About Schmidt - Louis Begley [59]
Gil rose from his wing chair and opened his arms. A huge, silent embrace—Schmidt felt a contraction inside his chest, as though his heart too had been squeezed. They had, after all, remained friends. When he took a step backward, away from Gil, his heart moved again. Gil had on a thick silky cardigan, beautiful as Joseph’s coat of many colors. It was the sort of garment that Schmidt knew Gil would not have bought for himself. Elaine had given it to him. Here was proof she was still in love, physically. She wanted her husband to be gorgeous. Schmidt imagined the sweater he might have received from Mary: the best kind of lamb’s wool, burgundy or dark green, to go with his tweed coat, and probably crew-necked, so that he could on occasion wear it without a necktie. There was nothing wrong with the rustic approach to decorating one’s husband; in truth, Schmidt thought it quite appropriate in his own case. He might have added that it had never occurred to him that he was a glamorous object of desire. Nevertheless, as he turned to kiss Elaine on the cheek, he wondered how much of that was in the eye of the beholder: What would it have been like to be married to a Jewess? He might ask Gil about that. Gil had drunk from both wells.
The exotic lady in question hugged Schmidt in turn. It’s so wonderful about Charlotte, she whispered. I don’t know the boy, do I? They’ll be so happy. If only Mary could have seen it!
The Blackmans were having champagne—silver bucket, large silver tray, tulip glasses. A mound of dark gray caviar on a crystal plate showed signs of recent erosion. Schmidt put his back to the fire, asked for a martini, and watched Elaine load the caviar on rounds of black pumpernickel.
Is lovely Lilly here?
She’s at her father’s, sleeping over, Elaine told him. It was perfect scheduling. The juvenile delinquent he screws is visiting her parents in Scranton, so he has time for his daughter, and I don’t have to worry about Lilly being embarrassed by the way they carry on.
You see the symmetry? Gil had returned with a martini in a silver goblet. He handed it to Schmidt together with a little linen napkin and a piece of bread brimming over with caviar.
Gil continued: Our juvenile delinquent leaves her mom’s home where she lives with the man who was crazy enough about her mom to abandon his own daughters and their mom, and goes to visit her real pop. In the meantime, the unrelated juvenile delinquent her pop is screwing, who could be his daughter, goes to visit her own mom and pop. If we only knew about the pop in Scranton—is this really his daughter?—we could extend the frieze.
You are revolting. Lilly isn’t a juvenile delinquent.
Neither is Judy! She is a rising rock artist who works very hard. I wish we could say as much for dear Lilly.
Now, now, said Schmidt. Time out. Is there more martini in that silver shaker? Have you taken the family silver out of the vault just for me? Or does the decoration mean you plan to spend Christmas here?
Elaine made a sniffing noise that Schmidt thought might be real.
You tell Gil he is a brute. He used to listen to what you say. Maybe he still does. The tree is for Lilly. She is having a party tomorrow afternoon for the kids from the stable.
Halsey’s! Mary and Charlotte used to do that until Charlotte decided riding took up too much time.
What a nuisance: Schmidt’s own eyes filled up with tears. He blew his nose elaborately, drank half of his second martini, and ate another wallop of caviar. Angry at the tremor in his voice, he announced: I have a problem with this Christmas.
Of course, said Gil, it must be very tough. Why don’t you spend it with us? We are going to Venice, just a few couples. We’ll be at the Monaco. If you decide quickly, I bet I can still get a room for you—or you and Lilly can share.
That’s the only condition on which I would go. I’d like to have you and Elaine as my parents-in-law. But it’s more complicated than that. I don’t think Venice is the right idea, although I am really very grateful.
Tell us over dinner. I am going to put the food on