“Three children. One daughter still lives at home. Please excuse me.” She thought that she saw Drew, and she called his name as she started to move away.
She was mistaken, though, and Sylvia placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you divorced, Ms. Barrett?”
Amy scanned the room, desperate to find Drew. “Uh. No. I’m a widow.” Where on earth was he?
“I’m so sorry. Of course, a death is so much more convenient than a divorce.”
“What do you—it’s what? More convenient?”
“Divorce can be so time consuming. When I divorced my husband there were meetings with attorneys, hearings, mediation…I had to keep a calendar just to know where I had to be and when I had to be there. Death is so final. He dies on Monday, is buried on Wednesday.” She shrugged. “Then too, if he dies, you receive everything. If you’re divorced…” She shook her head and sipped her wine, letting her words hang in the air.
Amy stared, open-mouthed, for several seconds, then decided to change the subject. “What do you do, Ms. Bounds?”
“Do? I’m on the board of the Children’s Museum. I’m a friend of Middleton Place. I’m a docent at St. Michael’s Church. And you?”
“I’m a programmer.”
“Oh, you have a paid job.” Sylvia tipped her head back and stared down her nose, her eyes locked on Amy’s.
Amy suddenly felt as if having a job were the social equivalent of being on welfare.
“Where are you from, Ms. Barrett?”
“North Carolina, originally. Near Charlotte.”
“I’ve never seen much point to North Carolina, myself.” Sylvia took another sip of wine. “It just seems to be an empty space between South Carolina and Virginia. One long stretch of a boring highway.”
Amy stepped back and raised her head, feeling ready for a fight.
Sylvia smiled and Amy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bounds, but I really must find Drew. Please excuse me.”
“Don’t run off—”
“Amy.” Jennifer appeared at her side. “Dad was waylaid by the Dean. He asked me to bring you some punch.” She handed Amy a cup. “I see you’ve met Ms. Bounds.” Jennifer turned away and rolled her eyes.
“Jennifer, how nice to see you. I was just telling Ms. Barrett about North Carolina. She said she grew up there and—”
“You were saying that North Carolina is a valley of humility between two mountains of conceit?” Jennifer looked innocently into Sylvia’s eyes, and Amy stifled a laugh.
“Actually, I, uh…I was commenting how nice it is to see outsiders, I mean outside guests, at the ball.”
“You mean people who are not members of the society, of course.”
“I mean people who are not of the same—”
“You are right. It would be so dreary if only society members were allowed to attend.” Jennifer chuckled. “I mean, since membership is passed from father to son, technically we,” Jennifer gestured at the three of them, “are all guests tonight, aren’t we?”
Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but Jennifer put her arm around Amy’s shoulder and led her away.
“Witch,” she said quietly. “When Mom died, Ms. Bounds showed up at the house the next morning, before lunch. I had just arrived and had not even spoken to Dad yet. It seemed like I saw her every time I turned around that week.” She shook her head. “She chased Dad for months. Threw herself at him, as they used to say.”
“She told me that a lot of women chased your father. Said they were like terminates pouring from a piece of rotten wood.”
“Really? If so, she was the queen of the colony.”
The ballroom was crowded and Amy found it difficult to walk without bumping into people. As she and Jennifer passed into the next room, a tall man stood to one side, talking with a woman wearing a low-cut green dress. Amy saw him look up, an expression of surprise on his face.
Jason Cooper raised his hand to attract her attention. “Ms. Barrett, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, Mr. Cooper.” Amy stopped and smiled. “How are you tonight?”
“I am fine, Ms. Barrett. I had not expected to see you tonight.”
“The two of you know each other?” Jennifer looked from one to the other.
“Of course. Mr. Cooper was my husband’s attorney.” Amy looked back to him. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Cooper.” She started to walk away, but he placed his hand on her arm.
“Who are you with tonight, Ms. Barrett?”
His question sounded like a challenge, and Amy was still thinking of her conversation with Sylvia Bounds, still feeling the need to defend herself. She whirled around. “Why is everyone so concerned—”
“She’s here with my father, Mr. Cooper.”
He looked at Jennifer as if he had not seen her before. “And you would be?”
“I’m Jennifer Kelly. I’m Dr. Andrew Nelson’s daughter.”
“Indeed?” He looked at her closely, then he turned back to Amy. “So, Ms. Barrett, you are seeing Dr. Nelson?”
Amy felt her face becoming warm. “Drew and I are friends, Mr. Cooper.”
“How very nice.”
No one spoke for a moment. Amy shifted from one foot to the other.
Jason Cooper motioned to the woman in the green dress. “This is my niece.”
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” The woman looked familiar, but Amy couldn’t place her. As she started to ask the woman’s name, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Here you are.” Drew linked his arm with hers. “Once the dean begins to talk…” He shook his head. “Hello, Jason. How are you tonight?”
“I’m doing well, Drew. I was surprised to see Ms. Barrett. You two are friends I hear.”
Drew smiled. “Yes, we are. Very good friends.”
Jason seemed to have nothing more to say, so Drew nodded at him and then at the woman in the green dress. “Well, have a nice evening.” He turned to Amy. “Would you like to dance?”
As they walked across the dance floor, she almost bumped into a young woman wearing a white dress. “Isn’t that Sara Marchbank?” she whispered. “The girl whose wedding we attended last weekend? She’s wearing her wedding dress.”
Drew nodded. “It certainly is Sara, and yes, she is wearing her wedding gown.”
“But…”
Drew chuckled. “The most recently married daughter wears her dress at the ball.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. Weddings have been scheduled with just that in mind. I recall that one girl was married at eight o’clock on the evening of the ball.”
“You’re joking, Drew.”
“Not at all. It was convenient, too. The wedding was at St Michael’s. There was a brief reception. They cut the cake. We walked down the block.”
“You people are crazy.”
“Which people?”
“Well…you.” She spread her arms wide, indicating the entire room.
They both laughed.
“We’ve been called worse things.” Drew put his arm around her as the orchestra began to play. “Shall we dance?”
***
The ball was winding down at one o’clock when Drew and Amy left. She had seen Sylvia Bounds a couple of times during the evening, and each time she had felt a mixture of anger and inferiority as she recalled their conversation. She had managed to push the memory away, though, and enjoy dancing with Drew and meeting his friends.
They walked three blocks to Mary Alyce Butler’s house. It faced the Battery and a cold November wind blew off the water, raising goose bumps on Amy’s arms, in spite of her coat. She shivered and gripped Drew’s arm.
He placed it around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “Mary Alyce has theme breakfasts—or dinners—each year after the ball,” Drew told her.
They walked up the steps to the front door and entered the large home. The dining room ran the length of the second floor, and french doors opened onto a balcony from which the entire ha
rbor was visible.
Amy gasped. The room was originally a ballroom, at least half the size of Amy’s house. She counted four cut-glass chandeliers. Chinese prints hung on the walls, and the dining table stood over a thick, wool rug, which covered a portion of the parquet floor. Yellow tablecloths, embroidered with Chinese dragons, covered the tables. Place cards bore matching images of dragons, and sets of chopsticks appeared beside each plate.
Amy rubbed the tablecloth between her fingers, deciding it was silk.
“One drop of wine and…”
She looked at Drew and smiled, knowing he was teasing her.
Ten couples were present for dinner. Anna and Edward Thomas were there and, as Drew had said, Rebecca Noble, Helen Moultrie and their husbands.
Amy watched as noodle soup was served. Mary Alyce picked up her chopsticks. Amy and a lady sitting across the table also chose chopsticks. Several guests looked at the soup, at the chopsticks, then at each other, not seeming to know what to do.
“Don’t feel as if you must eat as the Chinese do,” Mary Alyce said. “Use spoons if you want.” As she spoke, Drew deposited his chopsticks on the table, wiped his chin with a napkin, and reached for his soup spoon.
“There is no way,” he said as the others laughed at his immediate response. “Those things were invented by Satan himself.”
Mary Alyce looked down the table as Amy grasped some noodles between the sticks, wrapped them loosely around, and picked up the small soup bowl as she moved the food to her mouth.
“Congratulations, Ms. Barrett. You do it like a native. Where did you learn?”
Amy glanced around the table. She was one of only three people using their chopsticks. “My father was a college professor and, over the years, he had a number of students from China. My mother thought that they might miss home cooking, so she would have Chinese dinners for them. I sort of picked it up by watching.”
“I’ve tried to use chopsticks many times,” a lady down the table said, shaking her head, “I’ve never been able to get the hang of it.” She turned to Amy. “How do you eat rice? Grain by grain?”
“Not really.” Amy smiled. “You hold the bowl close to your mouth and just push the rice in. Americans’ real problem is that the Chinese don’t use the rules of Western etiquette. When I finish the noodles,” she gestured at her bowl, “I’ll sip the broth.” She laughed. “My sister and I loved Chinese food because we could do things that Mom ordinarily would have killed us for doing.”
“Elizabeth, you’re doing well,” Mary Alyce said.
“I learned how to use chopsticks years ago,” Elizabeth Richards replied. “My father was part of a diplomatic mission to China, back before President Nixon visited. Some of the spouses went along, and I was one of four teenaged girls.” She laughed. “Chinese army officers were assigned to take us around Beijing—we called it Peking, back then—and we went to the Great Wall and the Forbidden City.” She put her chopsticks down. “It was rather frightening at first. When we walked across Tiananmen Square, a horde of people converged on us. They came running across the square, pointing and screaming. One woman was shrieking as if she were frightened. The army officers sprang in front of them, the crowd stopped abruptly, and they just stared at us. It turned out that they had never seen Westerners before.”
“Life with a father in the diplomatic corps must have been interesting.” Drew sipped a spoonful of soup.
“It really was,” Elizabeth replied. “We lived in France for five years. I loved Paris, and I cried when we were transferred back to DC. I begged Daddy to refuse the transfer, but it was a big promotion.”
“I’m envious,” a woman at the end of the table said. “We spent a month in Paris, about three years ago, and I didn’t want to come home.”
Amy had wanted to visit Paris since ninth grade when she’d opened her book on the first day of French class. The pictures of Notre Dame, the Seine, and the Tuileries Gardens had seemed so exotic and romantic to her. As those at the table talked, Amy imagined herself walking the Champs Elyse, peering into stores, stopping at a small café for lunch, enjoying the sound of French spoken by Parisians. She visualized herself circling the Arc de Triomphe, then parking her bike on a bridge behind Notre Dame, maybe walking into Sacre Coeur, then standing on its steps, admiring the view of Paris.
She had never done any of these, but videos, books, and magazines had led her to know the city as if she had visited a hundred times. She had planned to go to Paris, but something—children, money, time, an unenthusiastic husband—had always prevented her from booking the trip.
“Where are you going this year, Helen?” Mary Alyce asked the woman.
“Nothing as dramatic. We’ll be in Japan for a couple of weeks.”
For over thirty minutes the group discussed their vacation plans for the coming year. One couple was taking a culinary tour in Tuscany—the husband loved cooking. Another was going on safari in the Serengeti. A third was crossing the former Soviet Union by train.
Amy recalled a similar conversation with women at her office once, although the destinations were not nearly as exotic. It was strange, though, she thought. In those other conversations, each person seemed to be intent on one-upping the others—one person’s trip to the Smokey Mountains might not seem as impressive as three nights in New Orleans. A week on Mackinac Island might trump New Orleans. In this group, no one seemed to be trying to impress the others. They were simply discussing their plans. Maybe there is a code of some kind that I’m missing, Amy thought.
“How about you, Drew?” Mary Alyce’s voice broke through Amy’s thoughts. “Any travel plans?”
“I was thinking of Paris.” Drew’s eyes cut quickly to Amy, then back to Mary Alyce. “Perhaps next summer.”
“You’ve never been to Paris, Drew?”
“Not since high school. Di and I traveled quite a bit, but Paris was never on the itinerary.”
“Our daughter went to Paris on her honeymoon last year.” Anna Thomas dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “She said she had a wonderful time, although, she cannot tell me much about the city.” A ripple of laughter passed around the table.
As the entrée was served—moo shu pork and fried rice—Drew turned to Anna. “How is your renovation going?”
Anna made a face. “Too many decisions. Do I want Italian tile or teak on the kitchen floor?”
Drew looked across the table. “What do you think, Edward?”
“I think plastic laminate would be nice.”
“He says that just to irritate me.” Anna shook her head.
Edward laughed. “I really don’t care. That’s all up to Anna.”
“I’d vote for teak,” someone said. “It’s all the rage now. Watch HGTV. You’ll see it everywhere.”
“Did you hear about the Laurens’s swimming pool?” Anna asked.
“Their new one?” Drew took a bite of the pork. “Delicious, Mary Alyce.”
“That’s right, the new one. The Preservation Board would not approve the plans. According to Edgar Laurens, it was just possible for someone to stand on the street and see a corner of the pool, provided the shrubbery had dropped all of its leaves and the person were seven feet tall.”
“They’re not as bad as that.”
“No,” Anna laughed. “But Edgar is revising their plans.” She put her fork down. “Did you hear, though, that the board has changed the color palette for houses in the historic district? Someone decided that three of the colors were not historically accurate, so they can no longer be used.”
“Tell me that white is still allowed.”
Anna gave an exasperated sigh. “Of course it is, Drew. But my blue color is not. When we paint next time, and we’ll need to do it next year, we’ll need to pick a new color.”
Drew smiled slightly. “It will be good to get that eyesore out of the neighborhood.”
“Eyesore? My house is the most beautiful building to ever grace the city of Charleston. You never have liked the color.
Drew Nelson, did you ask them to withdraw approval of my color?”
“I would never do such a thing, Anna.” Drew paused and grinned. “I would never have thought of it.”
Amy followed the conversation. It was such a different world than hers. Her biggest concern was making sure she had the grass cut and the gutters cleaned.
Finally, shortly after three o’clock, Amy and Drew strolled toward his car. The moon had set, the air was crisp and cool, and brilliant stars filled the sky. As they reached the corner, Amy stopped and turned to him.
“Your friends seem to be very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Drew,” Amy took a deep breath, “I’m different from them.”
“What do you mean?” He wore a puzzled expression on his face.
“They are different. They do things that…things ordinary people would only do in their dreams. The vacations! My trip to Colorado to visit my sister was one of three I can think of in twenty years that did not involve a rental house on the Isle of Palms. Your family owns a house there.” She wiped a tear from one eye.
“A month in Paris? Cooking school in Italy? Going on safari? Drew, I read about people doing those things. I don’t do them myself.”
He didn’t respond.
“The ball. The parties. I’m like the proverbial fish out of water.”
“True. The other fish can’t use chopsticks.”
“Don’t tease me, Drew.” She couldn’t stop a small smile. “I’m serious.”
Drew placed his hands on her shoulders. “My friends are no different from you. Some of them have more money, perhaps. Some of them had the foresight to pick great-great-great-grandparents who lived in Charleston, but they are really no different.”
He tipped her head back so that he could look into her eyes. “Not at all.” He kissed her.
“Drew Nelson, you take that lady home to tell her good night.” Anna and Edward Thomas approached them. “Although, I really can’t blame you for starting early.” She smiled as they passed. “See you at book club on Tuesday, Amy,” she called over her shoulder.
“See?” Drew kissed her again.
***
To Fall in Love Again Page 14