Of course I know that if there is a God—or a life force, or fate, or any governing power else that human creatures perceive in hope or hope to perceive—he or she is not concerned with my personal history. But sometimes, when the ironies pile up, it seems as if he, or she, or it, must be meddling. Oedipus gouges out his eyes; Cleopatra takes an asp to her breast: I should have known, I said to myself. You should have known.
There I was, my mind and spirit bent to the next evening’s possibilities, barely attending to the presentation of Mr. Theo’s dinner. There they were, the hosts awaiting, the dinner guests arriving. There we all were.
Miss Sarah, slim as a dancer in a red dress, watched at the window. “They’re here, Theo.” Darkly sartorial, he left to greet them by an open door. I set down linen cocktail napkins and the ice bucket. “If they use a limo in the city, it’s them. Yes,” Miss Sarah said, “with Allie in the middle like a sacrificial lamb. And Mummy’s with them, and Dad.” She went to stand beside her brother. “They’re so tan.”
Returning to the kitchen to prepare the soup bowls, I was overtaken by a forceful female voice. “My daughter says she’s never seen your house, Theo. I approve of that. There’s entirely too much of this seeing one another’s houses before marriage. Marriage should hold some surprises.”
It was the voice of a woman for whom marriage, and life, held few surprises, and that was the way she liked it. I felt a qualm of sympathy for Mr. Theo.
Also, I admit it, a frisson of It serves him right. I was smirking over the madrilene, which I dished into chilled bowls, topped with a sprinkling of herbs and a lemon slice, then carried out to the table. The dinner party was disporting itself in the living room, not my responsibility; I poured iced water into goblets, after which I refilled the silver pitcher with ice and water and set it on the sideboard. A final glance around, to assure myself that everything was as it should be—the floral arrangements low enough so that they didn’t interfere with seated conversation, the bottles of wine ready, three rosettes of butter on each butter plate—and I went out into the living room, to announce dinner.
Entering the living room, plumped out with the success of both of my roles…It was the ring I saw first, emeralds flanking the marquise diamond, heavy on the little hand, and by the time I realized I recognized the hand, and the woman, I had already announced dinner. I didn’t look at her, I didn’t have to. I felt the shock with which she heard my voice. It seemed to me that the air between us congealed. It seemed to me that her head must have snapped up, snapped around.
Some men might have gotten angry, some might have wept, some might have gouged out their eyes, and some—like me—would have stood in the kitchen, rictus sardonicus. You should have known, I said to myself. Then I canceled thought.
When the buzzer summoned me, I entered the dining room to clear the soup bowls. Seven people were ranged about the table: Alexis sat at the far end, opposite Mr. Theo, the two men sat side by side so that Mr. Mondleigh could sit at Alexis’s right, and the three women sat across from them, so that Mrs. Rawling could sit at Mr. Theo’s right. Miss Sarah was tucked into the middle, like a child. I latched the swinging door open, to move more unnoticeably. Conversation went on; my presence made no difference to the assembly.
At formal meals I carried platters and bowls of food around, bending down confidentially at the left shoulder to enable each guest to serve himself. Or herself. Host and guests talked on, as I cleared the soup course, brought warmed plates out and set one at each place, offered food around, and then poured wine into each glass. On such occasions, I was a long time in the dining room.
“It took them a while, Martin,” Mr. Mondleigh remarked, “but they did us right, in the end.”
“Congratulations, you two,” Mr. Rawling seconded, looking from one end of the table to the other. The two fathers, side by side, could have been clones of one another, for all the surface differences. Two well-satisfied men.
“We wish you all the best.” Mr. Mondleigh raised his glass, first to his son, then to his son’s fiancée. “Don’t we, Elaine?”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Mondleigh raised her own glass obediently. “Although…”
Mrs. Rawling leapt into the caesura. “Not too quickly with some of that, such as children.” She had her daughter’s direct mind, as well as nose and deep eyes. Both she and her husband had unusually unlined faces; Alexis would wear well, I thought. She would probably keep, as her parents had, that wonderful porcelain skin well into her later years.
Mr. Rawling cleared his throat, importantly. “Allie will maintain her holdings in her own name, of course. You might not guess it, Theo, but my little girl has a good business head on those pretty shoulders.”
The pretty shoulders were not visible, underneath a white dress bordered at the high collar and long sleeves with pink and blue embroidered flowers, as if she were some eighteen-year-old debutante. With her head lowered, her hair covered her cheeks as I put a dinner plate in front of her. I was pretty sure she didn’t look at me to see that I wasn’t looking at her. Her hands rested in her lap, still.
“Of course, Martin, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My firm will draw up the nuptial agreement. Not that we expect these two to need it.”
“What about our wills?” Mr. Theo asked. His voice sounded sincere but his nostrils were flaring slightly. “You haven’t forgotten about wills, have you, Dad?”
“Don’t tease your father, Theo,” Mrs. Mondleigh counseled.
Mrs. Rawling dismissed all this. “Tonight, of all nights, is not the time to discuss property. You two can settle that on your next round of golf.” She helped herself to a serving of veal, spooning sauce over it generously. “Allie isn’t thinking about that at all, are you dear? Of course you aren’t.”
I didn’t dare to think what Alexis might be thinking.
“Allie has a wedding to think about,” Mrs. Rawling announced.
I set the meat platter on a sideboard and went into the kitchen for a bowl of rice, which I bore out into the dining room.
Mrs. Rawling still held the floor. “Only half a dozen attendants apiece, maybe ten, a smallish wedding, as intimate as possible. Ask Sarah,” she instructed her daughter.
“I hope you’ll be a bridesmaid, Sarah,” Alexis asked.
“Sure,” Miss Sarah said. “Thanks. I’d love to.”
Mr. Theo was gazing off over his fiancée’s head, his thoughts elsewhere.
“Yellow for the church,” Mrs. Rawling went on, “we thought, with lime green for emphasis color. Then we’ll do the clubhouse in lime green, with yellow for emphasis. A daffodil yellow, rather pale.”
Nobody had anything to say. I offered rice. Nobody could find anything to say, so Miss Sarah offered, “That sounds nice.”
“There should be no trouble putting up the out-of-town guests. We both have room, and there’s also your parents’ house, David—it’s empty, isn’t it?—where we thought the ushers might stay, and their families, if any are married. Are any of your ushers married, Theo? Will there be any children?”
Mr. Theo brought himself back to attention. Before he could answer, his father did. “The old house won’t be available.”
“Oh?” queried Mrs. Rawling. She was a little offended, or rather, she was prepared to be a little offended.
“Oh, hell. I wasn’t going to tell you yet, Theo, but I guess this is as good a time as any. We’re giving you your grandfather’s house as a wedding present.”
“That’s handsome,” Mr. Rawling said, “I must say.” The two men faced each other, satisfaction washing between them like water trapped in a tub. I offered asparagus.
“What do you think of that, Allie?” her mother demanded. “What do you say?”
“We’re giving Allie title to the house on Lake George,” Mr. Rawling announced.
Mr. Theo wanted to laugh. This gave his voice a choked quality, as if he were deeply moved. “That’s very generous, Mr. Rawling.”
“Call me Martin, son.”
“Have some asparagus, Miss Sarah,” I murmured. Her hands clutched at her napkin, and her mouth pulled down at the edges. I thought I knew how she felt, just about.
“You’ll want a place to get away to. To be by yourselves,” Mrs. Rawling explained.
Miss Sarah smiled bravely at me.
“Allie’s always loved the lake,” Mr. Rawling explained. “From when she was just a little girl. Haven’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Alexis said.
“It’s awfully…” Mrs. Mondleigh began.
“Generous,” Mrs. Rawling finished the thought. “Considering the price of land on Lake George. But she’s our only child, after all. When you’ve only the one child, you want to give her everything.”
“Nothing’s too much for our Allie,” Mr. Rawling echoed.
“But”—Mrs. Rawling cut short the display of parental fondness—“there’s so much to decide, and they’re only giving me six weeks. You’ll be doing the same yourself, before long, Sarah. This will be good practice for you.”
I offered the plate of asparagus to Mr. Theo.
“I’m surprised you didn’t worry, Elaine, with Sarah at school abroad,” Mrs. Rawling said.
“Worry about what?”
“So far away, and out of touch, didn’t you worry that she’d meet someone?”
“That was the point,” Mr. Theo said. “Wasn’t it, Dad? To broaden her horizons.”
“What if she’d wished to marry over there?” Mrs. Rawling asked.
Mr. Mondleigh answered. “With Sarah we’re more afraid she’ll never settle down at all.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, David,” Mr. Rawling assured him. “Sarah will catch someone’s eye, no fear for that. You’ll meet the right man. Girls do,” he promised her. “Especially pretty girls.”
“But how could my parents be sure he wouldn’t be Swiss, this right man?” Miss Sarah asked. “Or Hungarian?”
“You’re making fun of us,” Mrs. Mondleigh observed.
“He could have been, of course,” Mrs. Rawling said. “It’s possible, of course. Just not likely. Luckily for my peace of mind, Allie has never had much desire to travel.”
“Oh no!” Mr. Theo clapped his hand against his forehead. I filled the glasses with wine. “What about the honeymoon?”
Mrs. Rawling was not to be put off. “You know what I meant, not travel for travel’s sake.”
“Is that true, Allie?” Mrs. Mondleigh asked. “I thought every young person wanted to…”
I returned the wine bottle to the sideboard.
“See the world,” Mr. Mondleigh finished the thought for his wife. I took a last look around the table.
“Not Allie,” Mr. Rawling said. “Not our Allie. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
They lifted their forks, to begin the meal.
“I think it must be,” Alexis said.
I left, unhooking the swinging door so that it could close behind me. In the living room I put the bar table away and cleared the glasses. I rinsed those glasses and the soup bowls and loaded them into the dishwasher. I started scouring pans.
There must be a moment when you see that your plane has been hit. You’ve been dodging about through enemy fire and the engine bursts into flame, or a wing falls off. There must be a moment of perception—I am about to go down, I’ve had it, that’s it for me, I’m sunk, tutto è finito—a moment as you spiral down to meet the ground that rises, rushing, at you. Then after the perception but preceding the event, a moment for understanding. Knowledge. That whole evening seemed to me such a moment, dragging out interminably. I only awaited the ground.
The buzzer summoned me, and I dried my hands, took off my apron, latched the swinging door. I cleared the dinner dishes and brought in the dessert—each plate holding three little puff pastries, each pastry filled with crème pâtissière and napped with a thin sauce of bitter chocolate.
“I’d like to be based out at the Farm,” Mr. Theo was saying. “I haven’t made up my mind what to do with this house. I haven’t held it long enough to make much of a profit on the investment.”
“Rent it to me,” Miss Sarah offered. “I’ll rent it, if you’ll leave me Gregor.”
He ignored her. “Some days I’ll probably have to stay in town. I put in some long hours some days, and there are business dinners.”
“I keep hearing your name, Theo,” Mr. Rawling said. “You’re building yourself something of a reputation.”
Mr. Mondleigh was pleased. “Theo doesn’t just sit back and let the world carry him. Neither of my sons does.”
“And your daughters?” Miss Sarah asked.
Ripe with wine and well-being, he took no offense. “You’re thinking of Babbsy,” he deduced. “Your sister’s not a good example of anything, but women, girls, daughters—their role in society is different from men’s role. To have children. Be protected. Babbsy simply has no judgment about her men.”
“Women make a home,” Mr. Rawling added. “Preserve culture, you know, the arts. You haven’t been turned into a radical over there, have you, Sarah? You’re entirely too pretty for that.”
Sarah bridled, and Alexis looked uncomfortable, and even Mrs. Mondleigh was gazing thoughtfully at the men.
“Sarah?” her father asked. “You aren’t thinking of going to work, are you? What qualifications do you have? You don’t have any qualifications, do you?”
Mrs. Rawling answered for her. “We’ll need Sarah full-time, until we get this wedding off our hands. Your mother will need your help, Sarah, and somebody will have to oversee the redecoration of the old house.”
“Doesn’t Allie want to do that?” Sarah asked.
“I’ll need Allie to help me. You have no idea, either of you girls, what a job it is to put on a wedding. And at such short notice. Allie and I will have our hands full, and I’m sure you have lovely taste. You two”—she switched her attention—“will have to decide immediately on silver and china, glassware. I should know those by the first of the week, so Allie can be registered.”
I unlatched the door and let it swing closed behind me. There was the coffee tray to set up and take out to the living room; there were more pots to be scrubbed clean and the dinner dishes. If I felt hungry later, I’d eat then.
The sound of muffled conversation faded when the party rose from the table. The kitchen door swung open and I turned off the running water, wiped my hands on my apron.
Mrs. Rawling was speaking to Alexis as they entered. “You begin as you mean to go on,” she advised. “Ah—?” She’d forgotten my name. “My daughter would like a word.”
“Gregor,” Alexis supplied. Her eyes were like a firing squad.
“That’s right, Gregor.” Mrs. Rawling left us together.
Alexis stood where she had been set, like a dumpling dropped on the kitchen floor. I gave her a few seconds, then carried a handful of silverware to put it into the dishwasher. She would cry shame, I knew, and maybe shed a tear for her deceived self. I wasn’t going to help her. “Yes, miss?”
“It was an excellent dinner,” Alexis said.
So I had never happened. “Thank you, miss.” I could pretend as well as the next man. Or woman.
She seemed to have nothing more to say, so I went back to work.
“Theo says,” she began, and I turned off the water, turned around again. “Theo says you are a treasure.”
“He exaggerates, miss,” I said. This time I stood and waited, until she had finished whatever piece she planned to speak. I owed her the chance; I knew that.
“Will you be staying on with Theo? After?” she asked.
“Are you giving me my notice?”
“I can’t do that, you work for Theo. You know that, Gregor.” I had made her impatient. “But—” And she looked at me, really looked at me. “What were you thinking of? How could you do that to me?” There was no self-pity in her voice, only curiosity and an angry protest.
“I didn’t know who you were, miss.”
“You didn’t know exactly, but you knew.”
She was right. I couldn’t deny it.
“I don’t see how you could stay on. With us. After. And it makes me angry, Gregor. I guess I really will marry Theo now. I guess I have to. I guess I’d really better.” She laughed. “I thought—it’s incredible—I thought I could always run away to my mysterious admirer, if my parents were wrong about Theo asking me, if it wasn’t going to work out. I thought, it wasn’t as if there was only Theo to marry. And I didn’t know that was what I was thinking. That’s frightening, isn’t it? Did you know I was thinking that?”
“Not precisely that,” I told her.
“I was thinking I had a choice, but—What a rotten thing to do to Theo, Gregor. How could you do that to him?”
That, at least, I hadn’t done, at least not intentionally.
“I guess I gave you a lot of help, didn’t I? Oh, I am such a fool. I should have known, or suspected at least. And I did, sort of—but not this. But I don’t understand how you could do it. No, never mind. I know, I do know, and I even understand why. I think I must have known all along, or at least suspected. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you, not really. I blame myself. I was using you just about the same way you were using me, wasn’t I.”
It was not a question. It was just the truth. She waited, then, for whatever I might want to say.
“You’re not a fool, Alexis,” I promised her.
She thought that over, watching my face. “Yes I am,” she finally said. “I shouldn’t be let out without a keeper. I’m lucky Theo thinks it would be smart to marry me, or otherwise—”
She didn’t need to finish that sentence.