House Party (23 page)

"Yes, I really do, Paul," Betty said as she switched off the ignition. "I think it's the most exciting idea I've ever heard in my life! Why, you could sell those houses for twenty thousand dollars apiece on their looks alone. And the really important thing is that you don't want to. You're going to give those people sun and air and space for six thousand dollars instead of . . .”

"Thanks, Betty," Paul said. "You mean I
was
going to do all that.
I guess now I'll probably wind up as a junior partner at Rabadab Associates."

"But, Paul,
why?
If you know how to house people this nicely
and this cheaply, it's almost, well, it's your
duty
—though I hate
to use that word because it sounds like Daddy—to go out and . . .”

"You forget about Claire."

"Paul, you're making too much of that. She'll come around.
I know she will. Any woman would for the man she loves. It's not as though you were asking her to the last frontier. You're offering her a comfortable house in a quite civilized community as well as
the chance to help you in really important . . ."

"You don't understand. Claire's work is important to her too."

"My
work is important to me, but not so important that I couldn't drop it to be with somebody I loved. Claire will feel the same, really she will."

"Betty, would you come in and tell her? Tell her what you just
told me?"

"I certainly would not! And I'd be furious if any other woman tried to sell me a bill of goods like that. This isn't something you
tell
somebody. It's something women just
know.
Give her a chance.
She'll do what's right."

"Well, come in anyhow. Have a drink. Have a cup of coffee."

"I've just
had
a cup of coffee, Paul.
Three
cups of coffee. I really
can't move in on your poor mother when she has a house full of
people." Betty was again conscious of Bryan Ames. It was bad
enough to be left waiting in the lurch by a man, but to appear to be running after him was
too
much. "No, thanks again for the
coffee, Paul, and it's really been stimulating. I
mean
it. I wish you
all kinds of luck and . . ."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, shut up and come in." Paul half dragged
her from the car into the hall.

"Paul. Stop it! Let me go! Paul Ames, I . . ."

"Mother! Aunt Violet! What in the name of God do you think
you're doing?"

"I think we're
dusting,
Paul. Good morning, dear. Good morning,
Betty. Heavens, you've been up and out! I thought you were still in your bed."

"Dusting? What for?"

"Oh, Paul! This is such fun!" Violet cried. "I feel like a
bride
again!" Violet simpered prettily at Paul and Betty and flicked the
newel post with a feather duster. She was wearing a Nile-green
negligee, long gloves to protect her hands and her hair was swathed in a length of green tulle.

"Have you lost your minds?" Paul asked anxiously.

"No, darling, but we've lost Lutie and Jonas. You'll find the rest
of the young people scattered about the place. Elly and Kathy and Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Burgess are cooking lunch."

"And Felicia and Bryan and Mr. Stone and Miss Devine are all down on the beach," Violet added vivaciously. "It's such a lovely
day for a swim."

'Things got off to rather a bad start this morning " Mrs. Ames
said, picking up a few stray petals from a bouquet on the table,
"but now we seem to be more or less on an even keel. You will
have to make your own bed, Paul, and if you have any little cook
ing specialty, I know you'll be useful in the kitchen. We're going to have a picnic lunch . . ."

"Don't you adore a picnic!" Violet said, moving the bouquet an
inch to the left and scattering a lot more petals.

"As I was saying," Mrs. Ames raised her voice. "We're having a
picnic luncheon and I do hope you can join us, Betty."

"Oh, Mrs. Ames, when you've got all this
trouble,
I wouldn't
dream
of barging in on you! Besides, Daddy will . . ."

"And how
is
the dear general?" Violet said coyly.

"Be still, Violet! Betty, believe me," Mrs. Ames said, "I'm not
being entirely selfless. If you have two willing hands, you're wel
come. If you know how to wash dishes, you're most cordially in
vited. And if you know how to cook, you're
essential.''

"Well of course I know how to cook and do all those things. I've
been running Daddy's house for as long as I can remember."

"Do you know what to do with a ham?"

"What kind of a ham?"

"Armour," Mrs. Ames said briskly.

"Aren't those the people from Chicago we met at . . " Violet began.

"Well, you don't have to do
anything
with one. But if you sort of rub them down with a little sherry and brown sugar and some cloves and bake them in a very slow oven . . ."

"You're staying for lunch, child! Paul, take her right out to the kitchen."

"Oh, and Lily," Violet shrilled, "why don't we telephone the general and ask him if
he
can come, too. He was so . . ."

"Speaking of the telephone, Violet," Mrs. Ames said as Paul and Betty disappeared, "there's something I want to ask you right now: Did you or did you not take the check I gave you on Friday to the telephone company?"

"Why, Lily, let's
see.
First I went to the post office and mailed a lot of things for you. Then I went to the hairdresser. Then I ran into Eva Hardesty—she's had a gall-bladder operation, you know; lost simply
tons
—and she said . . ."

"Violet, don't worry about Eva's gall bladder.
Did you or did you not
take the check to the telephone company?"

"Well, Lily, it seemed to me at the time that I'd done everything you asked me to do—salted almonds, olives, cocktail onions, everything—but now . . . now . . ."

"Now the telephone is as still as death."

"Lily! It must be in my green lizard purse. I’ll run right around with it. After all, I own a lot of their stock and we did have the first telephone in Pruitt's Landing."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Tuesday, Violet This is Sunday and tomorrow's a legal holiday. In the meantime we're marooned, all because of you and your silly . . ."

"Oh, Lily, dear, please don't
chide
me today. I have the
fatigue d'amour.
The general was
so
ardent, pressing my hand and whispering all those sweet nothings."

"Oh dear! The general! I'd quite forgotten."

"Yes, dear. He was so ardent! He kept calling me 'Lovely Lady' and spoke of marriage and settling in
here,
of all places. And as it got light, he seemed so surprised that . . .”

"He probably never really expected you to keep the, er, rendezvous," Mrs. Ames said quickly.

"Ah, but Lily, he's so strong, so forceful! He's a man who can
dominate
me. Dearest, do you believe in twilight love? Do you think that a man like Walter and a, er, a girl like me—no longer young in years, perhaps, but young in our romance—could go hand in hand down the sunset trail to find happiness in the autumn of our . . ."

"I believe, Violet, that you have lost whatever poor little mind you ever had. I also believe that you and I can go hand in hand up those stairs to make some beds. Poor Nanny can't look after Felicia's children and tidy the whole upstairs as well. As for you and that lecherous old goat . . ."

"Lily! Don't let the green-eyed monster of envy come between us! Happiness awaits you too, dear, it's never too late! And you can be my bridesmaid . . ."

"The beds await you, Violet. And you can be my chambermaid."

By now the kitchen was operating more or less efficiently. Kathy had been able to locate almost everything she needed and Elly, painfully conscious of Joe's watchfulness, had turned into a more willing helper than might have been expected. Already she had sufficient competence to hard boil two dozen eggs, trim the crusts fairly neatly from several loaves of bread, and rip up quite a lot of lettuce and romaine for a tossed salad. She felt that her performance was adequate if not exactly praiseworthy. Anyhow, it was kind of fun with John and Joe washing up after her and making cracks and guzzling beer.

Kathy was of many mixed emotions. She rather enjoyed puttering around a kitchen. It was relaxing and she was in a mood to relax. She would have liked Manning to be here in the kitchen, instead of down on the beach, to see her in this more natural domestic phase, but then if Manning had been on hand she would have had to keep up her man-killing line of gay repartee and that wouldn't have been a bit restful. On the other hand, Manning had looked so adorable in his lovely white silk pajamas this morning, when she had taken his breakfast up to him, that she'd hardly been able to endure the sight of him.
Still,
he might have been making a better impression on Elly if he'd been here helping. Yet, if you looked at it another way, he was down on the shore with Bryan, getting to know him; charming him as he had charmed Kathy. That was important too. As for Elly, Kathy was still so angry at her for what she had said—or rather what she
hadn't
said—about Manning that she could have slapped her.

"Hallelujah! It's Betty Cannon," Elly shouted as Betty and Paul appeared. "Do you know what to do with lobsters?"

"Certainly. You steam them in a court bouillon."

"You what in a what?"

"That means you put equal parts of white wine and water—just a small amount—in the bottom of a big kettle. Then when it gets to boiling you toss in the lobsters and give them a kind of Turkish bath for fifteen minutes or so. It's better if you add a
bouquet garni."

''Flowers?
Go on!"

"Not quite, Elly. A
bouquet garni
is a bay leaf, a sprig of . . "

"Put on an apron, Betty. We're having lobster for the picnic."

Clams in Aspic

(Courtesy of Lutie and Jonas Iscariot)

Deviled Eggs Eleanor

Homard Froid Mayonnaise à la Elizabeth Cannon

(Mayonnaise by Miss Katherine Ames)

Cucumber Sandwiches (Kathy)

Hot Ham Sandwiches (Betty)

Leftover Chicken Sandwiches (Elly)

Communal Tossed Salad

Macédoine of Fruit in Gin
(Joseph Sullivan)

Hot Coffee à la Katherine Ames
Iced Tea à la Eleanor Ames

Beer Bourbon Rye A
little
Scotch Rhine Wine Water

Pots, pans, bowls, dishes and glasses washed in Fab by
John Burgess

Sandwiches wrapped, hampers packed by Joe Sullivan

While the Lucullan picnic was being tenderly loaded into a collection of hampers, Elly, her tongue between her teeth, sat at the kitchen table scrawling out the elaborate menu.

"Why, Elly," Mrs. Ames said, reading over her daughter's shoulder, "what a superb menu! Do you mean you young people managed to cook all
that
and breakfast,
too?"

"It was nothing," Elly said casting a glance toward Joe.

"La, but I'm simply
amazed
at what you young people can do nowadays," Violet cried. "Why Felicia is the most domestic little thing! There isn't anything she
can't
do around the house."

"Yeah, she was a
great help
this morning," Elly said. "She made a baked Alaska and barbecued a haunch of venison and scrubbed the kitchen floor and . . ."

"She
did?"
Violet said.

"Well, too many cooks, you know," Mrs. Ames said quickly, giving Elly a dark look.

"Tiens, tiens, tiens,"
Uncle Ned said, sweeping into the kitchen. "I've searched the house high and low for you only to find you all gathered out here like a pack of scullery maids."

"We
are
a pack of scullery maids, Uncle Ned," Mrs. Ames said.

"And it's such fun!" Violet said. "I've dusted and dusted and dusted!"

"But what of your staff, Lily, dear girl?"

"My staff has decamped, Uncle Ned. How was church?"

"Too thrilling, my dears! There were three Bourbons there. They were visiting somebody at Southampton. It's really quite a smart parish for
America."

"What was the sermon about, Uncle Ned?"

"Oh. Oh,
that?
Oh, very nice, indeed. Um, yes. And, uh, now," he said hastily, "what is
this
I see?"

"We're having a picnic, Uncle Ned," Violet said. "Won't that be fun? Just like the old days. Will you ever forget the picnics we used to have?"

"Will I ever forget, indeed! Ah, Violet, dear girl, those
were
picnics. A footman behind every chair, little cold squabs stuffed with pâte, champagne and . . ."

"Well, today you'll be sitting on the ground with a praying mantis standing behind you and lucky to be getting . . ."

"Eleanor!"

"Sorry, Mother." Elly wiped her hands on her blue jeans and stomped out.

The picnic was to be held in the Secret Place, a clearing in the forest at the edge of the beach about half a mile from the house. Originally planned by dear Papa as a sylvan spot for picnics, the Secret Place had been carefully created by two architects and a landscape specialist who had been engaged to make the forest look far more rustic than it naturally was. Grotesque rocks and trees had been imported from quite improbable places to surround an impossible structure that looked half like a setting for
Hansel and Gretel
and half like a geisha house. In its original glory it had been about as secret as Grant's tomb, widely photographed and publicized in fashionable magazines of the day. But now the salt air had withered the arboreal curios so assiduously nurtured. Scrub oak and beach plum had choked the life out of more exotic blooms and the quaint pavilion was falling rapidly into creaking decay.

"Looks like the old Charles Addams place," Joe said, setting down the hampers.

"Kathy and I used to play house in it. But it didn't work out very well because I was so much younger and whenever she'd put up curtains and doll dishes and things I'd rip 'em right down. Finally she walked out."

"I wouldn't mind playing house with you," Joe said. He put his arms around her and kissed her for a long, long time.

"Wow!” Elly said. She drew a deep breath. "Listen, Sullivan, I've been
thinking
about this marriage business. I've decided I don't want to wait until your book gets published, I want to do it just as soon as possible."

"Elly," he said and kissed her again.

"All we have to do is find a little hole in the wall someplace and move in. I've got a bed and a dresser and a Vic and some records and half interest in an easy chair. We can take those things from where I live now. Mother'll give us some stuff too. She's got more junk here than she can ever use and a whole lot more in storage. Shell be glad to get rid of it. We only need a place to live. The fixing we can take care of evenings and over weekends and stuff. The important thing is being married."

"Listen, Elly," he said pressing her hand, "I cant let you into this without telling you one or two facts of life."

"I think I know them. In
theory,
at least. It's
practice
I'm interested in."

"No. I mean about me. Look, I'm only making seventy-five bucks a week."

"Good for you! That's twenty more than I'm making,"

"But, Elly, we couldn't live . . ."

"We're alive
now,
aren't we? I'm going to keep on working until you give me an obvious reason to stop. That's two salaries and only one rent bill, one light bill, one phone bill . . ."

"But, Elly, there are things like rings and . . ."

"You can get a wedding ring for five bucks. They're advertised all over."

"But an engagement ring—a big rock . . ."

"I'd only lose it if I had one. Look here, Sullivan, you've scared the hell out of me this weekend! But now that I've hooked you I'm not giving in, see?" She wound her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her nose against his. "You try to back out of this and I’ll yell the place down. I'll tell people I'm pregnant and you did it and get Bryan after you with a shotgun!"

"Elly!" He kissed her again. When they broke apart he said: "I've kind of talked to your mother about this, but I suppose I ought to do something more formal."

"Like what?"

"Oh, like make a declaration; have a man-to-man with your Uncle Ned . . ."

"That
old pantywaist?"

"Well, you know—a little talk with the head of the family; make my position clear; tell somebody I'm free from disease and unable to support you in the manner to which you're accustomed."

"I'm not accustomed to much."

"So I see," Joe said a little bitterly.

"I support myself " Elly said complacently.

"Yeah? Anyway, I still ought to have that little talk with the head of the family."

"Well, suit yourself. Talk to Bryan. I guess he's the head of the family now. Besides he's the nicest and the easiest. But I never did see why all this rigamarole was necessary when two people simply want to . . ." Joe began to kiss her again.

"Ahem," John Burgess said, grinning down at them.

Joe and Elly sprang apart.

"I'm
awfully
sorry. I should have knocked on a tree," John said.

"Well, you may as well be among the first to know," Elly said. "I've gone and hooked myself a husband. This is him—
he."

"Congratulations!" John said, shaking Joe's hand.

"But don't say anything about it, will you?" Joe said. "Not until I talk to Bryan."

"My gentleman of the old school!" Elly said hugging him.

Through the trees they could hear the voices of the others. Violet's the loudest. "And then, darlings, what do you suppose Goldilocks saw?"

"She saw a horrid little house where three silly bears lived," Emily piped.

"W-well,
yes,
darling, that's just what she did see."

"Well then don't tell that old story again. Tell us something new!"

"No!'
Robin screamed. "Tell about Goldilocks."

"If you tell about Goldilocks, Granny, I'll hold my breath and . . ."

"Cute kids, aren't they?" John asked as if for confirmation.

The picnic had gone quite well—far better than Mrs. Ames felt she had any reason to expect. She smiled her approval on her daughters. What nice girls they had been—Elly in her brusque, forthright way; Kathy in her competent, domesticated fashion. Today Kathy seemed more her old self. She wasn't being silly or brittle or shy or deadly gay. Instead, she had dealt out lobsters and sandwiches; seeing that everyone had enough of everything. She was relaxed. This is really Kathy's niche, Mrs. Ames thought. She's a born homemaker and if only that Mr. Stone will let her make the right kind of home, I'll do my best to love him. If only he weren't so, so
indestructibly
elegant.

Rising, Mrs. Ames said, "It's been a lovely picnic, children, and I can't begin to thank you enough for all the help you've been. And now," she said firmly, "Violet and Uncle Ned and Nanny and Sturgis and I are going to take all these things back and wash up."

"Oh, please don't," Kathy said.

"Hell no, Mother," Elly added, "we can do all that. You go home and relax."

"No, I want a little practice at dishwashing. And with Auntie Violet and Nanny to help it won't take any time at all. Come, Uncle Ned, you can tell Claire about your picnic with the next to the last King of Greece some other time."

Uncle Ned looked a little hurt, but with Sturgis' aid, he got up off the steamer rug, fed Fang his last bit of lobster and said: "Ah, yes, back to my quill and foolscap! My publishers will be so cross with me if my memoirs aren't finished by fall. They do
drive
me so! Come Fang, Sturgis. A
bientôt!"

"Come with Granny, darlings " Violet called.

"No!" Emily said.

'"Wanna stay here! Wanna stay with Unca John."

"Oh,
take
them!" Felicia sighed.

"Let them stay, dear," John said. "They're in nobody's way.”

"They'll be good,” Kathy said. "Besides, they're wearing Nanny out."

With full measure of bustle and confusion, the picnickers separated. The old trudging back to the house, the young stretching out on the turf.

"Well, Betty," Bryan said, looking reproachfully at her, "did you change your mind?”

"Change my mind, Bryan?"

"About our appointment this morning. After I'd waited at the bath house for an hour and a half I came to the conclusion that maybe you'd thought better of the whole thing and decided to . . .”

"At the
bath
house? Bryan, you said the gatehouse. And I got there on the dot of . . ."

"Oh, Betty, please don't pull my leg. It's not that I'm mad or anything—just kind of hurt and . . " This was going awfully well. Even better than Bryan had expected—bath and gate were such
similar
words! Here they were on the outskirts of the crowd, having this quiet little talk. In a minute she'd forgive him, he was sure of it.

"Bryan, I swear you said 'gatehouse' and I was
there.
I even have witnesses. Paul and Claire saw me."

"Gosh, Betty, I'm sorry. It was just one of those misunderstandings, I guess. I was terribly disappointed, but, gee, if it was just a mistake like that, well . . ." He took her hand and kissed it very gently.

Looking into those big black eyes with those lustrous lashes, Betty forgave him in an instant. She'd probably been wrong all along, so lovesick last night that she couldn't even understand English. "It's all right, Bryan," she said softly, "now that I understand why you weren't at the gatehouse. A girl just doesn't like to feel that she's been stood up, that's all. Maybe we can take a walk or go for a swim or something this afternoon. That is if you feel . . ."

"Can I mix anybody a drink?" John called. "Betty? Felicia? Claire?"

"No thanks," Betty called back.

"You can make me a good strong Scotch," Felicia said. "Oh, I'm dead!" She fell dramatically back onto her cushion.

"What do you mean you're dead, Muvver?" Robin whimpered.

"She doesn't mean that she's really dead, dear," Kathy explained hurriedly. "She just means that she's very tired."

"Absolutely exhausted!" Felicia sighed.

Elly stopped chopping ice and glared up at her cousin. "Well, I'd like to know exactly what the hell you're exhausted
from,
Felicia. You haven't turned a hand all day. Breakfast in bed at half-after ten and then the whole morning on the beach. And you, too, Manning! And you, Bryan, of
all
people! The idea, lolling around in the sack and then ringing for your breakfast to be brought up when Kathy and John and Joe and I are sweating away in the kitchen. Paul and Betty were the only ones of the whole lot of you who . . ."

Betty withdrew her hand from Bryan's very quickly. She got up. "Excuse me," she said and ran toward the house.

"Hey, Betty!" Bryan shouted and started after her. Then he stopped. Better wait. Give her a little time to cool off. He glared at Elly but she stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned. Well, it was just one of those things. He'd make it up to Betty later. Now, with great purpose, he set about helping his sisters to tidy up from the picnic.

Felicia, choosing not to dignify Elly's pointed remarks with comment, lay back with her eyes closed. "Thank you, darling,” she said as John handed her a drink. She sipped languidly and then made a face. "John! I said
Scotch.
You know I can't bear this cheap rye!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," John said, "I just reached for the first old bottle I could find and . . ."

"There
isn't
any more Scotch," Elly began, "it's all been . . ."

"Here, Muvver," Robin screamed, "you kin have my lemonade! You kin have it
all
if you don't like that." He loped across the clearing. "Here, Muvver! Here!" One of his toes caught at the edge of Felicia's cushion. He tripped and fell flat across her supine body. "Ooooof!" Felicia said. There was a sharp, cracking sound of a slap and Felicia sat up, her eyes blazing, the whole of a glass of lemonade spreading obscenely across the front of her white sharkskin dress.

Manning, attuned to scenes by habit, felt that he had never heard a silence last quite so long.

Robin, a crybaby by the most charitable of definitions, was too stunned to do anything but sit where he had fallen. Gradually two huge tears formed in his blue eyes and slid down his face.

Emily broke the stillness by bursting loudly into tears.

"Robin!" Kathy said, and swept him up into her arms.

"Oh, come off it, Em," Elly said, digging a soiled handkerchief out of her blue jeans. "The world isn't coming to an end just because your brother took a pratfall."

"Really, Felicia " John said quietly. "He was only trying to . . ."

"Oh, shut up!" Felicia screamed, leaping to her feet.

"Oh, Felicia," Claire said. "Your lovely dress! It was a Mainbocher wasn't it? And I . . ."

"And you too, you little whore!" Felicia stomped away, teetering on her heels.

Robin began to weep, trying his best to out-do his sister. Except for that and the cooing, clucking sounds made by Kathy and Elly there was a thundering quietude.

At length John said: "I think we all might have a swim and—and sort of cool off. How about it?"