Rules of Civility - Amor Towles [30]
Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation
Etc.
Did I say et cetera? There were 110 of them! And over half were underlined—one adolescent sharing another’s enthusiasm for propriety across a chasm of 150 years. It was hard to decide which was sweeter—the fact that Tinker’s mother had given it to him, or the fact that he kept it at hand.
The chair behind the desk was on a pivot. I spun around once and came to a stop. The drawers could all be locked, but none of them were. The lower drawers were empty. The upper side drawers were stuffed with the usual accessories. But sitting on top of a pile of papers in the center drawer was a letter from Eve’s father.
Dear Mr. Gray [sic],
I appreciate your candor in the hospital and I am prepared to take you at your word that you and Evelyn are not romantically involved. In part, that is why I must insist above your previous objections that I cover the costs of my daughter’s stay in your apartment. I have enclosed a check for $1,000 and will follow it with others. Please do me the honor of cashing them.
An act of generosity rarely ends a man’s responsibilities toward another; it tends instead to begin them. Few understand this, but I have no doubt that you do.
If things should develop between you and my daughter, I can only trust that you will not take advantage of her condition, her proximity or her indebtedness—that you will show the restraint that comes natural to gentlemen—until such a time as you are ready to do what is right.
With Gratitude and Trust,
Charles Everett Ross
I folded the letter and returned it to the drawer with a heightened respect for Mr. Ross. In its stark factual prose, businessman to businessman, I think his letter could have stymied Don Juan. No wonder Tinker left it there—where Eve was sure to find it.
In the master bedroom, the drapes were open and the city glittered like a diamond necklace that knows exactly whom it’s within the reach of. The bed had a blue and yellow cover that complemented a pair of upholstered chairs. If the whole apartment had been designed pitch perfect for a wealthy bachelor, here there was just enough color and comfort so that a woman who lucked into the room wouldn’t feel herself on alien ground. It was the hidden hand again.
In the closet there were some new additions to Eve’s wardrobe. They must have been bought by Tinker because they were not inexpensive and not Evey’s style. As I ran my finger along the dresses, flitting through them like the cocktail recipes, a blue flapper’s jacket caught my eye. It was mine. For a moment, I wondered how it had gotten there, since I was the one who had unpacked Evey’s things. But then I remembered—Evey had been wearing it the night of the accident. Through a miracle of Civility & Decent Behaviour, it had been salvaged and cleaned. I hung it back in its place and closed the closet door.
In the bathroom Eve’s medication sat on the sink. It was some sort of painkiller. I looked in the mirror wondering how I would bear up in her place.
Not so well, I reckoned.
When I went back to the living room, Eve was gone.
I went to the kitchen and the maid’s room. I doubled back to the study. I began to worry that she had actually run from the apartment. But then I saw the living room curtain rise and fall and the white silhouette of her dress on the terrace. I went out and joined her.
—Hey Katey.
If Eve suspected me of snooping, she didn’t show it.
The sleet had stopped and the sky was starlit. The East Side apartment buildings glimmered across the park like houses on the opposite side of a cove.
—It’s a little cold out here, I said.
—But worth it, right? It’s funny. The skyline at night is so breathtaking and yet you could spend a whole lifetime in Manhattan and