A Single Thread (Cobbled Court) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Abigail. She’s fascinating! I can’t believe she actually knows Mikhail Baryshnikov. It was awfully nice of her to let me crash the party.”
    “I knew she wouldn’t mind. Abigail likes meeting new people. She loves drawing them out, finding some common ground for conversation.” Grace laughed. “I think she enjoys the challenge, as if she was out to solve some sort of mystery. She looks straight at you with those intense brown eyes as if every word you were saying was completely and utterly absorbing, and, of course, you end up falling in love with her. It’s impossible not to. In some way or another, everyone in that room owes Abigail something, but that’s not why they’re here tonight. Even if Abigail wasn’t a benefactress to half the town, no one would dream of missing her birthday party. People like her.”
    See? What did I tell you?
    “How did the two of you meet?” Margot inquired.
    “Playing tennis. I was her doubles partner for years. She used to play singles and doubles until last year. Abigail has ten years on me, but she can still run me off the court. She’s very athletic. Hiking, riding, sailing—name a sport and Abigail excels at it.”
    “Well, I’d never have guessed she was sixty-two if you hadn’t told me.”
    “She is amazing looking, isn’t she? Her skin positively glows. And it’s all natural. At least, I think it is.”
    It is. I don’t put much faith in cosmetic surgeons, or cosmetics, for that matter. Everyone ages; I don’t understand why people spend so much time and money trying to avoid the inevitable. At my age, beauty is a ship that has sailed; the best one can hope for is to be thought of as handsome, and while I try my best to keep myself up, a little face powder and lipstick is as far as I go. When it comes to makeup and fashion, simplicity is best. My closet is filled with classic clothing of excellent quality—well-cut wool slacks, silk blouses, an array of cashmere sweaters, and, for more formal occasions like this evening, an assortment of black cocktail dresses. Oh, and shoes. Good shoes are a must. My preference is for Stuart Weitzman; classic designs that are just different enough to be interesting and have heels you can actually walk in—not far, mind you, but far enough. If you carry yourself well, that is really all you need in the way of fashion. That and a few pieces of well-chosen jewelry: pearls, matching earrings, a good diamond tennis bracelet, and, perhaps, one simply spectacular ring, like the enormous yellow diamond Woolley Wynne gave me when he proposed.
    “Well, she’s certainly a handsome woman,” Margot commented.
    Thank you, Margot.
    “You should have seen her when she was younger. She was stunning! She looked like Katharine Hepburn. In fact, she still reminds me of Hepburn. She has those same amazing cheekbones, that confident spring in her step. You get the sense that she enjoys life fully. And well…I don’t mean that she’s conceited necessarily, but she’s just entirely pleased to be Abigail. If she wasn’t so clearly interested in others, she’d probably come off as arrogant, but she’s not. She’s just supremely confident, and I think people find that attractive. And, of course, she’s very well educated. She can talk intelligently on almost any subject…”
    Well, that isn’t so very difficult. If people would just read more instead of spending so much time in front of the television, the world would be a much more interesting place. I think we owe it to other people to be interesting, or at least not to be dull.
    “…so she is very much in demand when it comes to parties. Do you know that there are people in New Bern who have actually canceled their parties or changed the date when they heard that Abigail couldn’t come?”
    “Really? You’re kidding!”
    Margot laughed at this, and I could understand why. It really is ridiculous, canceling an entire party just because one person can’t come, but it has been