People Like Us (30 page)

Lil Altemus had Easter that year. It alternated each year between Laurance and Janet Van Degan’s apartment and Lil’s, and it was Lil’s turn, although she felt a bit put upon by so much family so soon after Justine’s wedding. Justine and Bernie were there, of course, although their roles as newlyweds had been superseded by Ormonde and Dodo Van Degan, recently returned from their Hobe Sound honeymoon. Hubie came, without Juanito, of course, who always caused a scene whenever Hubie was summoned to one of the family rites. Christmas he could understand, he said. Easter he couldn’t, even after Hubie told him they had been having Easter lunch, at either Uncle Laurance’s or his mother’s, ever since he could remember, and the practice had been started long before that, at Grandfather Van Degan’s when he and Grandmother, dead for years, still lived in the old Van Degan house on 79th Street. “If it’s any consolation to you, Juanito, I hate going,” said Hubie, leaving.

“I really wish you wouldn’t dress like that, Hubie, especially with the whole family here,” said Lil to her son, when he greeted her on his arrival.

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” asked Hubie.

“You know perfectly well what’s wrong,” said his mother. Although Hubie dressed in blue jeans and cowboy boots, he did not remotely resemble a denizen of Greenwich Village, which his mother insinuated, as his shirts, with their button-down collars, were so unmistakably from Brooks Brothers, and his tweed jackets, with their double vents, were made to order for him by Mr. Sills. Even during the period when he exasperated his mother even more by wearing his hair too long for her taste, and certainly too long for the taste of Uncle Laurance, he had it trimmed every two weeks by the barber at the Butterfield, his father’s club, so that he ended up by being an outsider in the world he was born into as well as the world he aspired to be a part of.

Ned Manchester, Lil’s cousin on the Altemus side, who, since the romance of Loelia Manchester and Mickie Minardos, had to be taken care of on family occasions, was present that Easter, as he had the two children who refused even to meet Mickie. “What a wonderful father Ned is,” everybody always said. The lunch party was filled out by old friends like Matilda Clarke, whose sons lived in Santa Barbara and Santa Fe, and who always came. And then there were what Lil always called her strays, like Gus Bailey, who had no family that she knew of and no place to go. Ezzie Fenwick, who usually came, backed out at the last minute when he was asked to spend the weekend in the country with Elias and Ruby Renthal at Merry Hill, their new weekend retreat.

“Tell me about this marvelous picture,” said Gus Bailey, admiring a large family painting over a sofa in the drawing room.

“That’s the whole Van Degan family painted by Mr. Sargent in nineteen ten,” said Lil, who loved to describe the picture to newcomers. “That was the drawing room in the original Van Degan house on lower Fifth Avenue, where the New York Public Library is
now. You see, there’s the Commodore, and his wife Annie. She was one of the Houghton sisters, meant to be ugly beyond belief, but look how beautiful Mr. Sargent made her look. And that little boy there, in the pale blue satin suit, playing with the collie, is my father, Ormonde, age six.”

“My dear, look at your dogwood! Too beautiful!” cried Janet Van Degan, entering her sister-in-law’s drawing room. “Lorenza’s been here, I see.”

“Only just left minutes ago. It’s getting harder and harder to get Lorenza these days,” said Lil. “Of course, her success pleases me, but, after all, it was
I
who discovered her.” She spoke in the possessive way that she claimed also to have discovered Bobo, her hairdresser, and Nevel, her dress designer, meaning that she had been the first of the ladies in her group who had her flowers arranged each week by Lorenza. “Mrs. Renthal seems to be monopolizing all her time.”

“Mrs. Renthal, Mrs. Renthal, that’s all I ever hear these days,” said Janet, throwing her hands up in the air in mock horror.

“And that damn ball. I can’t believe the things Lorenza’s been telling me about it,” said Lil.

“Unbelievable,” agreed Janet Van Degan.

“Imagine brand-new people like the Renthals giving this kind of party,” continued Lil. “And inviting all of us. Two years ago no one ever heard of them. I wouldn’t
dream
of going.”

Laurance, overhearing, said to his sister, “We should talk about that, Lil.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the young Van Degans, Laurance and Laura, with little Janet, and the baby, Laurance III, whom everyone called Third. Little Janet, whom everyone said was a handful, made a dash for her grandmother.

“Who is this who is coming to see me? Who is it? Who?” cried Janet Van Degan, as her granddaughter ran to throw herself into her arms. Amid great screams of laughter, Janet picked up the child. “The preciousness
of her! Look at this adorable creature, Lil. Edible, that’s what she is. Edible.”

Lil watched her sister-in-law and envied her her joy. If she had a grandchild, which she did not have and which she might never have, she suspected, she wondered if she would, and doubted if she would at the same time, feel the kind of joy that Janet felt every time she saw her granddaughter.

“I suppose I should ask Bernie to carve the lamb,” Lil said to her daughter. “Does Bernie know anything about carving, Justine? Hubie is so hopeless at it, and you know how cross Uncle Laurance gets if the roast isn’t carved right.”

“You ask Bernie, Mother,” replied Justine.

Bernie, as it turned out, carved very well. Bernie played games very well. Bernie danced very well. Bernie knew how to decant wine. Bernie knew how to give charming toasts. Lil always wished that Hubie took as naturally to these things that she thought so important in a man, or gentleman, as Bernie, whom she did not think of as a gentleman, did.

“No more peanuts, children. You won’t believe the goodies Gertie has in store for us,” said Lil to the Manchester children. “Laurance, help me with the seating. Where shall I put our new stepmother?” she asked, pointing ironically toward Dodo. “She’s so used to sitting at the wrong end of the table, but I suppose I have to move her up this year.”

When Lil’s butler, Parker, told her that luncheon was served, he handed her a silver bell, and she rang it and rang it from room to room, to announce to her family and friends to move into the dining room. It was one of Lil’s characteristic things to do at all her parties, and it was thought to increase the merriment of the occasion.

There were two tables at lunch, the long table with the Chippendale chairs, called the grownups’ table on family occasions, and, in the window, the smaller round table, called the children’s table. Looking down, Lil
admired the vermilion-colored border of her fish plates. She loved her dozens of sets of dishes and took as much pleasure in their selection for each course as she did in the exquisite food that her cook prepared to go on them. Glancing down from her place at the head of the grownups’ table, Lil was glad to see that Matilda Clarke, dear Matilda, her oldest friend, was making Ned Manchester laugh, the first time anyone had seen Ned laugh since Loelia ran off with Mickie. Across from Matilda, she looked at her new stepmother, Dodo Fitz Alyn Van Degan, poor Dodo, no longer poor Dodo, rich Dodo, who would always remain poor Dodo to Lil. Dodo’s appearance in the brief weeks of her marriage had improved, and Lil wondered if she were dieting strenuously or better corseted, and if her suit was a real Chanel. A curious alliance in the family was the friendship of Dodo and Hubie. Dodo, it developed, had bought several of Juanito’s paintings at Hubie’s gallery in SoHo and hung them in the hallway of Ormonde Van Degan’s apartment on Fifth Avenue, a few buildings up from Lil’s, that was now hers to do with as she saw fit. “I think they’re charming,” she said, about Juanito’s work, the first time she saw them, and she did. She sent several other people to Hubie’s gallery to buy Juanito’s pictures too. In reurn, Juanito got her the dirty movies that she was too embarrassed to rent herself to show old Ormonde night after night.

“You will be sure, won’t you, Parker, to tell Gertie how much we enjoyed the fish mousse,” said Lil to her butler, as he cleared away the first course. Gertie was her cook, and Lil always interrupted her own conversation to send her compliments via her butler. “You used to be able to drive through Southampton and know who everyone was. Or, if you didn’t actually know them, you knew who they were. Now you see all these new names on those same houses, and you don’t know who any of them are, except they’ve all got about fifty million dollars. Who, pray tell, are the Reza Bulbenkians who just bought Evangeline’s house?”

Lil, who had cases of champagne left over from the wedding, decided to dispense with red and white wines that day and serve only champagne throughout the meal, making the occasion more festive. She raised her glass and welcomed the new members of the family, meaning Bernie Slatkin and Dodo Fitz Alyn, although Dodo could not strictly be considered a new member of the family, having been a part of it, at a secondary level, since she was taken in by them as a teenager. Dodo, blushing, thanked Lil and raised her glass to Ormonde, who wore his napkin like a bib, whom she said had changed her life. Lil and Laurance exchanged glances, as if to say, “I should say so,” but only applauded both Dodo and their father. Bernie sprang to his feet and made everyone laugh telling what it felt like for a person like him to suddenly find himself a member of a family like the Van Degans. Justine hopped to her feet and kissed Bernie, whom she had started to call dear heart when she addressed him, although it was a name that Bernie could not bear to be called. It was not lost on Matilda Clarke that Bernie Slatkin found Justine’s excessive affection irritating. Old Ormonde, seated next to Matilda, told her three times how much he missed Sweetzer and what a keen sportsman he had been. The toasts ended with Uncle Laurance asking everyone to rise to thank Lil for the wonderful day she had provided for them.

The late spring afternoon had turned rainy and chilly, and Parker lit a fire as the group reentered the drawing room to settle in Lil’s dark red damask sofas and chairs for coffee. Hubie and Justine stood together in front of one of the tall windows and looked out at the park, talking quietly. Laura Van Degan minded little Janet, who needed changing. Dodo minded Ormonde, who needed changing. Bernie Slatkin settled into a spirited game of backgammon with Matilda Clarke, who considered herself a champion, and was mildly put out that Bernie kept winning. Ned Manchester talked with Uncle Laurance and young Laurance about the state of
the stock market and expressed concern about what he, too, called the New People, like Elias Renthal and Reza Bulbenkian, who seemed to be running the financial world, but Uncle Laurance assured Ned that Elias Renthal was the most fascinating man in the financial community in years, and necessary to it. Gus Bailey, quiet that day, as he always was on holidays, talked with Lil Altemus, who had placed him next to her at lunch, about Trollope, who was her favorite writer, as she fed cookies to her King Charles spaniels. Bozzie Manchester excused himself to go to the men’s room but used the escape to telephone his mother, Loelia, at the Rhinelander Hotel to wish her a happy Easter; there was no answer and he did not leave a message.

Inevitably, during Van Degan gatherings, photograph albums were brought out and several people at a time pored over the pictures and captions. “Do you remember that time, Laurance, at Evangeline Simpson’s wedding? Look how pretty Evangeline was way back then. Poor Evangeline. She was so drunk the other night at the Dashwoods’,” said Lil.

“Look at Sonny Thomas. My God, Lil. Whatever happened to old Sonny?” asked Laurance.

“He married that woman with one leg, what’s her name, with the son on heroin. Betsy Babcock. He married Betsy.”

A sense of melancholy filled the air of Lil’s large room, as if they all knew that this would be their last Van Degan Easter.

“Where’s Juanito today?” asked Justine. She and Hubie were staring out the window at a bag lady establishing a beachhead for herself on a park bench across the street. Behind her a magnolia tree was in its first day of full blossom.

“Oh, lordie, I haven’t a clue,” replied Hubie, as if Juanito were no more than a casual acquaintance. It was not a truthful answer, but he did not wish to appear, even to his own sister, from whom he had no secrets, or very few, to be in the thrall of his Puerto Rican lover,
even though he knew that she knew that he was. Juanito Perez had the power to make him miserably unhappy with his rampant promiscuity, as well as ecstatically happy on the occasions he focused his amatory attentions on Hubie.

“Hubie, when are you going to tell me?” asked Justine suddenly.

“Spring is bustin’ out all over,” replied Hubie, pointing to the magnolia tree.

“Hubie?” insisted Justine.

“Tell you what?”

“Hubie, it’s me, remember, your sister.”

“What’s to tell? You already know. I knew you knew.”

“How?”

“At your wedding. Just before you were going up the aisle. When you kissed me. I saw in your eyes then that you knew.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “What’s going to happen, Hubie?”

“I’m going to cool, I suppose.”

“Don’t be flippant about this, Hubie.”

“I’m not being flippant, Justine. Believe me. I just haven’t arrived at my attitude yet. I don’t know how to play this scene.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it was Juanito who gave it to you?” asked Justine.

Hubie smiled. “Could have been. He tested positive. On the other hand, it could have been about six hundred other guys too. I was never what you would call inactive. Does that shock you, Justine?”

“I’m trying not to be shocked, Hubie.”

“Given my proclivities, there was a time not too long ago I even would have put the make on that hot number you got yourself married to.”

“Bernie?” They both laughed. “He would have broken your nose.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody broke my nose.”

“Oh, Hubie,” said Justine, putting her hand on her brother’s shoulder.