People Like Us (58 page)

“It’s Laurance,” repeated Janet, for the third time.

“Oh, my God!” cried Lil.

The instant Lil Altemus heard of her brother’s illness, from her tearful sister-in-law Janet Van Degan, she returned home from Rome, where she had been staying with her friends the Todescos, after what she always called her annual migration: Salzburg, for the music, Paris, for her fittings, and London, for the season.

In New York, she was met by Joe, her chauffeur, and a variety of officials from the Van Degan Foundation who had made arrangements to whisk her through customs without having to wait. She went straight from the airport to Manhattan Hospital, giving instructions to Joe as they drove to take her luggage on to the apartment on Fifth Avenue, to tell her maid Lourdes to unpack, to call Justine to join her for dinner, but not to bring the baby, and to return to pick her up at the hospital in an hour’s time. It was not necessary for Lil to stop at the information counter to ask what room Laurance Van Degan was in. All the Van Degans, for as
long as she could remember, during their illnesses, stayed in suite 690 of the Harcourt Pavilion of Manhattan Hospital.

When the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, she was met by Miss Wentworth, Laurance’s secretary, and even then, in her agitation and concern for her brother, Lil wondered anew why Miss Wentworth dyed her hair so very black.

“I hope your flight was satisfactory, Mrs. Altemus,” said Miss Wentworth.

“Yes, yes, fine,” replied Lil, walking down the corridor toward the room.

“And the customs?” asked Miss Wentworth, following, trying to keep in step.

“Yes, yes, fine. Right through. No wait. How is my brother, Irene?”

“Well,” said Miss Wentworth, cautiously. “His mouth. You’ll notice.”

“These are pretty,” said Lil in the sitting room of the suite as she entered, motioning to a large bouquet of roses. “There’s no one like Lorenza for roses. Who are they from?”

“Mrs. Harcourt,” replied Miss Wentworth.

“Sweet of Adele,” said Lil. She took a deep breath, knocked on the door of the bedroom, and walked in at the same time. Laurance Van Degan was lying in the hospital bed. Laurance, so large, so imposing, so utterly aristocratic, looked small and frightened to her.

“Oh, Laurance,” said Lil, as she bent down to kiss him.

“I’ve had a shitty little stroke, Lil,” said Laurance.

Lil was startled. She had never heard Laurance say
shitty
before. His mouth, she noticed, had moved to the side of his face. He looked to her rather like their father, Ormonde, after his stroke.

“Oh, Laurance,” she said again, and there was grief in her voice, for there was great affection between them. Her husband had failed her when he divorced her. Her father had failed her when he married Dodo
and left her his fortune, even if it was only for her life use. Her daughter had failed her by making an inappropriate marriage, and then divorcing even more inappropriately. Her son, oh, dear, how her son had failed her. Only her brother Laurance had not failed her throughout their lives.

“Don’t cry, Lil,” said Laurance.

“It’s so unfair, Laurance,” said his sister.

“They say the mouth will go back in place in time,” he said. His voice, coming as it was from a new position in his face, had a different quality, but its patrician intonations remained.

Lil watched him as he slowly lifted his left hand with his right hand and placed it on his stomach. When a nurse moved in to help, he waved her away with a slow shake of his head. “The left hand doesn’t work too well,” he said to Lil.

“It’s that damn Elias Renthal who’s responsible for this,” said Lil. She could neither forget nor forgive that Elias Renthal’s despicable financial manipulations had sullied the name of her brother, causing him to have to resign from the presidency of the Butterfield, which had broken his heart.

At that moment orderlies arrived.

“It’s time, Mr. Van Degan,” said the nurse.

“You caught me just as I’m on my way to therapy, Lil,” said Laurance, slowly.

“Oh, of course, you’re on your way to therapy. You know, Laurance, they do such marvelous things these days in therapy,” Lil said, using the enthusiastic voice she used for invalids who couldn’t move their arms. She didn’t need to tell her own brother that she, as chairperson of the Ladies’ League of Manhattan Hospital, had raised a million dollars at the spring dance for the Harcourt Stroke Center.

“Lil,” said Laurance.

“Yes, my darling,” answered Lil.

“Get out of the market,” he said.

“Get out of what?”

“The stock market, Lil.”

“Don’t you even
think
about the stock market, Laurance. You think about getting well.”

“There’s going to be a crash. Get hold of young Laurance as soon as possible. He’ll know what to do.”

With that, the orderlies wheeled the bed out of the room.

“Paris isn’t what it used to be. Six hundred dollars a night for a room at the Ritz, a
room
, my dear, not even a suite, and if you could have
seen
the kind of people,” said Lil Altemus, with a shudder. “All those ghastly common women with their horrid little clipped dogs having lunch at the Rélais Plaza. Arabs everywhere you look. And the clothes are a disaster this year. Skirts up to
here
. I saw Loelia in Paris wearing one of those new dresses. She looked ridiculous, at her age, and she’s had something else done to her face. She can’t even smile anymore, her face is so tight. She sort of purses her lips, like this, look.”

Every year for as long as she could remember, Justine Altemus had been listening to her mother say how awful the people were in Paris, how expensive everything was, and what a disaster the clothes in the
couture
were that year. Justine only half listened, making an appropriate comment from time to time, waiting for the moment when she could tell her own news.

“I have some news for you, Mother,” she said, finally.

Lil realized that Justine was not interested in hearing about her trip. She rang her silver bell. “Parker,” she said, when her butler appeared.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will you tell Gertie that the vinaigrette has too much oil?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But the asparagus is delicious. Perfection, tell her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My dear,” she said, when the butler had disappeared, “the Todescos’ chef could make a vinaigrette sauce like you never tasted before. Something about egg whites, I think.”

“Oh, Mother, so what?” said Justine, impatiently, bursting to tell her news.

Lil looked at her daughter with surprise.

“You’ve changed,” she said.

“You haven’t,” replied Justine, meeting her eye. She remembered that Hubie used to sing, “It seems to me I’ve heard this song before,” when their mother went on and on about the same things year after year.

Lil thought about making a retort to her daughter’s rudeness, or what appeared to her to be rudeness, but decided to let it pass. “Do you know that your Uncle Laurance, even in the hospital, even with his stroke, is thinking about his family? Do you know what he said to me today? ‘Get out of the market,’ he said. As they were wheeling him to the stroke center for his therapy, he said, ‘Get out of the market.’ ”

Justine nodded. “Young Laurance called me about that today,” she said.

“Do what he tells you. Your Uncle Laurance always knows. Have you been to the hospital to see him?” asked Lil.

“I sent a note, and flowers,” said Justine. “And I stopped by the apartment to see Aunt Janet.”

“Janet’s fallen apart completely,” said Lil, who was proud of her reputation in the family for holding steadfast in crises. People still remarked about how bravely she had dealt with Hubie’s death.

“Herkie Saybrook said that young Laurance said that Uncle Laurance didn’t really want to see anyone until he moves a bit better. Bad for the business or something if everyone knows his mouth is on the side of his face and his left hand just hangs there,” said Justine.

“Still, you should have gone. You’re not just anyone. You are his niece, after all.”

“I will, when he can move better,” replied Justine.

“In no time, he’ll be as good as new. The Harcourt Stroke Center at the hospital is the best in New York, and I’m proud to say that I personally am responsible for raising a million dollars for it at the annual spring dance at the Rhinelander.”

Parker cleared away the asparagus plates and reappeared with plates for the main course.

Lil placed her hand on her plate to see if it had been properly warmed.

“Herkie said—”

“Herkie, Herkie, Herkie. How many times are you going to tell me what Herkie Saybrook said?” Lil had still not forgiven Herkie Saybrook for writing Hubie’s will. “The sole looks marvelous, Parker. Tell Gertie perfection.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Herkie’s on the board of the hospice, and I see him at the meetings, and we talk.”

Lil shook her head impatiently. The hospice. The Hubert Altemus, Jr., Hospice. She could not bear that her son’s name was connected to it. She believed that the money should have been contributed anonymously, if it had to be contributed. She could not bear also that her daughter worked there with such passion.

“How long are you going to continue working there? Hasn’t this Nurse Edith Cavell performance gone on long enough?”

Justine stared at her mother. “As long as they need me,” she answered, evenly.

“What about your child?”

“My child, as you call him, has a name, Mother. He’s called Hubie, after my brother, or your son. He’s a year old and you’ve never called him by name once that I can recall. ‘Your baby,’ you say, or ‘your child.’ Never Hubie.”

“That’s not a very attractive tone of voice, Justine.”

Justine did not reply.

“How is, uh, little Hubie?” Lil asked. The name pained her.

“He walks. He talks. Most grandmothers would be ecstatic to have such a divine creature, but, then, you’re not most grandmothers,” said Justine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, Mother, let’s not fight. You’re just back. Uncle Laurance is sick. I’m being cranky. And I have something important to tell you.

“You’re not getting married again, are you?” she asked, excitedly. “If you want to make your old mother happy, that’s what she wants to hear.”

Justine shook her head. “No, I’m not getting married.”

“Are you in love then? Oh, how marvelous, Justine. You have been holding out on me.”

Justine shrugged. “I have what’s called the occasional suitor. Herkie Saybrook takes me out to dinner, and would take me out more if I gave him a bit of encouragement, and there’s a doctor I met at the hospital who’s attractive, and I see him from time to time, but I’m not planning to get married, at least not right now. If it happens, it happens, but it’s not my priority. I like the work I do at the hospital, and I’m good at it, and the patients like me and ask for me, and it has given me a great deal of satisfaction. And, Mother, I’ve been asked to be the executive head of the hospice.”

“Is that what your news was?”

“Yes, Mother, that’s what it was. I know it’s not in the same league of importance as the Todescos’ chef’s recipe for vinaigrette sauce, or the length of Loelia’s skirts.”

“Please don’t be sarcastic, Justine. If that’s important to you, then it’s very nice, but I would like to point out to you that all the Van Degan women have always felt a responsibility to the city of New York.”

“Yes, that’s what I feel, Mother.”

“I’m not finished, Justine. I think that perhaps where you can be of greater service to the city is if you come on the board of the Van Degan Foundation. I’ll
talk to Uncle Laurance tomorrow when I go to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to be on the board of the Van Degan Foundation, Mother, and I am very much aware that the Van Degan Foundation does many good things for the city, but I have found something in my life that is really important to me.”

“Hmm,” said Lil.

“Mother, all my life I’ve been identified as Laurance Van Degan’s niece, or Mrs. Van Degan Altemus’s daughter, or, worse, the Van Degan heiress, as Dolly De Longpre always calls me in her column. Now I’m Justine Altemus, all by myself, without even the terrible word
socialite
in front of it, because no one knows I’m Uncle Laurance’s niece, or if they know, it’s not any more important to them than it is to me.”

“I think we’ll have coffee in the library, Parker,” said Lil. “And bring some cookies for those naughty doggies, will you? And tell Gertie the eggplant soufflé was yummy.”

For a moment after Lil sat in her regular seat in the library, Justine thought her mother was going to cry. Then she lifted her face and looked at her daughter. “Why don’t they call it the Juanito whateverhisnamewas Hospice, rather than the Hubert Altemus, Junior, Hospice?” asked Lil.

“Good-bye, Mother,” said Justine. “I’m going home to my baby.”

“You’re not staying for coffee?”

“No, I’m not staying for coffee.”

Justine rose and walked out of the room and out of the apartment.

54

The previous day the stock market had fallen five hundred and eight points, exactly as Elias Renthal had told Ruby, and Max Luby, and Laurance Van Degan it was going to do, and exactly as Laurance Van Degan had told his sister, Lil Altemus, it was going to do, and a mild hysteria swept the lunch crowd at Clarence’s where all the familiar faces were occupying all the best tables, and people were waiting three deep at the bar for the familiar faces to finish their chicken paillard and decaffeinated cappuccino and leave, but no one wanted to leave that day.