nothing gets screwed up.”
“I can hardly wait!” Ellen said. “You’re a real friend, Margot.”
Rachel and Lawrence fowler were giving a large party to help one hundred of their closest friends recover from the after-holiday doldrums. Margot and Nikki were both invited, Margot as “Celebrity—TV” and Nikki as “Intellectual—Publishing.” Neither was aware of the categories in which they were listed in Rachel’s party book, but they suspected. Actually, they both liked Rachel, for they had decided that there was more to her as a person than the role that life, her husband, and she herself had put her into. Ellen and Hank were invited too, having been on Lawrence Fowler’s “Large Party” list ever since Hank had sold him his first limousine at a discount. Lawrence had switched to a Mercedes several years ago, but he didn’t like to drop people, and the Rennies seemed personable enough.
The party was held on a Friday night, starting at eight. Rachel had decided that people should dress up. There was a buffet dinner, a lot to drink of course—mostly white wine, because people wanted that lately—and she had hired a pianist. Handsome young men sent from the caterer were running all over the place. Rachel preferred them to maids. It made the wives feel sexier, even though the waiters were homosexual.
Dressed, Lawrence presented himself to her for her approval. It was nice of him to do that, she thought, it made her feel important to him, and it was one of the few times she felt that he, not just his environment, needed her. She in turn presented herself to him for his approval. They shared a glass of champagne together in the library before the guests came. It would probably be the last time they would see each other until the party was over.
The Christmas decorations were long gone, and Rachel had managed to have spring flowers flown in. The large apartment looked fresh, blooming and cheerful. She supposed everything would go right, it always did. It was too bad she couldn’t get drunk and enjoy herself, but champagne was fattening. She would just be charming and bored.
Ellen was thrilled. She had wanted to be the first to arrive so she would have time to chat with the Fowlers, but then she decided Hank was a detriment and it would be better to arrive later so she could lose him in the crowd. When they got there Nikki and Robert were already there.
“I love your wife,” Nikki said to Hank. “I think she’s enchanting. She’s going to be so good at her new job. Everyone loves her.”
Hank looked pleased but uncomfortable. “Don’t be jealous, dear,” Ellen said to him.
“Oh, why would he be jealous?” Nikki said cheerfully. She was bubbling and bouncing all over the place like a blond cheerleader. In a minute there were three other men around her, all admiring her. Robert hovered over her for a while and then went to the bar.
Ellen lost Hank as soon as possible. In a few minutes she had her own group of men around her. One of them brought her a drink. They were a banker, an advertising executive, a doctor, and an actor. They were all married, except for the actor, who had a possessive date at least twenty years younger than he who kept clutching onto him. No wonder poor Margot never finds anybody, Ellen thought. All the men are divine but they’re all taken.
Margot, in the library where it was quieter, kept looking at her watch. She had to be back at the studio soon to prepare the news. There was a very attractive boy standing by the fireplace, maybe twenty, watching everything with that cool, self-possessed air young kids put on when they’re uncomfortable. She was immediately attracted to him in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time, and she thought how funny it would be if at last he turned out to be the one who could move her. He looked at her, right into her eyes, and smiled. “Hello,” he said without moving toward her.
She moved toward him.
“You keep looking at the
“I can hardly wait!” Ellen said. “You’re a real friend, Margot.”
Rachel and Lawrence fowler were giving a large party to help one hundred of their closest friends recover from the after-holiday doldrums. Margot and Nikki were both invited, Margot as “Celebrity—TV” and Nikki as “Intellectual—Publishing.” Neither was aware of the categories in which they were listed in Rachel’s party book, but they suspected. Actually, they both liked Rachel, for they had decided that there was more to her as a person than the role that life, her husband, and she herself had put her into. Ellen and Hank were invited too, having been on Lawrence Fowler’s “Large Party” list ever since Hank had sold him his first limousine at a discount. Lawrence had switched to a Mercedes several years ago, but he didn’t like to drop people, and the Rennies seemed personable enough.
The party was held on a Friday night, starting at eight. Rachel had decided that people should dress up. There was a buffet dinner, a lot to drink of course—mostly white wine, because people wanted that lately—and she had hired a pianist. Handsome young men sent from the caterer were running all over the place. Rachel preferred them to maids. It made the wives feel sexier, even though the waiters were homosexual.
Dressed, Lawrence presented himself to her for her approval. It was nice of him to do that, she thought, it made her feel important to him, and it was one of the few times she felt that he, not just his environment, needed her. She in turn presented herself to him for his approval. They shared a glass of champagne together in the library before the guests came. It would probably be the last time they would see each other until the party was over.
The Christmas decorations were long gone, and Rachel had managed to have spring flowers flown in. The large apartment looked fresh, blooming and cheerful. She supposed everything would go right, it always did. It was too bad she couldn’t get drunk and enjoy herself, but champagne was fattening. She would just be charming and bored.
Ellen was thrilled. She had wanted to be the first to arrive so she would have time to chat with the Fowlers, but then she decided Hank was a detriment and it would be better to arrive later so she could lose him in the crowd. When they got there Nikki and Robert were already there.
“I love your wife,” Nikki said to Hank. “I think she’s enchanting. She’s going to be so good at her new job. Everyone loves her.”
Hank looked pleased but uncomfortable. “Don’t be jealous, dear,” Ellen said to him.
“Oh, why would he be jealous?” Nikki said cheerfully. She was bubbling and bouncing all over the place like a blond cheerleader. In a minute there were three other men around her, all admiring her. Robert hovered over her for a while and then went to the bar.
Ellen lost Hank as soon as possible. In a few minutes she had her own group of men around her. One of them brought her a drink. They were a banker, an advertising executive, a doctor, and an actor. They were all married, except for the actor, who had a possessive date at least twenty years younger than he who kept clutching onto him. No wonder poor Margot never finds anybody, Ellen thought. All the men are divine but they’re all taken.
Margot, in the library where it was quieter, kept looking at her watch. She had to be back at the studio soon to prepare the news. There was a very attractive boy standing by the fireplace, maybe twenty, watching everything with that cool, self-possessed air young kids put on when they’re uncomfortable. She was immediately attracted to him in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time, and she thought how funny it would be if at last he turned out to be the one who could move her. He looked at her, right into her eyes, and smiled. “Hello,” he said without moving toward her.
She moved toward him.
“You keep looking at the
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