People Like Us (22 page)

“Good luck, Justine,” said Hubie.

“Oh, Hubie,” said Justine, leaning down to kiss her shorter brother on the cheek. She saw the makeup that covered the lesion on his chin. “What is that?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” answered Hubie. “An astringent in my aftershave lotion caused an irritation.”

Their eyes met, in a moment of silent understanding, like when they were children long ago.

“Come along, Hubie,” said Lil.

When the strains of
Lohengrin
were finally heard, to everyone’s relief, Justine Altemus, billowing in cream-colored satin and rose-point lace, carrying cream-colored roses, fully opened, nearly ran up the aisle to her groom, restrained only by the careful walk of her slightly inebriated father. Preceded by ten little girls dressed as shepherdesses carrying crooks, Justine’s eyes searched longingly ahead for the husband who was waiting for her. Not a person present, except possibly her mother, did not think that the match, although unusual, was not romantic.

The Bradleys’ cook jumped out the window, “splash, splash, all over the corner of Park Avenue and Sixty-second Street,” as Ezzie Fenwick was to report it later, just as the wedding party was entering the Colony Club
for the reception, but, inside, it was a thing not to be mentioned, as no one wanted to east a pall on the happy occasion of Justine Altemus’s marriage to Bernard Slatkin. The Bradleys, whose cook had just jumped, stayed, for propriety’s sake, only long enough to go through the line and greet the handsome couple.

“So marvelous, Lil. All the old families,” said Mame Bradley. “None of those New People.” Just then Elias and Ruby Renthal came into her line of vision. “Except, of course, the Renthals.”

Lil Altemus mouthed but did not speak the word
business
, so there could be no misunderstanding as to the reason for the presence of the Elias Renthals at her daughter’s wedding.

Justine, standing in the receiving line between Bernie and her mother, shielded her mouth with her bouquet and whispered into Lil Altemus’s ear, “Mother,
please
, speak to Mrs. Slatkin. She’s just standing there with no one to talk to.”

“Come stand here by me, Hester,” said Lil. “Have you met my great friend, Cora Mandell?”

“Hellohowareyou?” said Cora to Hester.

“Isn’t this all lovely?” replied Hester, trying to make conversation with the septuagenarian decorator, whose work she read about in house magazines.

“So pretty, yes. I’m looking everywhere for Ezzie,” said Cora, turning to Lil. “He’s in such a snit about his shirtmaker. Really too funny.”

“He’s over there talking to Madge Tree’s son,” replied Lil.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Slatkin. I must see this friend of mine,” said Cora Mandell, hurrying off. Hester, aware but unfazed, knew that she was the aunt of the handsomest young man in the room.

“Now, Hester,” said Lil, “who don’t you know?”

“Hello, Uncle Ormonde,” said Matilda Clarke. Old Ormonde Van Degan, afflicted now with sporadic senility and an unreliable memory, smiled blankly at Matilda
without recognizing her. Dodo Fitz Alyn opened her handbag, took out a handkerchief, and wiped the saliva off his chin.

“What is he becoming, Dodo? Blind or deaf?” asked Matilda. “I mean, should I talk louder or move closer?”

“It’s Matilda Clarke, Ormonde,” said Dodo in a loud voice directly into Ormonde’s ear. “Sweetzer’s widow, Matilda.”

“Good God, he knows that, Dodo,” said Matilda.

“I miss Sweetzer,” said Ormonde Van Degan, finally placing Matilda. His voice was as frail as his body was fragile. “He was a keen sportsman. Marvelous fisherman. Good shot, too. I miss Sweetzer.”

“Thank you, Uncle Ormonde,” said Matilda, rushing on.

“That was your great-aunt Grace Gardiner,” said Laurance Van Degan, looking at a white marble bust on a stand in the entrance to the ballroom. “The New York Gardiners used the
i
in their name, but the Boston Gardners spelled it without the
i
. Your great-aunt Grace was one of the founders of this club, and, from all reports, was a very interesting woman.”

But Hubie Altemus didn’t want to hear what made old great-aunt Grace Gardiner, spelled with an
i
, a very interesting woman. For years he had heard his uncle expound on the various branches of the family, but it was a topic that never interested Hubie in the least. What interested Hubie was Juanito Perez. “Excuse me, Uncle Laurance, I have to make a call.”

In the men’s room, standing at the urinal, was Hubie’s cousin, young Laurance Van Degan, who was everything in the family that Hubie was not. As Hubie approached the second urinal, Laurance, spotting his first cousin, turned his body away in a protective gesture.

“If you think I have any curiosity about your pecker, old man, give it another thought,” said Hubie.

“You’re disgusting, Hubie,” said young Laurance
Van Degan, his face acquiring the haughty Van Degan expression that Juanito could mimic so well.

Hubie, seeing it, laughed. “Asparagus for lunch, huh?” he asked.

“Have you become psychic in addition to your other worldly successes?” asked Laurance.

“No. Your piss stinks,” said Hubie.

“You’re disgusting, Hubie.”

“You put those three inches of yours away so fast, Laurance, you forgot to shake it off, and now you’ve got a big wet urine stain all over your grays.”

Laurance, red-faced, headed for the door.

“You better hurry back to Laura, Laurance. It must be time to breastfeed the baby again.”

“I can remember the Depression only too well,” said Cora Mandell. “We had to sell half the land in Bar Harbor. I couldn’t go to school in Switzerland, and Uncle Joe Leyland had to pay for my debut dress.”

“It’s a terrible thing to have a great name and not enough money,” said Ezzie Fenwick. Then he turned to Dodo Fitz Alyn and asked, “Don’t you think so?”

Dodo, poor always, blushed.

“A perfect world for me would be where everyone I know and cared for had about forty million dollars,” said Ezzie. “With forty million you can do everything you want to do and go everywhere you want to go, but you’re not up there with Rochelle Prud’homme and Elias Renthal, thank the good lord. How do you suppose the Renthals got here? They made a big fuss about sitting on the bride’s side, did you notice?”

“Mrs. Renthal fired me, then begged me to come back,” said Cora, looking over at Elias and Ruby.

Ezzie Fenwick often used the word
frightfully
in conversation. “Frightfully funny,” he’d say about an amusing story. “Frightfully nice,” he’d say about some people. “Frightfully grand,” about others. Or, “frightfully common.” He said frightfully common more often than he said frightfully funny or frightfully nice or frightfully grand.

“Frightfully common,” said Ezzie Fenwick.

“Who?” asked Cora Mandell.

“Mrs. Renthal, that’s who. Look at the size of the ring on her finger. If that rock is fake, it’s silly, and if it’s real, it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s real, all right,” said Cora. “I can assure you of that.”

“Bernie and Justine are dancing, Cora. Do you want to come and look?” asked Tucky Bainbridge.

“I’m perfectly content to sit right here and listen to Ezzie criticize everyone’s clothes,” said Cora.

“Talk to me, Elias. We can’t stand here like we don’t know anyone,” said Ruby.

“Why do mice have such small balls?” asked Elias.

“So-few-of-them-dance-well. You already told me that one, Elias.”

“I’m just trying to make it look like we’re having a conversation, Ruby. Don’t bite my head off because you already heard the fucking joke.”

“My God, Elias, here comes Loelia Manchester to speak to us. Don’t tell her any of your jokes, and don’t say
fuck
.”

“I get along with Loelia Manchester just fine, Ruby,” replied Elias.

Loelia, approaching them, was struck anew by the change in the appearance of Elias Renthal, a change far more profound than could be brought about by expensive tailoring and barbering. What she saw in the florid face that she had once considered vulgar was the unmistakable look of power, and she was drawn to it.

Whatever reservations most of the guests of Lil Altemus and the Van Degan family might have about people like Elias Renthal and his third wife, there was the beginning of a noticeable change in the whispered information about them whenever someone asked, “Who in the world is that?” or “How do you suppose they got here?” Elias Renthal, it was now said, was a wizard in business, and his comments about “interesting situations”
in the stock market, with which he was selectively generous, were to be acted upon by all means if one was so favored. Indeed, it was said that Laurance Van Degan himself, that most conservative of bankers and investors, had made a killing on a stock tip from Elias Renthal. Then, of course, there was the much discussed Renthal apartment, as yet unseen, but tales of its splendors were constantly circulated. “The furniture, my dear, is priceless,” said no less an authority than Jamesey Crocus. Dolly De Longpre had spread the word in her column that Elias Renthal had also purchased Merry Hill, the magnificent estate and horse-breeding farm that, years ago, had belonged to a family called Grenville, and already dozens of masons and carpenters were at work to enlarge and refront the mansion from Tudor to Georgian as a fitting residence for his beloved Ruby. There was also, one heard, a house in the tropics, and apartments in London and Paris, where Elias’s business interests took him frequently, always on his own plane with its own computers and telephones and other equipment so that his work day need never be interrupted. Certainly there was money, seemingly limitless money, and no disinclination on the part of either Mr. or Mrs. Renthal to spend it. Mrs. Renthal wore the largest gems in New York and traveled to and from her hairdresser and to and from her other appointments in a pale blue limousine of foreign make that was the only one of its kind in New York. Her wedding gift to Justine Altemus and Bernie Slatkin was of such extravagance that Lil Altemus insisted it be returned, and only the intervention of Laurance, her brother, who suggested that it would be “unseemly” to return the gift, a gold tea service that had once belonged to the Empress Josephine, prevented Lil from carrying out her threat.

“Hello, Elias,” said Loelia, and Ruby was thrilled with the proximity of her, as well as the vocal tones that announced her utter perfection of birth and breeding. Loelia Manchester’s attire was simplicity itself, as Dolly
De Longpre said the next day in her column, but she was by far the best-dressed woman in the room.

“Loelia, this is Ruby,” said Elias.

“Your husband was so charming to me, Ruby, when you were away. I’ve looked forward to meeting you.”

“Same here,” said Ruby. “Love your outfit.”

“Love your ring,” said Loelia, and the two ladies laughed.

“We were wondering, Mickie and I, if you and Elias would dine with us on Monday and go on to the opera.”

“Monday?” asked Ruby. She looked at Elias. Monday was the night of the birthday of Elias’s daughter by his first marriage. Their eyes met. He nodded that it would be all right.

“We’d be delighted, Loelia,” said Ruby in her smartest voice.

“Jaime’s coming,” said Loelia.

“Hymie?” answered Ruby.

“You’ll adore Jaime.”

“Hymie who?”

“The Honduran ambassador.”

“Have some champagne, Gus,” said Lil Altemus. “There’s going to be toasts.”

“I have my old faithful here,” said Gus, clutching a glass of fizzy water. Gus always held his water glass as if it were a cocktail.

“Oh, I always forget,” said Lil. “One glass can’t hurt, surely?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Do me a favor, will you, Gus?” asked Lil. “Will you talk to those Renthals. They don’t know anyone here, and Laurance is determined that they have a good time, God knows why.”

“Loelia Manchester is dancing with Elias Renthal,” said Gus.

“Loelia? Really? That’s a new one. Be a love and go dance with what’s-her-name, his wife,” said Lil.

“Ruby,” said Gus.

“Yes, of course, Ruby,” said Lil, who had known her name was Ruby all along.

Ruby was thrilled to dance with Gus. Her conversation with Loelia Manchester had made her feel for the first time that she was going to be able to make it in New York.

“I’m just an old fox-trotter,” said Gus. “I’m not up on all the new steps.”

“You and Elias,” said Ruby.

“You’re looking great, Ruby. I read about you in the papers all the time.”

Ruby laughed. “How’s everything with you?” she asked.

“Okay.”

“You feel tense to me.”

“Our mutual friend, Lefty Flint, is up for a parole hearing on the thirteenth of next month,” said Gus.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. The color drained from her face.

“It’s true.”

“Are you going out for the hearing?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“He’s got an automatic release. A perfect jail record. Everybody’s little darling.”

“You know he’s going to do it again, don’t you?” she said.

“I do.”

“Where’s the hearing?”

“The Men’s Correctional Institute. Vacaville, California.”

Ruby looked at Gus, as if she were going to say something.

“My husband’s about to cut in on you,” she said.

When the drummer from Peter Duchin’s orchestra rolled the drums for silence, Lil Altemus went to the microphone with a glass of champagne in her hand and
made a charming speech, even if she didn’t believe what she was saying, which she didn’t, saying how much she liked Bernie Slatkin and how perfect she thought he was for Justine, and how glad she was to have Bernie’s aunt and uncle, Hester and Sol Slatkin, in the family. When Bernie got up to deliver his speech, he said he thought he was the luckiest man on earth to be married to Justine Altemus, and his dimple was admired by all of Justine’s friends as he raised his glass to toast his beautiful new wife.

“You should be off, Justine,” said Lil.

“After I throw the bouquet, Mother,” replied Justine.

“Throw it to poor Dodo,” said Lil.

“Isn’t it sweet the way she takes care of Grandfather, wiping all the drool off his mouth all the time,” said Justine.