Mitch and Laura watched this artful maneuver together, Mitch with a mild twinge of envy and Laura with raging jealousy. She almost swore at Charlie in her anger. Furious tears gathered in her eyes and her whole body was rigid with emotion. She hated Charlie for holding Beth, she hated Beth for letting herself be held, she hated the two of them for just being near each other. She was afraid to see them together; they had spoken too well of each other.
“My God, I thought I’d never make contact,” Beth was saying. “We’re over there.” She gestured vaguely behind her, still leaning on Charlie. “Emmy talked us into it. Uncle John is getting a lecture on jazz. Bud’s playing. Did you see him?”
“We saw him,” said Charlie.
Beth looked up into his face for the first time. “Hi,” she said. “You must be Charlie.” She leaned closer and studied him. “Yes, you are. I’d remember that face anywhere. I’m Beth Cullison.”
“Yes, I know.” He laughed, holding her a little tighter.
Laura could hardly contain herself. “And this is Mitch Grogan,” she said in a sharp, impatient voice.
“Hi, Mitch.” Beth leaned away from Charlie to take his hand. Then she said, “Come on back and sit with us. We’ve got loads of room.” She looked up at Charlie again.
“Sure,” he said, releasing her slowly. “Think you can make it?” He grinned.
Beth took a few steps away from him and then turned back and said with an air of injured dignity, “Certainly.”
Mitch and Charlie laughed at her, and then Charlie took Laura’s arm—he failed to notice how stiff and unwilling it was—and followed Beth back to the booth. Beth introduced the boys. Emily smiled beautifully at them.
“Well, now,” boomed Uncle John over the racket, “you children can sit together over here and I’ll sit next to Emmy. She’s a trombone widow tonight.” And he laughed at himself, getting up and moving over to Emily’s side.
Beth slid into the seat he had left and Laura nearly followed her in an effort to keep Charlie away.
“Whoa, my dear,” said Uncle John, catching her sleeve. “Let the gentleman in the middle.” She was furiously embarrassed.
Charlie sat between Beth and Laura, and Mitch settled next to Uncle John where he could gaze undisturbed across the table at Beth. He wasn’t the only interested party. Laura kept an anxious eye on her, and every time Charlie leaned over Beth to smile or say something Laura crawled with irritation. The loud music prevented her from hearing what they said to one another.
As for Beth, sitting next to Charlie and crowded tight against the wall, she was surprised by the size of him. His eyes were dark and his grin was wonderful and she began to feel inside her an almost forgotten excitement. It was too strong to fight and too sweet to ignore. She didn’t do anything about it; she just let it happen, and when after a while she felt his hand on her knee she let it stay there and smiled imperturbably across the booth at Uncle John.
But she was not as calm as she looked. The pressure of the warm firm hand on her leg exhilarated her and confused her at the same time. It had always taken Beth a while to react to a man; there were some she had never reacted to at all, in spite of the fact that she had allowed them to touch more than a knee. But from the moment Charlie’s arm had circled her waist she had felt an almost electric delight in him, in his touch and his presence. She almost resented it; she had tried so hard to give her affection to men she thought were worthy of it. But Charlie had done absolutely nothing to deserve it except touch her once or twice and talk to her a little. And that light touch, that low voice combined to thrill her strangely and bother her until she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her…or for the first time, something right.
Charlie’s hand tightened on her leg and moved up a little while he talked to her. And then it moved up a little more, as if he were asking questions with it that had nothing to do with the words he spoke. Beth sat quietly letting him do as he pleased, too bewildered, too secretly pleased to stop him. She found that his touch made her shy; and the farther his hand traveled the harder it was for her to meet his eyes. But when she did she saw a promise in them.
Laura could see nothing but she suspected everything and she sat beside them, angry and tormented. Her sharp nails crept up her arms and threatened to come down them cuttingly. She was so tense toward the end of the evening that she almost gave a little shriek when Uncle John finally said, “Well, we’d better be on our horses, children.” She wanted to get up and bolt.
They went their separate ways home and Laura was greatly relieved to get some distance between Beth and Charlie. She was silent in the car, still nettled, trying to think of a way to make Beth sorry for being nice to Charlie, to make her apologize for Laura didn’t know what. Her jealousy rode herd on her, goaded her unmercifully.
Mitch asked her a couple of questions about Beth and she hardly heard them or knew how she answered. Mitch was no threat, he didn’t count; he hadn’t sat too close to Beth and claimed all her attention and smiled at her and made her laugh.
There seemed to be only one solution, only one way to make Beth feel guilty, to make her stay away from Charlie, and that was for Laura to pretend that she really liked him. Laura made her mind up and set her chin in
