“Meaning you’d need to issue a statement?” said Shiva.
“Exactly.”
“Anyone else want a drink?” said Janis.
“Well, I don’t need to issue a statement,” said Joe, “but I may.” He gestured towards the stairs with his head. “Normal strength, please,” he added. Andrew and Shiva both declined. Janis went into the kitchen.
“Nice girl,” said the Governor once she had disappeared. “Extremely competent – and in love with me, I fear.”
“You shouldn’t have let her do that,” said Shiva.
“George has this problem,” said Andrew.
One does sometimes, Andrew reflected, have experiences with persons of the opposite sex that split one open as lightning can a tree. Rosemary had had that effect on Andrew. He hoped to survive. Venetia of the bathtub had left her mark. But this happened to George all the time. He was supposed to be a lady killer but, actually, what distinguished him was excess susceptibility.
Andrew knew this because they had discussed it in some detail shortly after two a.m. one winter night outside Quincy House. You have to be pretty drunk to stand around outdoors in Cambridge in January, so of course they achieved major insights about the nature of the universe and whether a girl named Andrea was a goddess or a manipulative bitch. George took the former view. He always did, until he got tired of the girl. Andrew never went out with girls like Andrea – never had the courage to pursue them – so he tended to be dismissive of them.
“Love complicates relationships,” Shiva was saying.
“Is that why you people do arranged marriages?” said Joe.
“No. But it gets things off on the right foot.”
“Not being in love?” said Joe.
“No expectations. Not knowing each other before the wedding. After that, of course, there are no guarantees. Sometimes one falls in love. It’s not a matter of volition. That’s why it’s called ‘falling.’”
Watching Shiva watch Judy appear and disappear as she set the table, Andrew decided he couldn’t tell whether Shiva thought falling in love with someone was a blessing or a burden. He had no idea, really, what Rosemary and Shiva’s marriage was like, beyond the reported shortage of “soft.” He just wanted it to evaporate. In that regard, he was as complicit in Judy’s impending ravishment as anyone.
“Women fall in love with me who have never met me,” said the Governor. “They write me letters. I have to have someone screen my mail, so I can say I’ve never seen them.”
“Oh, I get letters,” said Joe. “And outrageous propositions. In a hotel elevator once – but it doesn’t matter. It’s the money that makes that happen.”
“Money and power,” said Shiva.
“Power even more than money, I suspect,” said the Governor.
“You know,” said Joe, “I’d actually prefer it if the girl said, ‘Look, I’ll do my best to satisfy you, but I am primarily interested in you because you’re rich. That will be a hundred million dollars, please.’”
Shiva laughed. “Is that your going rate?”
“Yeah,” said Joe, looking momentarily embarrassed.
“Well, I don’t have a hundred million dollars,” said the Governor.
Nor do I, said Andrew to himself.
“All I can offer is a little slice of fame, a little piece of George. And the smart ones realise that I am taking a risk with my career, which counts as courage, which is also an aphrodisiac. Or I used to do that. I’m a good boy now.”
“He is going to run for President,” said Shiva, turning to Andrew.
They all laughed.
Venetia of the bathtub had looked out for Andrew all that shooting party weekend. She explained the jokes. She stood beside him in a clearing in the woods as pheasants flew over them. She gave him enough instruction on the use of a shotgun that he was able to bring down a dozen of the birds – and told the hostess he was “a natural.” Best of all, she adopted a pensive manner that convinced everyone they were having wonderful sex, which gave him standing with the other men, which had presumably been his assignment. “That American you sent us did very well,” he could imagine important Francis telling the man who ran his firm’s London office.
Pretending to be in love had been quite pleasant until the last night, when he started to cry. He had not intended to do that.
“Oh, my sweet American,” said Venetia. “What has happened to you?”
“I want to be unfaithful,” he stammered, “and I wish I didn’t.”
“How perfectly awful,” she said. “Not wanting something you want. To quote my sainted mother, how did America manage to help us win the war? You couldn’t even join the fight until Pearl Harbor.
“Pity you can’t meet my mother. She might have sorted you out. She died when I was fourteen. In her world, sleeping with your best friend’s husband was expected – like knowing how to ride.”
“Do you know how to ride?”
“No. When my mother got sick – but it’s a long story.”
They lay in bed in silence, holding onto each other.
“I’m an American,” said Andrew, “as you noted. I believe love is serious.” It sounded impolite after he’d said it.
“So why are you in bed with me? We don’t even know each other.”
“You’ve been awfully nice to me,” he said.
Venetia was silent too for a few minutes. She stroked the back of his neck as he buried his head in a pillow and recovered his poise. “Of course it’s serious,” she said finally. “The only way to survive is to make it a game.”
Just for a moment, it occurred to Andrew that Rosemary could be playing a game. She was English, after all. And Andrew was a sweet American. Not a confidence-inducing thought.
Janis returned with a tray of drinks. “This one’s actually got gin in it,” she said, handing one of the glasses to Joe.
And to Andrew: “Cathy says if everyone’s come down, it’s time to start cooking the lobsters and the steak.”
“I’m here,” said Rosemary, coming into the living room.
“But what about Cynthia?” said Andrew.
“She’ll be here when she gets here,” said Joe. “Time to execute some lobsters.”
“Let me help,” said George.
“I should make myself useful,” said Janis.
“Too many cooks,” said Andrew, not getting up.
“Yes, sit down,” said Shiva, who had made no move to stand up. “I want to know how you know Judy.”
“From working for the Governor,” she said, following Shiva’s suggestion and sitting on the sofa. “I’d been in his office for two years and a bit when one day he asked would I mind sharing my office with someone. ‘A young woman with a lot of talent,’ he said, ‘who could use an older sister.’ She showed up the following Monday. She slept on my couch for a couple of weeks until she found her own apartment.”
“Nice of you to take her in,” said Shiva.
“She’s easy to like,” said Janis. “Her move from Washington was sort of thrust upon her. Her Justice called her in one day and said, essentially, ‘Here’s what you’re doing next.’”
“The Governor knows the Justice?” said Shiva.
“The Governor knows everyone.”
“Nice to be looked out for,” said Andrew.
“She deserves it,” said Janis.
“And who looks out for you, Janis?” said Shiva.
“I was raised to be self-reliant,” said Janis, standing up. “Excuse me, if you will. I’ve remembered that I need to find Judy.”
That left Andrew sitting in silence with Shiva, sipping their gin-less gin and tonics. “Nice girl,” said the Indian finally. “It’s a shame George wants to be President.”
9
What happened next was shocking, but not entirely a surprise. Life could be like that, Andrew had found. The long rhythms of existence are always there. When Andrew saw Cynthia coming down the stairs ten minutes later, he knew there would be trouble.
She was dressed too well, for one thing. With jewellery. She was determined not to understand what sort of party it was. She stumbled on the second-last step. Andrew reckoned she was thinking about too many things at once. She had a distracted look to her face. Seeing Andrew, she covered it with her mask of innocence. “Have I made us late?” she asked.
“We had to start cooking without you, I’m afraid,” said Sally, coming in the door. “The fire wouldn’t wait.”
“Watch out,” said Joe.
They were carrying in a bucket of lobsters and a platter of steak. Andrew was holding the screen door open. Cynthia had contrived to block their path. The Governor took her by the shoulders and moved her out of the way without comment. “Is there more for me to bring in?” George said to Sally.
“I think Janis has the last of the lobsters, but if you’d check, that would be great. And make sure the fire is, you know, behaving itself.”
“The fire is fine,” said Joe, as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Andrew could see that Cynthia hadn’t liked being moved out of the way. He would almost have said she hadn’t liked being touched, even by a Governor, even by a political rock star, but his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, followed by Rosemary cursing and Judy telling her not to try to pick up the pieces. “Just back out carefully,” said the younger woman in a friendly voice. “You shouldn’t try to clean up broken glass barefoot, I think.”
“No great loss,” Sally called out, presumably to Andrew but for Rosemary’s benefit. “Three glasses, it looks like. We tried to put too much on the counter.”
Cynthia and Rosemary both retired to the living room, where Shiva and Andrew were sitting, but didn’t speak. “Have you made a mess, my darling?” he said to his wife.
“I was trying to make room for the last two platters,” she said.
“Perhaps you should put on some shoes,” he said.
“Good idea,” she said.
Andrew followed her into the kitchen. He wondered if anyone saw her go through the pantry to the maid’s room, rather than upstairs, to retrieve them. George brought in the last of the lobsters, for which Judy made room without further damage. “Everyone please fill up a plate and sit down,” said Sally, dishing out corn on the cob and sliced tomatoes. “Andrew, would you ask Shiva and Cynthia to come get some dinner?”
Four men and five women is tricky. If you want symmetry, you can put the hostess at the head of the table and go boy-girl-boy-girl down each side. In theory, the hostess is in charge of any dinner table. Andrew thought maybe he didn’t want to put Sally in that spot. Janis would look very good there, but he doubted she’d want the role. Part of her shtick was being invisible. Rosemary would look too good. Judy had too much on her mind. Princess Cynthia would probably like being head girl, but that would annoy Rosemary. Also, she hadn’t come downstairs yet when Andrew was contemplating seating arrangements.
You know how to do this, he’d said to himself, and extracting a pad and pencil from a drawer in the sideboard, scribbled a chart:
This put Andrew in the middle. He was a professional intermediary, after all. It gave the seats of honour to a Governor and a prince, in case anyone cared about protocol. Joe clearly didn’t. He’d like sitting next to Sally. Janis could help Judy if she lost her nerve. If Cynthia was a no-show, Sally could take her spot and the table would be symmetrical again. And if Cyn came to dinner but was in a bad mood, Andrew could pay lots of attention to her. And this is high finance? he’d said to himself with a chuckle.
In the end, though, the placement couldn’t have mattered. Andrew tried to engage Cynthia as soon as everyone sat down, but she paid no attention. What was Shiva going to eat, she wanted to know in a loud voice. The walk they’d gone on evidently hadn’t made them friends.
“Everything,” he said happily. Not being friends with a skinny celebrity was not something he worried about.
“But isn’t that against your religion?” said Cynthia.
“I’m a multi-cultural person,” he said. “I honour the customs of the place. I am in magical Nantucket – thanks to Andrew. I have visited a lighthouse – thanks to Joe. I have walked on the beach with a half-naked woman – thanks to your excellent self. And now I will eat beef and lobster – thanks to Cathy and Joe.”
This speech made everyone except Cynthia laugh. “So you’re a fake Hindu?” she said.
“Hinduism is a syncretic faith,” he said. “We have many gods and many customs.”
The Governor of Massachusetts interrupted: “I move that eating strange foods be viewed as tolerance rather than misbehaviour.”
“How about kissing strange women?” Judy blurted out and then looked at her lap.
“Uh…indeed,” said the Governor. He paused. “And in that spirit, I propose a toast to our host and hostess.” He reached for his glass, which was empty. Rosemary poured him some wine from one of the bottles Sally had put on the table. “Not too much, please,” he said.
“I’m not drinking at all,” said Cynthia. It seemed to Andrew that alcohol was exactly what Cynthia needed, but he didn’t want to start an argument.
“I will follow the Governor’s gracious suggestion,” said Shiva. Janis poured him half a glass.
“To new friends and old,” said the Governor, raising his glass and looking around the table.
“I’ll vote for him,” said Joe.
Again, everyone except Cynthia laughed. But suddenly everyone was talking at once, and it didn’t matter. “How do you open this thing?” said Shiva, pointing to his lobster.
“You use the cracker,” said Judy. “Let me show you.” She held her hand around his and applied pressure until the claw broke open. He liked that.
“You put the shells in the empty bowls,” said Sally.
“Where’s the melted butter?” said Janis.
“It must still be in the kitchen,” said Sally.
“I’ll get it,” said Janis.
Cynthia hadn’t engaged with her crustacean yet. She doesn’t do messy, Andrew said to himself. He looked over at Rosemary and saw that she was reading his mind.
“I forgot to buy bibs,” said Sally.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Rosemary.
“Just to remind everyone,” said Sally, “there’s one apiece with three left over.”
“After that you have to make do with steak,” said Joe.
“It is pretty impressive steak,” said the Governor, acknowledging Joe’s contribution. “I assume you eat steak,” he said to Cynthia, “coming from Texas.”
“If someone wants my lobster…” she said.
“That makes it one and a half each,” said Judy, who was getting enthusiastically messy.
“You have lobster expertise, I see,” said Shiva.
“Do you come from Nantucket?” said Cynthia.
“Boston,” said Judy. “North End. Grew up in sight of the Old North Church. As in Paul Revere and the midnight ride. Do you know that poem? Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Don’t you wish you had a grand name like that?”
“I know that bit of American history,” said Shiva. “And the Governor does have that sort of name, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Shiva’s full name takes five minutes to say,” said Rosemary, but you’re not allowed to say it all because some bits are sacred.”
“She’s making that up,” said Shiva, smiling at his wife. She tilted her head a bit. “Well, mostly making it up,” he said.
“I’ll bet Lady Rosemary is good at making things up,” said the Governor. She accepted the compliment by looking down as if demurely.
“The North End’s an Italian neighbourhood now,” said Judy, expertly extracting meat from her lobster’s skinny legs. “Good restaurants but no Longfellows.”
“What does your father do?” said Cynthia.
She probably thinks he’s a garbage collector, Andrew said to himself. She appeared to be looking for a fight.
“I don’t kn
ow,” said Judy. “He disappeared before I was born, according to my mother. Late mother, I should say.”
“So you’re illegitimate,” said Cynthia. She didn’t want a fight. She wanted a car crash. But Judy refused to oblige her by reacting. Andrew envied her confidence.
“Did she get to see you graduate from law school and become a Supreme Court clerk?” said Rosemary, pretending not to hear Cynthia.
“She did,” said Judy. “But only because I went to college when I was fifteen. I got a scholarship. She died right before I moved back to Boston. I came home for the funeral and when I got back to Washington I learned that I was going back to Boston. That’s why I had to sleep on Janis’s couch. I couldn’t face living where she died. I don’t believe in ghosts, except that maybe I do.”
“Call them ‘spirits,’” said Shiva.
“She must have been very proud,” said the Governor softly.
“Does it bother you, Judy, being a bastard?” said Cynthia in her innocent interviewer voice. She’s unhinged, Andrew said to himself. He wondered why Joe didn’t try to rein her in.
“Being illegitimate is not a person’s fault,” said the Governor. “Used to be, but society is kinder than it was even twenty-five years ago.”
“It wasn’t always a bad deal,” said Rosemary.
She was trying to take the spotlight off Judy, Andrew could see, same as George. Of course, whatever Cynthia’s problem was, it had nothing to do with Judy.
“I’m descended from a bastard myself,” said Rosemary, “one of a dozen or more with whom Charles the Second endowed his kingdom. My great, great, great, however many it is, grandmother. His Majesty married her off to the son of one of the nobles who had accompanied him to France.”
“So are you a Roman Catholic?” said Janis.
“Well, I probably should be, but I’m not. I was christened that way but I’ve missed confession too often to claim affiliation.”
“Can we assume you’ve had plenty to confess?” said Cynthia, but no one paid attention to her.
“My mother was a Roman Catholic,” said Judy. “She went to mass every morning before she went to work. She was a secretary.”
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