“I don't remember.” Liz told herself to maintain control. This would be all over soon. But she couldn't walk away.
“Wasn't it on that three-way corner, a few blocks from the campus…? We used to call them the Marx Brothers,” Cathy explained with a giggle. “Brooks never wore socks — in Vermont, remember, he must have gotten terrible colds from that — and Hemmings never washed his hair. That was some department. Of course, Dr. Brooks went off to Berkeley, and then you went out there, too, to finish your doctorate. I guess you liked working under him. Tell me, how is Bennington now?”
“Just as nice as ever.”
“I never get back there for the alum meetings,” Cathy said.
“I haven't been back there myself in over a year,” Liz replied.
“What ever happened to Dr. Brooks?” Cathy asked again.
“He teaches at Vassar now, I think.”
“Oh, you've kept track of him? Still trying to bed every skirt in sight, too, I bet. Radical-chic. How often do you see him?”
“Not in a couple of years.”
“We never understood what you saw in them,” Cathy observed.
“Come now, Caroline, none of us were virgins back then.”
Cathy sipped at her champagne. “That's true, times were different, and we did lots of very dumb things. But I g0t lucky. Jack made an honest woman of me.”
Zing! Libby Holtzman thought.
“Some of us haven't had time.”
“I don't know how you manage without a family. I don't think I could handle the loneliness.”
“At least I never have to worry about an unfaithful husband,” Liz observed icily, finding her own weapon, not knowing it wasn't loaded anymore.
Cathy looked amused. “Yes, I suppose some women have to worry about that. But I don't, thank God.”
“How can any woman be sure?”
“Only a fool is unsure. If you know your man,” Cathy explained, “you know what he can and cannot do.”
“And you really feel that secure?” Liz asked.
“Of course.”
“They say the wife is always the last to know.”
Cathy's head cocked to one side. “Is this a philosophical discussion, or are you trying to say something to my face instead of behind my back?”
Jesus! Holtzman felt that he was a spectator at a prize-fight.
“Did I give you that impression? Oh, I'm so sorry, Caroline.”
“That's okay, Liz.”
“Excuse me, but I prefer—”
“I go by 'professor,' too you know, medical doctor, Johns Hopkins, and all that.”
“I thought you were an associate professor.”
Dr. Ryan nodded. “That's right. I got offered a full professorship at the University of Virginia, but that meant moving away from the house we like, moving the kids out of school, and, of course, there's the problem with Jack's career. So, I turned it down.”
“I guess you are pretty tied down.”
“I do have responsibilities, and I like working at Hopkins. We're doing some pioneer work, and it's good to be where the action is. It must have been much easier for you to come to Washington, what with nothing to hold you anywhere and besides, what's new in political science?”
“I'm quite satisfied with my life, thank you.”
“I'm sure you are,” Cathy replied, seeing the chink, and knowing how to exploit it. “You can always tell when a person is happy in their work.”
“And you, Professor?”
“Life couldn't be much better. As a matter of fact, there's only one real difference between us,” Caroline Ryan said.
“And that is?”
“… I don't know where my wife wandered off to. There's yours with Liz Elliot and the Holtzmans. I wonder what they're talking about?” Bunker said.
“At home, at night, I sleep with a man,” Cathy said sweetly. “And the nice thing about it is that I never have to change the batteries.”
Jack turned to see his wife and Elizabeth Elliot, whose pearl necklace seemed to turn brown before his eyes, she went so pale. His wife was shorter than the National Security Advisor, and she looked like a pixie next to Libby Holtzman, but whatever the hell had just happened, Cathy was holding her ground like a momma-bear on her kill, her eyes locked on the taller Elliot. He moved over to see what the problem was.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hello, Jack,” Cathy said, her eyes fixed on her target. “Do you know Bob and Libby?”
“Hi.” Ryan shook hands with both, catching looks from them that he could only guess at. Mrs. Holtzman seemed about to explode, but then she took a breath and controlled herself.
“You're the lucky guy who married this woman?” Libby asked. That comment made Elliot turn away first from the confrontation.
“Actually she's the one who married me, I think,” Jack said, after a further moment's confusion.
“If you'll excuse me,” Elliot said, departing from the battlefield as gracefully as she could. Cathy took Jack's arm and steered him towards the corner with the piano.
“What in the hell was that all about?” Libby Holtzman asked her husband. She thought she knew most of it already. Her successful struggle not to laugh aloud had nearly strangled her.
“What it's about, my dear, is that I broke an ethical rule. And you know something?”
“You did the right thing,” Libby announced. “The Marx Brothers? 'Three-way corner.' Liz Elliot, the Queen Radical WASP. My God.”
“Jack, I have a terrible headache, I mean, a really terrible one,” Cathy whispered to her husband.
“That bad?”
She nodded. “Can we get out of here before I get nauseous?”
“Cathy, you don't just walk out of these things…” Jack pointed out.
“Sure you do.”
“What were you and Liz talking about?”
“I don't think I like her very much.”
“You're not the only one. Okay.” Jack headed for the door with Cathy on his arm. The Army captain at the stairs was very understanding. Five minutes later, they were outside. Jack helped his wife into the car and headed back up the drive towards Pennsylvania.
“Go straight,” Cathy said.
“But—”
“Go straight, Jack.” It was her surgeon's voice. The one that told people what to do. Ryan pulled past Lafayette Park. “Now left.”
“Where are we supposed to be going?”
“Now turn right — and left into the driveway.”
“But—”
“Jack, please?” Cathy said softly.
The doorman of the Hay Adams Hotel helped Caroline from the car. Jack handed the keys to the parking attendant, then followed his wife in. He watched the concierge hand her a key, then she breezed off to the elevators. He followed her onto and off the elevator, and from there to a corner suite.
“What gives, Cathy?”
“Jack, there's been too much work, too much kids, and not enough us. Tonight, my darling, there is time for us.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and there was nothing for her husband to do but kiss her. She put the key in his hand. “Now get the door open before we scare somebody.”
