Rules of Civility - Amor Towles [86]
There were two women already there. Sitting in front of a mirror I pretended to tinker with an earring as I watched them in the reflection. The first, a tall brunette with short hair and a cool expression, had just come up from the dock. Her bathing suit was at her feet and she was drying her naked body unself-consciously. The other, in teal tafetta, was sitting at a well-lit vanity trying to repair mascara after a bout of tears. Every thirty seconds or so she let out a whimper. The swimmer wasn’t showing her much sympathy. I tried not to show her any either.
Uncomforted, the girl gave a sniff and left.
—Good riddance, the swimmer said blandly.
She gave her hair a final rub with the towel and tossed it in a pile. She had an athlete’s body and a backless dress that she was going to wear to great advantage. As she moved her arms you could see her muscles articulate around her shoulder blades. She didn’t bother to sit when she put on her shoes. She slipped her feet into them and wiggled her heels until they wedged their way in. Then she extended her long thin arm over her shoulder and zipped her own dress.
In the mirror, I saw a glimmer on the carpet under the settee where her shoes had been stowed. Crossing the room, I got down on my knees and reached for the object. It was a diamond earring.
The brunette was watching me now.
—Is this yours? I asked, knowing it wasn’t.
She took it in hand.
—No, she said. But it’s quite a piece.
She looked around the room indifferently.
—These normally travel in pairs.
As I checked under the settee, she shook the wet towels. We looked around for a minute more and then she handed the earring back.
—A fortune of war, she said.
The swimmer was more right than she knew. Because I was fairly certain that this particular earring—with its baguette-cut diamonds and its clasp in white gold—was one of the pair that Eve had found in Tinker’s bedside table.
Descending the curved front stair I felt off my balance, as if the one glass of champagne had gone straight to my head. Whatever news Tinker and Eve were bringing home from Paris, I wasn’t ready to hear it—not in a setting like this. I slowed my pace and shifted to the outer edge of the staircase, where the steps were widest and the banister was close at hand.
Crowding the lobby was a parade of new arrivals—more flyboys and self-zipping brunettes. Jolly glad to see one another, they were blocking the exit with their fashionably lateness. But if Tinker and Eve were at Whileaway, they wouldn’t be stuck in the lobby; they’d be adding sparks to the hour in the company of friendly foursomes. As I reached the bottom stair I figured it was twenty steps to the door and half a mile to the train.
—Katey!
A woman marching out of the great room caught me off guard. But I should have known who it was from the pace of her approach.
—Bitsy . . .
—Jack and I are positively rotten about Wally rushing off to Spain.
She had two glasses of champagne and thrust one in my hand.
—I know he’s been saying for months he intended to join up, but no one thought he’d go through with it. Especially after you came along. Are you beside yourself?
—I’m doing all right.
—Of course you are. Have you heard from him?
—Not yet.
—Then no one has. Let’s figure out when we can lunch. You and I are going to be fast friends this fall. That’s a promise. But come say hi to Jack.
At the entrance to the great room Jack was having a good laugh with a girl named Generous, who appeared anything but. Even at ten feet you could tell she was spinning a yarn at a friend’s expense. As Jack introduced me, I wondered how long I’d have to chat before I could extricate myself politely.
—Go back to the beginning, Jack told Generous. It’s priceless!
—All right, she said with expert weariness—as if boredom had been invented the day she was born. Do you know Tinker and Evelyn?
—She was in the car wreck with them, Bitsy said.
—Then you’re definitely going to want to hear this.
Freshly back from the Continent, Generous explained, Tinker and Eve were spending the weekend at Whileaway