Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [24]
"Joyce. Hello, Tim. Am I the first?"
"Yes. You look elegant." He took her coat. He had known her forever: since grade school, anyway. Penelope Joyce had gone to the same girls' prep school as Tim's sister and half a dozen girl cousins. She had been the homely one, with her wide mouth and too-square jaw and a figure best described as sturdy. In college she had begun to bloom.
She was indeed elegant tonight. Her hair was long and wavy and complexly arranged. Her dress was clean of line and of a color and texture soft to the eye. Tim wanted to touch it. He'd lived with his sister long enough to know how long it must have taken to get that effect, even if he had no hint as to how it was done.
Wanting her approval was automatic. He waited as she inspected his living room, wondering to himself why he'd never invited her before. Finally she looked up with an expression Tim hadn't seen her use since high school, when she'd decided she was judge of all morals. "Nice room," she said approvingly. Then she giggled, ruining the pose.
"Glad you like it. Damned glad, in fact."
"Really? Is my opinion so important?" She was still teasing him with facial expressions from their childhood.
"Yes. In a few minutes the whole damned family's going to be here, and most of them haven't seen this place. You think like they do, so if you like it, they will."
"Hmm. I guess I deserved that."
"Hey, I didn't mean … " She was laughing at him again. He got her a drink and they sat.
"I've been wondering," she mused. "We haven't seen each other for two years at least. Why did you ask me here tonight?"
Tim was partly prepared for that. She had always been direct. He decided to be truthful. "I was thinking about who I wanted here tonight. A big ego thing, right? The show about my comet. And I thought of Gil Waters, the top of my class at Cate, and my family, and you. Then I realized I was thinking of all the people I wanted to impress most."
"Me?"
"Right. We used to talk, remember? And I never could tell you what I wanted to do with my life. The rest of my family, everyone we grew up with, they make money, or collect art, or race cars, or do something. Me, I only wanted to watch the sky."
She smiled. "I'm really flattered, Tim."
"You really do look elegant. Your own creation?"
"Yes. Thank you."
She was still easy to talk to. Tim was finding that a pleasant rediscovery when the doorbell rang. The others had come.
It was a pleasant evening. The caterers had done their job well, so there was no trouble with the food, even without George to help. Tim relaxed and found he was having fun.
They listened.
They never had before. They listened as Tim told them how it had been: the cold, dark hours of watching, of studying star patterns, of keeping the log; of endless hours poring over photographs; all with no result except the joy of knowing the universe. And they listened. Even Greg, who usually made no secret of how he felt about rich men who didn't pay proper attention to their money.
It was only a family gathering in Tim's living room, but he was elated, and nervous, and quiveringly alert. He saw Barry's smile and headshake and read Barry's mind from that: What a way to spend a life! He's actually envying me, Tim thought, and it was delicious. Tim glanced up to catch his sister watching with wry amusement. Jill had always been able to tell what Tim was thinking. He'd been closer to her than either had been to their brother Pat.
But it was Pat who trapped him behind the bar and wanted to talk.
"Like your place," Pat said. "Mom doesn't know what to make of it." He tilted his head to indicate where their mother was wandering around the room, looking at gadgets. At the moment she was fascinated by the Kalliroscope's random and strange patterns. "Bet I know what she's thinking. Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Bring girls here. Have wild parties."
"None of your goddamn business."
Pat shrugged. "Too bad. Man, there are times when I wish I … to hell with it. But you really ought to take advantage. You won't have forever. Mom will have