an invitation,” Teddy said.
Teddy had barely procured an invitation for himself and his two cohorts. Was he now going to call Veronica and ask if he could bring another guest?
“Actually,” Guy said, “Glenda invited me.”
Miranda sat up straight and turned to Guy.
“You know Glenda?” she asked.
“I met her a few years ago at a cancer benefit.”
“Really. What do you think of her?” Miranda leaned forward. This pose showed off what minimal cleavage she could muster.
“She’s a little quiet for my taste,” Guy said.
“That’s exactly what I think. She reads too much, just like Jane.”
“Reading’s not a bad thing,” Guy said.
“Of course not, per se, but really there is so much to do in the world.” She sat up and lifted her chin. “Of course, I like to keep up with politics and the like.”
“I should loan you my new
“Ten years later than what?” Miranda asked.
Guy poked at the inside of his cheek with his tongue and I poured him another cup of coffee.
“Cream?” I asked.
“Black,” he said.
We had magazines fanned out on the coffee table, and I wished, for a moment, that I had scooped them up and put them away.
Those were the magazines. This was my family. We were who we were. If Guy didn’t like it, he could leave. In his Brooks Brothers sweater with his three-hundred-dollar sunglasses hanging around his neck, he didn’t look like he spent too much time worried about Rwanda either.
“Jane’s not coming to the party tonight,” Miranda said.
“Really, why not?”
“Previous engagement,” I said.
“Is it a man?” Guy teased. He looked at me and his smile was mischievous.
“Are you kidding,” Miranda said. “I can’t think of the last time Jane had a date. She’s having dinner with the baker.”
Guy held his coffee with both hands and took a sip. He stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. Though the rest of him was still, his feet moved in small circles. Priscilla had once told me that moving your feet like that was just like wringing your hands. It had been a habit of mine, but I’d broken it.
Dolores came in. She had been to the hairdresser and her hair was back to its unnatural blond. She had bought, as I’d predicted, just the right sundresses and cover-ups to camouflage her thickening thighs.
“Hello, dear,” Teddy said. Guy looked at him. He was obviously trying to gauge where Dolores fit into this picture.
“So this must be Winnie,” Guy said. He knew this wasn’t Winnie. He’d met Winnie, however briefly, on the mountain.
“No, no. This is our friend Dolores Mudd,” Teddy said.
I noticed that he hadn’t called her Miranda’s friend.
Dolores held out her hand in a limp way, as if waiting to have it kissed.
Miranda introduced Guy. I was waiting for Dolores to pull out something as antiquated as “charmed,” and I’m sure she would have if she thought she could have gotten away with it, but Guy exuded an intelligence that didn’t sanction Dolores’s synthetic charm.
“Nice to meet you, Guy,” she said. She looked at the coffee tray. “Should I make fresh coffee?”
“Dolores, you are so thoughtful. What would we do without you?” Teddy said.
“I just made it,” I said.
Teddy leaned over and poured coffee for Dolores. He poured the milk in, then handed it to her.
“Thank you, Teddy,” Dolores said. She sat in the chair closest to his. She was careful to pull the short sarong she was wearing as a skirt into a flattering position.
“So are you all going to the beach today?” Guy asked. “My suit is in the car.”
“Jane never comes with us,” Miranda said.
Guy turned so his knees were facing me.
“Won’t you come today?” he asked.
I didn’t like going to the beach with a crowd. I had a quiet, hidden place where I went alone with my books, my journal, and a thermos of iced tea.
“She’s such a spoilsport,” Miranda said.
“I’m not as bad as all that,” I said.
“So you’ll come?” Guy asked.
Bethany packed a picnic, and I joined the family, the chairs, the coolers, the beach umbrellas, the towels, and the multiple tubes of sunscreen.
As we walked down the beach to find a spot, Miranda and Teddy waved to people, pausing here and there to chat. Miranda stopped to talk to a stocky man in a Speedo. It’s debatable whether American men should ever be allowed to wear Speedos in public, but I don’t think there’s any debate as to whether fat men should wear them, and this was a fat man.
“That’s Joe Tonic. He has a Learjet,” Miranda said when she rejoined us. My father and Guy looked over at Joe Tonic. That explained a lot. A jet could make up for any number of unsightly bulges.
When we were finally settled on the beach, we took up considerable space. Between us, we had four blankets, three beach umbrellas, five chairs, and two coolers.
I settled in a low chair on the edge of our encampment. I was wearing a new bathing suit, a blue one-piece, and since I didn’t often wear a bathing suit in public, I kept my T-shirt on over it. I pulled a book from my bag and propped it on my knees. Guy sat down beside me. He wasn’t wearing a Speedo, though he might easily have gotten away with one. The sun beat down hard and the morning breeze disappeared with the afternoon.
“I’m going to fry,” Miranda said. She slathered herself with sunscreen, then took an enormous black hat from her bag. The hat shaded her diamond necklace, but her tennis bracelets sparkled in the sun.
Dolores took a thermos from the picnic basket.
“Lemonade, anyone?”
“Dolores is so thoughtful,” Teddy said. “Don’t you think she’s thoughtful, Guy?”
“Very,” Guy said.
Miranda reached out a languid hand and Dolores deposited a plastic cup into it. Miranda took a sip, then spit it into the sand.
“This is nonalcoholic,” she complained.
Dolores looked at my father and he nodded.
“We have some vodka,” Dolores said. She took out a plastic bottle.
“Well, give it here. What are you waiting for?”
“Lemonade, Jane?” Dolores was playing the lady of the house. Guy looked at her. He reached over, took a cup, and handed it to me. When his hand touched mine, his fingers lingered. I hadn’t received this kind of attention in some time and couldn’t help but find it titillating.
“What are you reading?” Guy asked.
I wasn’t reading anything because, though that had been my intention, Guy was sitting too close and talking
