Deep Water

virus, she said. It was Vic who had proposed the dinner party, and he had had some trouble in persuading Melinda to give it. Melinda felt that their old friends were down on her lately, which was more or less true, but he pointed out that they were inviting her to their houses nevertheless and that if she wanted to improve matters she would have to invite them now and then, too. Vic had always had a hard time persuading Melinda to do any entertaining. Not that he felt they had to worry about what they owed their friends in the way of invitations—not in a town as informal as Little Wesley—but Vic thought that once or twice a year they might give a big cocktail party or an evening party, as the Cowans and the Mellers did at least three times a year. But the thought of even two people coming for dinner, or twenty coming for cocktails, put Melinda in a dither. She would worry that the liquor would run out, or that the 'ice' cream would melt before it could be served, or she would suddenly realize that the house needed a thorough cleaning, or that the kitchen needed new curtains, and she would fret so that Vic would finally suggest they abandon the idea of a party. Even with two people, old friends like the Mellers, a buried inferiority would come to the surface, and she would be as nervous and unsure of herself as a young bride who was being hostess for the first time to her husband's boss. Vic found it somehow very appealing, found Melinda appealingly young and helpless on these occasions, and he would do all he could to reassure her and give her confidence—even though for the preceding month he might have been annoyed by her single men friends whom she had invited for dinner twice in the week, and who never made her nervous in the least.

       Vic had not thought Carpenter's presence would make her nervous—it might help, if anything, he thought—and he had invited him simply out of friendliness and good will. And Melinda's face did brighten when Vic walked in with him at seven-thirty. The Mellers were not due until eight. Carpenter presented his champagne, and Melinda thanked him and put it in the refrigerator to keep cold until they would open it after dinner. Melinda was pacing the house, sipping a highball, checking on the progress of the duck every five minutes, and checking with her eyes the cocktail table on which clean ashtrays, muddlers, and a big bowl containing a sour cream and shredded shrimp mixture stood in unaccustomed orderliness. And she was entirely dressed now in a dark-green linen sleeveless dress, gold sandals with wings on them, and a necklace of white coral pieces that suggested feral teeth about the size of tigers' fangs. Above the necklace her face looked absolutely terrified.

       Vic left Carpenter and Melinda alone for a few minutes while he changed his shirt and put on a dark suit, then he returned and took Melinda's present from his jacket pocket and gave it to her.

       Melinda opened it after a nervous, apologetic glance at Carpenter. Then her expression changed. "Oh, Vic! What a watch!"

       "If you don't like it, they'll take it back and you can change it for something else," Vic said, knowing she would like it.

       Carpenter was watching both of them with a pleasant face.

       Melinda put the watch on. It was a dress watch of gold set with little diamonds. Melinda had ruined her old watch by going into the Cowans' pool with it one night, two or three years ago, and she had been wanting a dress watch ever since.

       "Oh, Vic, it's just beautiful," Melinda said, her voice softer than Vic had heard it in many, many months.

       "And this," Vic said, drawing something in an envelope from his other pocket. "It's not really a present."

       "Oh, my pearls!"

       "I just had them restrung," Vic said. Melinda had broken them about a month ago, throwing them at him in an argument. "Thank you, Vic. That's very nice of you," Melinda said subduedly, with a glance at Carpenter as if she feared he might have been able to guess why the pearls had needed restringing.

       Carpenter looked as if he were guessing, Vic thought. He might have been even more amused if he had known that while Vic was crawling around on the floor picking up the scattered pearls Melinda had kicked him.

       The Mellers arrived with a rotary broiler for Melinda, the kind that worked by electricity in the kitchen. The Mellers knew they had an outdoor broiler that used charcoal. Mary Meller gave Melinda a kiss on the cheek, and so did Horace. Vic had seen Mary when she had been warmer toward Melinda, but still it was a fine performance for Carpenter, he thought. Carpenter seemed to be keeping his eyes open especially for the social relations that night, how the Mellers behaved to him and how they behaved to Melinda. There was no mistaking the fact that the Mellers were friendlier toward him than toward Melinda.

       During the cocktails Melinda kept getting up to go to the kitchen, and Mary asked if she could help in any way, but both Vic and Melinda declined her help.

       "Don't think about it," Vic said. "Stay here and enjoy your drinks. I'm butlering tonight." He went into the kitchen to take care of the crucial problem of getting the duck from oven to platter. They lost the apple out of the duck's posterior, but Vic caught the ball of fire in midair and deposited it, smiling, on top of the stove.

       "Oh, Christ," Melinda muttered, ineffectually waving the carving knife and the honing stick "What 'else' can happen?"

       "We can burn the wild rice," Vic said, checking in the oven. It didn't seem to be burning. He picked up the apple on a large