Rules of Civility - Amor Towles [22]
Me: When I was eight and we lived above a bakery.
Tinker: When I was thirteen and my brother and I hiked the Adirondacks.
Eve: The upcoming one.
The oysters were consumed and the shells whisked away. Casper appeared with another round of martinis and then poured an extra one for the table.
—What shall we drink to this time? I asked.
—To being less shy, Tinker said.
Eve and I echoed the toast and raised the liquor to our lips.
—To being less shy? someone queried.
Standing with a hand on the back of my chair was a tall, elegant woman in her early fifties.
—That seems a nice ambition, she said. But better that one should aspire to returning one’s phone calls first.
—I’m sorry, Tinker said a little embarrassed. I meant to call this afternoon.
She smiled winningly and waved a forgiving hand.
—Come on, Teddy. I’m only teasing. I can see that you’ve had the best of distractions.
She held her hand out to me.
—I’m Anne Grandyn—Tinker’s godmother.
Tinker stood. He gestured to the two of us.
—This is Katherine Kontent and—
But Eve was already on her feet.
—Evelyn Ross, she said. It’s so nice to meet you.
Mrs. Grandyn worked her way around the table to shake Eve’s hand, insisting that she sit, and then continued on to Tinker. Barely marked by age, she had short blond hair and the refined features of a ballerina who had grown too tall for the ballet. She was wearing a black sleeveless dress that celebrated the slenderness of her arms. She wasn’t wearing a choker of pearls, but she was wearing earrings—emerald studs the size of gumdrops. The stones were uncontestably glorious and happened to match the color of her eyes. From the way she carried herself, you could just tell that she swam with them. Coming out of the water, she would pick up a towel and dry her hair, not wondering for a moment whether the stones were in her ears or at the bottom of the sea.
Reaching Tinker, she offered her cheek and he gave her an awkward peck. When he sat down again she put a maternal hand on his shoulder.
—Katherine, Evelyn, mark my words. It’s the same with godsons and nephews. When they first come to New York, you see them plenty. Like when the hamper’s full or the pantry’s bare. But once they get on their feet, if you want to invite them for tea, you have to hire a Pinkerton.
Eve and I laughed. Tinker mustered a sheepish grin. The appearance of his godmother was making him look sixteen.
—What a wonderful coincidence running into you here, Evelyn said.
—It is a small world, Mrs. Grandyn replied, a little wryly.
No doubt, she had taken Tinker here in the first place.
—Would you like to join us for a drink? Tinker asked.
—Thank you, dear, but I couldn’t. I’m with Gertrude. She’s trying to drag me onto the board of the museum. I’m going to need all my wits about me.
She turned to the two of us.
—If I leave it to Teddy, I’m sure that I will never see you again. So, accept my invitation for lunch someday—with or without him. I promise I won’t bore you with too many stories of his youth.
—We wouldn’t be bored, Mrs. Grandyn, Eve assured.
—Please, Mrs. Grandyn said, making the word a sentence just as the maitre d’ had. Call me Anne.
As Mrs. Grandyn gave a graceful wave and returned to her table, Eve was aglow. But if Mrs. Grandyn’s little visit had lit the candles on Eve’s cake, for Tinker it had blown them out. Her unexpected appearance had changed the whole tenor of the outing. In the blink of an eye the caption had gone from Man of means takes two girls to swanky spot to Young peacock shows off feathers in family’s backyard.
Eve was so rosy she couldn’t see that the evening was on the verge of being spoiled.
—What a wonderful woman. Is she a friend of your mother’s?
—What’s that? Tinker asked. Oh. Yes. They grew up together.
He picked up his fork and turned it in his hands.
—Perhaps we should go ahead and order, Eve suggested.
—Do you want to get out of here? I asked Tinker.
—Could we?
—Absolutely.
Eve was plainly disappointed. She gave me that quick irritated glance. She opened her mouth ready to suggest we