by Sally Quinn
“Well, Des,” said Worth Elgin, reaching for his drink, “what do you think the new Cabinet will look like? It seems to me Kimball’s going pretty fast. It’s only been two weeks.”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me you two are going to start right out,” Chessy said. “That’s all anyone thinks about in this town. I was hoping we could get in some good gossip before everyone arrives.”
“First of all, Chessy, politics is gossip, as I’m sure you’ll learn when you move to Washington.” Claire watched Des’s expression carefully.
Claire had looked quizzical when she heard Chessy say she hoped they weren’t going to talk politics all night. She would never have said that. One read the papers and tried to seem interested. Only when it got too boring did one fall back on sex. But it was risky and it usually didn’t work.
Des and Worth talked about the Administration. Archie rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes in that annoying way he had.
Lorraine wished somebody else would come. This was always the hardest part, when a few of the first guests arrived and everyone was half-standing, half-sitting.
“Claire,” she ventured, “how did your recital go?”
Claire brightened. “Oh, actually it went quite well. The New York World critic thought I was underexposed.”
Someone was coming in, and Lorraine couldn’t get away fast enough.
It was the Warburgs, looking eager. Thank God. They gave their coats at the door, ordered drinks, and came breezing in. Allen, ever the newsman, greeted the women perfunctorily and joined the men. “I bet I’d never guess what you are talking about.” He laughed the male-camaraderie laugh that accompanies good political discussion. Archie continued to tip back and forth on his heels.
It did not go unnoticed by Lorraine as the doorbell rang again that Des glanced up each time the waiter went to answer it. Chessy watched him out of the corner of her eye.
The Sakses, the Marsdens, and Michael Addison were the next to arrive. Still no guest of honor, still no Vice President, still no Allison. Lorraine was glad that the Vice President was a little late. She wanted the party on its feet when he arrived so that she could take him around. He will do well here, Lorraine decided. He understands how to make an entrance. It was now fifteen minutes after eight. He’d wait another ten or fifteen before getting here. She was annoyed about Lawrence. He should have been here at least a few minutes after eight.
Another group. The Elgins, Rufus Turner and his wife, Jane Fletcher and her husband. Bud and Helene Corwin.
She would never speak to Lawrence again if he didn’t arrive before the Vice President. If he arrived at the same time she’d have to murder him.
Just then she heard a small shriek and turned to see Edwina Abel-Smith gliding through the door, arm in arm with Lawrence, who had clearly had something to drink. The Ambassador followed with a resigned look. They must have met at the foot of the stairs. Edwina had known Lawrence in London and had always had a slight sneaker for him. But tonight, tonight it was fairly obvious that Edwina had made a decision. It was also fairly obvious that the dark-haired young woman standing next to Rodney glaring at the two of them was June—Oh, God, what was her name?—Lawrence’s friend.
Everyone in the room looked up at Edwina and smiled. She knew how to make an entrance. A hostess could count on Edwina.
“Darling Edwina, you have saved the evening,” Lorraine said gaily. “You have brought my guest of honor. Now do me a favor and take him around the room, will you, while I take care of Rodney and—oh, God what is that girl’s name?”
“Levitas. June Levitas,” said Edwina. That meant Edwina was serious. She had made the effort to learn the lady in question’s name. This meant that she was not going to make a play for the Vice President unless she decided to switch horses. Lorraine was disappointed.
Most of the men had fallen into little clumps. Senator Bud Corwin had staked out a spot in the center of the room. This way he was available for any journalist who wanted to ask his opinion or any woman who might want to flirt. Claire Elgin had had her eye on him since he arrived. As she walked over she smoothed her hair, licked her lips, and unconsciously touched her ample breasts.
But as Claire got to Corwin, Maria Marsden, wife of the outgoing Republican domestic adviser, approached him batting her eyes. “Tell me, Senator, who do you think the President has in mind for State?”
“Well, of course, there are a number of fine possibilities,” said Corwin, winding up for his spiel as though he were sitting down to a good dinner. Claire was going to have none of this. She knew it was almost a toss-up between sex and politics with Bud Corwin as long as the attention was on him, and she also knew he didn’t give a damn what Mrs. Marsden thought about his opinions on anything.
Usually Claire played the astute political journalist’s wife, nodding, listening, bringing out whomever she was speaking to. But Corwin was different. Claire had gotten Corwin’s signals before. His voice was fading out as he watched her approach. “Oh, let’s not talk about anything as boring as this Administration,” said Claire, risking the ploy. “It’s Friday night. Let’s relax. Let’s talk about sex.”
Mrs. Marsden nearly dropped her drink. Claire, prompted most likely by Chessy, had just broken the sacred Washington rule. Never bring up sex obviously. Mrs. Marsden backed off quietly.
Lorraine ran over the guest list. Allison still hadn’t come, and they were missing Travis. She busied herself making sure everyone had a drink and that the crudités and cheese puffs were being passed. She couldn’t concentrate on conversation until the Vice President arrived. Allison was usually so prompt; where was she?
Lorraine glanced toward Des. He was still talking to the men. She reminded herself that she would have to break that up. Chessy had not budged from the sofa. She had cornered a few women and was regaling them with tales of the jet set, celebrities and fashion personalities she ran with in New York and Europe. They had all followed her in the fashion magazines. They thought she must be pretty spectacular to be married to someone like Des.
The doorbell rang. Lorraine, chatting with the British Ambassador, made a move toward the door when Allison appeared in the hallway, Jerry Mendelsohn behind her. She drew her breath. She had never seen Allison look so beautiful. Her silver-blond hair, usually pulled back, was loose around her shoulders. Her dress was pale blue-gray cashmere. She looked elegant, confident, and untouchable.
Most of the room had turned to look at her. Allison was not theatrical, but she was aware of the effect she had on people and she seemed to take it in stride. Lorraine was watching Des. She saw Chessy with a look on her face that was nothing but fear. She knew.
“Sorry,” Allison whispered, kissing Lorraine on the cheek. “Jerry’s shuttle was late getting in and I decided to wait for him.”
The waiter brought her a glass of white wine and Jerry a whiskey.
“Oh, there’s Des,” she said, as if she were surprised. “C’mon over and say Hi to him, Jerry.”
Before Jerry had a chance to say anything, Allison excused herself and strode over to where Des was standing with Worth Elgin, Harry Saks, Craig Marsden, and Allen Warburg.
“Des, how are you?” She leaned over and gave him a friendly kiss—just enough to disturb, not enough to arouse suspicion.
Allison turned to the other men, leaving Des holding Jerry’s arm.
“Hello, everybody,” she said. She kissed the journalists, shook hands with Saks and Marsden. Allison did not like to be on kissing terms with politicians.
“Well, Sonny,” said Saks, “what do you hear from Uncle Rog?”
Allison flushed. It was a cheap shot, not uncharacteristic.
She smiled sweetly. “So far I haven’t heard who the President is going to appoint as Ambassador to England.”
Saks grimaced. He had thought it was his little secret that he wanted the Court of St. James’s.
“Speaking of appointments,” continued Allison, “I notice that Senator Corwin is run
ning for Secretary of State.”
“If it were a beauty contest he’d certainly have no trouble winning,” said Warburg dryly. They all turned to see Claire Elgin draped over Senator Corwin’s arm. The two were perched on opposite arms of a chair. It was a coup for Claire to have lured him out of the center of the room.
Saks took the opportunity to go speak to them. Corwin jumped from his perch and put his arm around Saks, leaving Claire balanced alone on her side of the chair and very much annoyed.
She moved over to Allison’s group and took her husband’s arm. He was unable to suppress a tiny smirk. Didn’t she understand that ego massage was what really turned them on?
“Hello, Sonny,” Claire said, leaning over to peck Allison on the cheek. She did not particularly like Allison, but Allison was a good extra woman at dinner—attractive, and now, of course, so close to the President. “You look heavenly. And that dress! Whose is it?” The hint of a fashion talk and the men began to turn away.
Allison had no intention of spending time talking to Claire Elgin about clothes or anything else. But Claire was pressing her.
“I whipped it up myself on my sewing machine, Claire,” said Allison.
Des laughed. Good.
“Jerry,” she said, “we haven’t seen Chessy. Is she here?” She was watching Des.
“Why don’t you two go over and say hello?” said Des. “I think I’ll just stay here and talk to Claire. Claire,” he said, “come over here and tell me everything.” Then to Worth, “You don’t mind, do you, pal?”
Allison made a beeline toward Chessy on the other side of the room.
Jerry took her by the arm to slow her down. “Are you sure you want to play it this way, Sonny?”
Jerry knew everything. He was the only one who did. He cared about her. He was worried that she would blow it.
“Relax, Jerry. I know what I’m doing,” she said.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt, kid.”
“I know. But I also know Des. I know what turns him on. Balls, for one thing. I’d much rather be at home with you watching The Late Show and having a pizza. But I’ve got to show him that I will not back down. Believe me, Jerry, if she isn’t gone by Monday morning, Des can go to hell.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down.”
Jerry was right, and Des would hate a scene. From the looks of Chessy, she was ready for one. It was obvious she was not having a good time.
It made Allison feel stronger. She was sure now she was going to win. She saw Chessy look up and notice Jerry with relief.
“Jerry, Jerry, Jerry,” she said in her husky lockjaw accent. “Christ, I thought I wouldn’t see a soul I knew here, and now, dear boy, you swoop down to rescue me.”
As she reached over to give Jerry a kiss, she saw Allison a few steps behind. She was slimmer, more beautiful, cooler than she’d imagined. After all these years, and all those women. Normally she was a fighter, but tonight Chessy felt tired. She looked across the room and found Des sitting on a sofa with Claire Elgin and caught his eye. He looked as though he were awaiting a terrible eruption and had sought the farthest spot to avoid the hot lava.
His face told Chessy only what she already knew. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of causing a scene. For once she would surprise him.
She moved away from Jerry and turned to Allison. “You must be Sonny Sterling,” she said softly. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m delighted finally to meet you. Lorraine talks about you all the time and Des has mentioned you many times. It must be exciting to be a woman in such a powerful position, to have so many men at your feet.”
Allison was caught off guard and disappointed. It would make it easier if she could hate Chessy. But she really wasn’t up to a giant catfight tonight either. Her bravado of a few minutes ago had drained her energy.
“Aren’t you nice to say so,” Allison said sincerely. Jerry looked amused.
“I’ve seen you many times in Fashion. Your pictures don’t do you justice.”
“Oh,” said Chessy. Her face softened. This girl wasn’t after blood at all. There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice. None. Maybe she had been wrong. No, she knew the truth. Well, maybe it was just as well. Though it would have made things easier if Allison had been a bitch. This girl didn’t seem like one. She seemed nice.
The doorbell rang and Irma moved toward the door. This time there was an electricity in the room that only happened when the President or Vice President was about to arrive. This was perfect timing. They would make an entrance to a full house. Brilliant. Many of them had only read about William and Sara Adabelle Grey. And many who had met or covered him hadn’t necessarily met his wife. She’d had pneumonia during the last six weeks of the campaign. But everybody knew that Sadie Grey was reputed to have a smart mouth. There had been hints that she was not the demure and dainty Georgia Peach they had expected at the beginning. There had been that incident in Oregon. The room reverberated with excitement.
Lorraine tried not to hover too anxiously. The others all tried to concentrate on their conversations.
Four Secret Service agents walked in and fanned out. That gave everybody a thrill. The Secret Service meant power. No matter how many times they experienced it, it always made them feel special, closer to the power themselves.
Sadie looked fabulous. She stood there framed in the doorway and for a moment everything stopped.
It was a moment unusual for Washington. Here were beauty and glamour as well as power. Somehow Sadie looked larger than life. She seemed slightly unreal in that already glittering group. She was vivid. She was clear. She was more than they expected.
Rosey moved in from the hallway a moment later, just long enough, although he wasn’t aware of it, for Sadie to have had the stage to herself. They stood there together for another moment, suspended.
For years afterward, everyone who had been at the party would remember that moment, the moment when Sadie and Rosey Grey had first entered Washington, when Washington had got the first glimpse of the Vice President-elect and his wife. For years afterward, Allison Sterling would remember too how, for reasons she would be able to explain only much later, she had felt suddenly sick.
Lorraine broke into the silence as though she had just experienced ten seconds of TV dead air. There was a burst of activity. “Bud, you know the Vice President-elect and Mrs. Grey,” she said a little too stiffly.
“And, of course, you know Harry.”
They shook hands politely.
Before Sadie had a chance to say anything Lorraine was leading her on to the next guest. “Edwina Abel-Smith, the wife of the British Ambassador. One of my dearest friends. I’m sure she will be one of yours too.”
Edwina took a long look at Sadie, a look that a man might give her, assessing her immediately as competition. In London, Edwina would have set out immediately to undermine Sadie. Washington was not a city known for its beautiful women. She had never really been able to quite figure out what happened to women who came here. Even attractive and glamorous women came to Washington and immediately went dowdy. She had vowed that that would never happen to her. Though she had less motivation here to keep up her looks, she had really made an effort not to flag. And except for Allison, there was no competition. Now here was competition, but it was competition she could not take a whack at. Rodney, as Ambassador, depended on his close association with those in power. They would need to be in tight with the Greys. Edwina would have to find another approach. They would have to become friends. Lorraine would arrange that.
She had been so busy with Sadie that she failed to notice Rosey, just to her right.
She turned her dazzling smile to him and made him a mock bow. “Governor,” she said, as she curled up the corners of her mouth. “What an honor.”
Rosey was taken aback. If there was one thing that made him uncomfortable it was any kind of approach from a woman that smacked of something sexual. Not that he wasn’t interested; it was just that he didn’t know how to
handle it. Years as a politician had convinced him that men who fell for passes by political groupies got into trouble.
Edwina raised her eyes from her little bow and looked up at Rosey, expecting to find a smile or a glint in his eyes. Instead she saw embarrassment and a slight unease. He covered it with a gentlemanly bow. “The honor is mine.”
From that instant Edwina felt a certain kinship with Sadie. Sara Adabelle Grey was not in love with her husband any more than she was with hers. Making friends with her would not be so hard after all.
Sadie barely had time to think about Edwina, though she noticed that she had come on a little to Rosey. That made her chuckle. The one thing Sadie never had to worry about was that her husband would go after other women.
Rodney was telling Rosey that he was a friend of his parents’ and saw them often in England. They fell into conversation about mutual friends, much to Lorraine’s chagrin.
She made a brief effort to pry them apart, until Sadie grabbed her hand.
“Oh, let them talk, Lorraine,” she whispered. “Everyone seems to be having such a good time. We’ll meet them all. Rosey’s found a friend. Why don’t you take me around? I’m dying to meet everybody.”
Lorraine didn’t enjoy leaving her prize behind, but it did seem that Rosey was enjoying himself, and people had resumed their conversations. She reminded herself that this was not a protocol evening. Better to let the Vice President-elect chat and keep an eye on him than drag him all over the room and then leave him standing alone. He’ll remember that it was relaxed and pleasant here and look forward to coming back. Besides, she could spot Allen Warburg heading toward Rodney and Rosey. It was after eight thirty, too. She wanted to start the buffet at nine. That would give everybody time.
