Max returned to August, then brought her over to me and introduced us.
“This is Jane,” he said.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she said.
Miranda was still looking at Max, but eventually she had to turn away. She had guests. And for an inveterate party-giver, having guests was more important than any other concern.
Priscilla came over to us.
“Jane dear, I haven’t seen you all day. I wanted to tell you that last night when I went up to bed there was a huge manuscript on my nightstand.”
Oh God. Guy’s book. I had forgotten all about it. In fact, I had forgotten all about Guy. He didn’t know that I’d changed rooms, so, of course, he left his manuscript in the room he thought was mine.
“Well,” Priscilla went on, “I had nothing to read so I started to read it, and I have to say, it’s absolutely dreadful. Pornographic, really. I couldn’t find a cover page. Whose is it? Do you know? Do people often sneak pornographic material into your room?”
“It’s Guy’s book, Priscilla.”
She looked confused.
“Guy Callow’s,” I said.
“That nice man has all that rubbish lurking inside him. I’m horrified. Really horrified. And I’m no prude, as you well know.” She smiled at Max so he would know too.
Guy appeared from across the living room. He must have just arrived. He came over to where we were standing and put his arm around my shoulders.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Guy,” I said.
“Do what?” he asked, all innocent.
“Put your arm around me like that—act like we have some kind of special relationship. We don’t. I should have made it clear long ago, and I blame myself, but I was just trying to be polite. Really, though, you shouldn’t paw at me. I don’t like it.”
Guy took his arm away but seemed otherwise undaunted.
“Could we go somewhere and talk in private?” he asked.
“It’s not convenient.” I never intended to have a private talk with him, so I was still just being polite. When does civility stop being a good thing and become a way of never saying what you mean?
He leaned in toward me without touching.
“So did you read the book?” he asked.
“I read it,” Priscilla broke in. “You left it in my room, not Jane’s. I read as much of it as I could stomach.”
Guy stood very straight.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“You, young man, have a filthy mind. And I was just beginning to warm to you. You have lovely manners and you can be very ingratiating, but something prurient lies beneath the surface—I can tell you that.”
“I can see where an old lady might think so,” Guy said. His veneer was crumbling. Priscilla didn’t say a word. “Jane will have to read it. It’s Jane’s opinion I wanted, not yours. Everyone knows that you’re a negative old bitch with very little nice to say about anyone. I wouldn’t be inclined to listen to you.”
I thought Priscilla might fall over. She wasn’t used to being talked to that way. Guy, after delivering his speech, seemed at a loss. In our antiquated little hothouse atmosphere, our manners held everything together. We all stood for a moment, saying nothing.
Then Isabelle appeared at the door. Her thick dark hair was pinned up and she was wearing a wraparound dress that emphasized her curves.
“What’s she doing here?” Guy asked.
“You know her?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“I knew her. A long time ago.”
Miranda came over to us.
“Who’s that?” she asked. “I didn’t invite her.”
“That’s Isabelle,” I said.
“The baker?”
“The baker.”
“Who invited her?”
“I did.”
“Why on earth?” Miranda asked.
“Because I wanted her here.”
When I turned around, Guy was gone.
“Was I ever wrong about him!” Priscilla said, and moved away toward Teddy and Vee.
When Isabelle walked across the room, every male eye was on her. She smiled and kissed me. I introduced her to Max.
After a few more minutes, Max turned to me. “You ready?”
I nodded. I’d been ready for longer than I cared to think about.
Max led me toward the center of the room where Teddy, Vee, Priscilla, Duke, Winnie, Charlie, and Dolores had congregated. I didn’t see Guy, but I knew he was hovering somewhere, maybe watching from the upstairs landing.
Max laced his fingers through mine.
“Everyone,” he said, “we have an announcement.”
Chapter 38
So that’s the end of the story.
I can’t tell you that I lived happily ever after, because I’m still waiting to find out, but I have great faith that I might.
The fallout from the announcement of my engagement to Max was gratifying. Because we made it in the middle of the party, everyone, even those who felt otherwise, had to pretend they were happy for us. That was one benefit of our social structure, and though it might be crumbling, it had yet to collapse entirely.
In Miranda’s dash to be the first to hug me, she came at me with such force she knocked me into Max and the two of us would have toppled into the fireplace had Isabelle not put out a steadying hand.
Guy disappeared from the party and we have never seen him again. I did take a look at his manuscript and I didn’t mind the pornographic parts so much, but the book was poorly written. I had Tad mail it back to him with a short note.
After the party, just before bed, Priscilla knocked on the door to my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and took my hand.
“Jane dear, I think you are making a mistake. You hardly know this man. Do you know that in New York literary circles he’s known as a chronic womanizer?”
“I’ve heard,” I said.
“Listen, I think the best thing would be for you to come home with me. You can give this thing some thought. It’s so sudden.”
“Priscilla, it’s the furthest thing from sudden. It’s taken fifteen years.”
Priscilla pulled her flowery peignoir close around her body. The negligee was too young for her, but in her mind, it wouldn’t be right to wear something dowdy when she was visiting.
“It’s just that you know so little about men. You’ve always been so incompetent in that department.”
“Priscilla, listen to me. I am not incompetent when it comes to men or anything else. I never want to hear that again. Do you understand?”
She pulled back.
