Larry's Party (38 page)

“Well,” Larry said, “we could put one wife at each end - that way they’d be as far from each other as possible.”

To his surprise she took this seriously. “Hmmm. Too obvious maybe. And not really correct. They’re the guests of honor, remember.”

“And you and I certainly don’t want to be at the ends, playing Mum and Dad. At least I don’t.”

“No, I chucked that idea right away. Too self-conscious and hierarchical. As though we were out to control the evening.”

“So what do we do?”

“I thought your sister and Ian could take the ends. Keep it in the family kind-of-thing. As a matter of fact, I hope you don’t mind, Larry, but I made this little sketch while I was at work today, a sort

of seating plan.“ She drew a folded sheet of paper from her bag and laid it out flat on the table. ”Now you see where I’ve got Midge and Ian. I’m afraid I couldn’t work out the boy—girl thing perfectly but—”

“That’s okay.”

“And here you are in the middle of the side between Samuel and Marcia McCord. I’m only guessing, but I don’t see them as having too much in common from what you’ve told me about Sam. His being new in this country? His English? And so forth. Now, Dorrie’s right here next to Midge - you did say they liked each other.”

“They didn’t used to, but now they’ve really—”

“And Garth McCord’s across from you, with Beth on his left. I figured they’d both have all that spiritual stuff in common.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

“Am I being too hostessy? Too managerial? Tell me if I am.”

“But wait a minute - where are you sitting, Char?” He didn’t often call her Char. “You’re not here on the plan.”

“Me? I’m not? Oh my God.”

“You’ve only got eight places. There’re nine of us.”

“I don’t believe it. That I did this.”

“Why don’t you sit here?” Larry said, pointing. “Between me and Sam.”

“Or maybe between Garth and Dorrie.”

“You choose.”

“What do you think it means?” Charlotte said. Her voice had become a wail. “Subconsciously, I mean. Absenting myself from the table. Pretending I’m not here.”

“The doorbell!”

“You get it, won’t you? It’s probably Sam Alvero. I’ll go and turn down the lamb.”

“Well, this is it.”

“Yes. This is it.”

“In a few hours it’ll be over. We’ll be on the other side. Just us.”

“Right.” She smiled up at him.

“One kiss. For luck.”

“For luck. For lucky us.”

Larry went toward the door then, taking a deep breath, and releasing it into a stream of pulsing desire: let this evening be soft and open, let us be kind, give us everything we want.

Beth was beautiful. He’d forgotten just how beautiful. The cold spring night had given her a touch of color, and her green velvet coat with its silver buttons swung out dramatically when she came through the apartment doorway. “Larry,” she said, and took his face between her two cold hands.

Oh, the ashy incense of old love!

“You’re the first to arrive,” he said absurdly, and the next minute felt her arms around his neck and her lips covering his, pressing with that remembered firmness, but even firmer tonight because of the cold. He felt the rocking of his own heartbeat. This was something he hadn’t thought of in advance: greetings, embraces, what would be permitted.

Beth sprang away from him then, smiling. “But, Larry,” she sang out socially, her voice crystalline, “this is so wonderfully enterprising of you. A dinner party!”

“I’ve had some help,” he said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen where the clanking of spoons and pots could be heard, and then thought to add, “A friend of mine.”

How grainy and false that word felt on his tongue: friend.

She unbuttoned her coat slowly, then threw it open, it seemed to Larry, with a flourish. Even in the dim light of the hallway he could see that she was exuberantly, bloomingly pregnant. Eight months, nine months? - but no, pregnant women weren’t allowed to fly toward the end, were they? “Seven months,” she said, reading his mind and turning sideways so Larry could admire her in full profile. “I told you I had wonderful news.”

He opened his mouth. What was this? Who? When? But the doorbell went again, followed immediately by a crash from the kitchen.

Just five minutes into his party and he was already lost.

 

“Samuel Alvero, this is Beth Prior. Sam’s been working with me on a project here in Toronto, he’s a horticulturist, recently arrived from Spain. Seville, isn’t it, Sam? Beth here has just come from London. She was starting to tell me that she’s -”

“I am enchanted to meet you.”

“A pleasure.”

“Oh, how do you do! I’m Charlotte Angus. Sorry, I was busy in the kitchen when you — you must be Beth. Well, well! It’s so good to see you, so wonderful you could come, I mean. And you’re Samuel. Larry’s been telling me about you, what a marvel you’ve been these last busy weeks, working day and night getting ready for the opening. Is that the doorbell again, Larry? I wonder if you could get that, there’s something I’ve got to check on in the kitchen.”

 

“Let me introduce Garth and Marcia McCord. You already know Sam, Garth. You met on the site - only last week, wasn’t it? And this is Beth Prior, just off the plane from England. I should explain before the others get here that Beth and I were once, well this was years ago, but at one time oh, and this is Charlotte Angus. Charlotte, I think you’ve met Garth, but not Marcia. Marcia’s from New York originally, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Virginia. Richmoud, Virginia.”

“Oh, that’s right. Virginia.”

“But I did actually live in New York.”

“I see.”

“For a little over a year. Eighteen months, as a matter of fact, or maybe it was seventeen. That’s probably why you thought—”

“Can I take some drink orders?”

“I love New York, but these days I love it tragically.”

“Love it how?”

“I’ll give you a hand with those drinks.”

“I think I can manage, Charlotte. Why don’t you -”

“There it goes again, the doorbell. That must be -”

“I’ll get it.”

 

“Dorrie.”

“Hello, Larry.”

“No trouble finding the address?”

“I took a cab.”

“Come in, come in, let me take your coat. A cold night for April.”

“A little windy.”

“And yesterday it was absolutely -”

“It’s wonderful to see you. But—”

“But?”

“This feels so strange, somehow.”

“Being here?”

“Yes. Being here. I don’t know why.”

“You’re looking - lovely.” It was true. She looked nervy, expectant, clear-eyed.

“So are you.”

“Older anyway.”

“Lucy Warkenten sends her love.”

“Lucy. How does she like being a city councillor?”

“She’s never been happier. She told me to tell you so.”

“I’ll phone her tomorrow.”

“It sounds like you’re having quite a party.”

“Just a few actually. Nine altogether. But before we go in, there is something I should maybe tell you, Dorrie. I should have mentioned it in my note.”

“Yes?”

“Beth’s here. Visiting from England.”

“Beth. Oh.”

“It was sort of a coincidence, you both being here at the same time.”

“Oh.”

“I hope this isn’t going to be awkward for you, Dorrie. It just seemed like a chance to get together -”

“Oh no. Not awkward at all. Not a bit, Larry. Heavens no.”

 

“This is Dorrie Shaw-Weller. Let me introduce you around. Garth and Marcia.”

“How do you do.”

“Love your earrings. I once had a pair almost exactly like them except in silver. And maybe just a little bit smaller. I absolutely cannot wear large earrings, they swamp me. My face.”

“Thank you.”

“And this is Samuel Alvero who’s been working with me on a maze project.”

“Ah, so you are a Weller also? Part of the family. This is enchanting. I hadn’t expected. To be at a family party.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Samuel.”

“And please meet a good friend of mine, Charlotte Angus.”

“How do you do, Charlotte.”

“We’re so pleased you’re here in Toronto.”

“And this is Beth Prior.”

“Well, well. So you’re Dorrie.”

“So you’re Beth.”

“This is - I don’t know what to say - it’s incredible.”

“It is, isn’t it? That we’re meeting each other at last.”

“Do you mind, Dorrie, if I give you a big hug.”

“I’d love it, but ... but - ”

“He’s got his own swimming pool in there. It’s perfectly safe.”

 

“Now that almost everyone’s here, maybe I could suggest champagne.”

“Champagne!”

“Tonight, well, tonight’s a sort of special occasion.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Midge and Ian, Larry?”

“They can always join in when they get here.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, Larry. Champagne and fetuses don’t mix, and of course I never was one for—”

“I’d be happy to accept a glass of champagne.”

“And believe me, Garth does love his champagne. Once we went to the most amazing party, it was on a boat anchored off Cape Cod, and they had the darlingest little man in these bright red boots who hopped around pouring — ”

“Yes, please, Larry. Hmmmm, beautiful.”

“Just look at that color.”

“Smooth as silk.”

“Well, naturally we all got high as kites and a woman, you’d recognize her name if I told you, she’s everywhere these days, she said to Garth that he had the sweetest earlobes she’d ever seen on a man, and Garth, red as a radish, said -”

“I have not drink champagne since I said goodbye to my good friends four months ago. And I see this is made in Canada. Astonishing.”

“You’ll find it a little fruitier than—”

“Was that the doorbell, Larry? Why don’t you let me get it this time?”

“Midge, Ian! You’re just in time.”

“We let ourselves in.”

“Larry was about to propose a toast.”

“You look stunning, Charlotte.”

“You too.”

“Take a glass. And one for you, Ian.”

“This isn’t a real toast. I only want to offer a warm welcome to you all. And to wish you health and happiness.”

“And here’s to the opening of the McCord maze.”

“Yes, let’s not forget that.”

“The what?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Here’s to us.”

“Cheers.”

“Happy days.”

“Onward!”

“And now, let me refill your glasses before we sit down at the table.”

 

“This is the most glorious soup. Do I detect ginger?”

“And a hint of lime too, that’s my guess.”

“Who do we congratulate? Who’s the maker of the soup?”

“Speaking of limes, Garth promised me a lime soufflé for my birthday. You haven’t lived till you’ve had the Four Season’s version of lime souffié. Well, we made a reservation but the most awful thing happened just as we were sitting down -”

“Actually Larry made the soup.”

“Larry
^!
”

“Now, why should you sound so surprised?”

“Ah, we’ve wounded his pride.”

“I just can’t imagine Larry making soup. I do remember he was a pro with the can opener, but -”

“And if I recall it was Campbell’s tomato soup.”

“Exactly. That was his specialty. I’d almost forgotten.”

“Later, of course, he graduated to Campbell’s tomato soup with

parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. Moving up on the culinary scale.”

“Now why are you women giving Larry such a hard time tonight?”

“I was going to explain that our guests tonight, Dorrie and Beth -”

“One thing I absolutely cannot eat is clams. My allergist says it could be deadly. Convulsions, a rapid lowering of blood pressure, and I already have the lowest blood pressure this side of the moon. He says that — ”

“Times have changed. Men aren’t ashamed to say they make soup nowadays. Ian makes the most delicious cream of broccoli -”

“It’s a good way to use up the stalks, actually.”

“Shame on you, Ian. You sound positively pious.”

“Good God, I do, don’t I?”

“Eco-smug.”

“Greener than thou.”

“Even in Spain these things are changing. Spaniards love their soup, and most men, younger men that is, know how to chop up a little cabbage and make it to boil.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a big deal when you put it that way, is it?”

“It’s just that we’re still struck with incredulity that a man can actually pick up a paring knife.”