House Party (9 page)

Elly yanked up the zipper on her old plaid gingham, threw her bathing suit into the wet towel and slammed out of the room. She marched across the hall and burst into Bryan's room. "Bernarr MacFadden, I presume," she said and giggled. A radio was playing softly and Bryan Ames, clad in his pajama bottoms, was supine on the floor executing, more or less in time to Straus's "Southern Roses," an ingenious exercise guaranteed to hit excess fat at the seat, stomach, waistline, calves and thighs where it lived. It had been prescribed by the instructor at the gymnasium where Bryan went thrice weekly to combat the insidious softening that accompanies sedentary jobs.

Bryan leaped up and grinned self-consciously. "Don't you ever knock on doors?" he asked.

"If I did, I'd never get to see sights like this. What are you messing around with this Du Barry Success School stuff for? I think you're a very fine figger of a man, sir." She tweaked a white hair out of his chest. "Not getting any younger, though, are we?"

"Ouch! Go on, beat it, now. I've got some more exercises to do."

"Goodie. I'll watch."

"You will not!”

"Oh, come on, Bryan. Get dressed and take me down to breakfast. You can carry me and that'll do wonders for your biceps."

"Take you down to
breakfast?
My God, Elly, don't you know the way after twenty-one years?"

"Twenty-two. Oh, come on. Come downstairs with me. I just don't feel like going alone. Mother's there and Felicia's beau and Kathy all gussied up like Mata Hari and . . . Bryan, do
you
think I'm a slob?"

"How do you mean, Elly?"

"Well, you know. Kind of careless and not well-groomed and . . . Well, here we all are with that Claire being so fashionable you can't stand it. And Felicia all done up as usual. And even old Kath out-doing Felicia. Really, you should see what she has on this morning, it's a kind of bathing suit. Very pretty, I guess, but I'd hate to swim a stroke in it. And shoes that look as though she had a club foot on both feet and . . ."

The radio interrupted them: "When the Marquis de Lafayette sought a safe repository for his priceless French heirlooms, he chose The Knickerbocker Trust Company, America's oldest . . ." Bryan snapped off the radio.

"Elly," he said, putting an arm around her, "I think you're wonderful. I like you the best of all."

"Then will you go down to breakfast with me and go swimming with me after? I'll race you to the raft and even let you win."

"What about your boy friend?"

"What
boy friend?"

"Young Sullivan."

"Joseph Sullivan happens to be an author whose work I am occupied in encouraging him in. And I happen to hold a position of some responsibility in a leading publishing . . "

"Come off it, Elly," Bryan said, slapping her across the rear. "You haven't read a book since
Raggedy Ann.
And when it comes to helping somebody
write
one—why you can't even speak English."

"Well it just so happens to be true. I don't care
that—"
she tried to snap her fingers and failed, "—for Joe Sullivan or any other male."

"Not even me?"

"Except
you. Oh, Bryan come
on.
Be nice to me. You're the only person in the whole family who ever understands me or doesn't tell me my slip's showing or . . ."

"It isn't showing now."

"That's because I'm not wearing one. Aren't I a chippy! You're the only one who's ever any fun."

"All right. Beat it while I get dressed."

"Can't I stay? I'll bet you haven't got anything I couldn't find in Gray's
Anatomy."

"Well, go read Gray's
Anatomy.
Or go look at Paul." Bryan opened Paul's door and shoved her through.

Elly was back in a minute.

"Oh Bryan, he's in one of his moods. Why, Bry-an Ames! What darling undies! I think that little checkerboard pattern is too cunning!"

"What's the matter with Paul?"

"Oh, he's just sitting there at that old drawing board in that empty room scratching down a lot of figures. He's wearing that dirty old kind of monk's robe and he hasn't shaved and when I just asked him—and quite pleasantly—what he was doing (not that I really cared) he practically bit me. Oh, Bryan, why do he and Kathy have to be so moody and complicated when you and I aren't one bit complicated at all?"

"Aren't we? Well, come on. Let's go,"

"No trousers this morning, Bryan?"

"Oh. Damn you. Wait a minute."

The beach at the old Pruitt Place was three miles long and considered one of the finest on the Sound. It was remarkably free of stones and seaweed and the sand was as fine and as white as snow. From the lawn a rustic staircase—somewhat insecure—led to an even more rustic structure built vaguely in the style of a Swiss chalet. Violet referred to this building as a cabana. Lily, more realistically, called it a bath house. It had been put up by dear Papa in a day when no gentleman and no lady would be seen walking the hundred yards from the main house to the beach in bathing dress. Tradition had clung and now the chalet still housed a number of dressing cubicles, some incredibly complicated folding furniture, two Deauville umbrellas, sand, a few damp bathing suits and quite a lot of wasps.

"Now
me
on your shoulders, Unca John.
Me.
Emily's been up for a hun'red, million, billion, trillion, zillion, billion, thousand, schmillion, willion years."

"I have not, Robin. I haven't, I haven't, I
haven't!”

"All right," John Burgess shouted. "There's room for you both. Try to swim out here, Bob."

"I can't. You come get me."

"Try, Bob."

"Robin is a scaredy-cat! Robin is a scaredy-cat! Robin is a . . ."

"I am
not.
Fraulein, make Emily stop teasing me and . . ."

"Come on, Bob. Just try to swim out this far. I won't let anything happen to you . . ."

"Robin is a . . ."

"Fraulein," Mrs. Ames said, looking up from beneath her sunshade, "don't you think it would be nice if you took the children for a little walk in the woods, or possibly up to see their mother?"

"Oh, no, madam," Fraulein said. "The sunshine on the beach is very good for them. On the other side, when I was with the
Grafins
boys, every summer to the beach at Ostend we went and . . ."

"I see," Mrs. Ames said, and tried to close her ears to the shrieks of the children.

Kathy made her unsteady way down the rustic stairs. She felt terribly self-conscious in this new outfit and more than a little disgruntled. She'd sat alone at the breakfast table for a full hour, nursing cold, unwanted cups of coffee just waiting for Manning! He'd never come. The approach of Elly and Bryan had forced her down here. Now she felt all dressed up with no place to go.

"Good morning, Mother," she said.

"Good morning, dear. Did you . . . Good heavens, Kathy, what
are
you got up as?"

"It's just a bathing suit, Mother. Why? Don't you like it?"

"Well, it's awfully
extreme
and I don't think it's quite as appropriate as that sweet little white pique you . . . Look out, dear, you'll fall! And I don't wonder, with those shoes. If you don't get some sensible shoes on your feet, Kathy, you'll be going to the dance in a cast. I noticed last night that you were wearing heels as high as . . ."

"Oh, Mother!” Kathy sank in the sand near her mother, fighting back the tears.

Mrs. Ames was immediately contrite. She didn't know what had got into her older daughter—usually such a level-headed girl—Kathy seemed quite upset enough without being made any more upset. "Well, it's a very
pretty
suit, darling. Lovely material. But it just doesn't look like the sort of thing you'd swim the English Channel in. Mr. Burgess says the water's lovely this morning. Why don't you go in with him before those children of Felicia's drown him."

"I don't think I'd better, Mother. In the first place he's Felicia's man and . . ." Her voice trailed off and she jammed a cigarette into her new black holder and waved a match vaguely in the direction of where she thought the cigarette might be.

"Well, I wonder if Felicia would play by quite as strict Queensberry Rules as . . . Kathy! Watch out! You'll set yourself ablaze! Honestly, child, it's bad enough to smoke as much as you do, but with that contraption you make it look like narcotic addiction. Mr. Burgess is a very nice man. I had quite a chat with him down at breakfast until those little savages of Felicia's dragged him off. I must say he has a way with children. They've only had four or five scenes in the past hour. He comes from . . ."

"Yoo hoo! Good morning everyone. Isn't it a divine day!” Violet waved vivaciously from the bath house.

Mrs. Ames had said five years ago that all women reached an age when they should stop wearing bathing suits in public. At that time she stopped. Violet, however, still felt—rightly or wrongly—that she had reached no such age and her many bathing costumes gave violent testimony to the fact. Today she wore a strident magenta suit flounced at the hips and embroidered with seed pearls and tiny seashells. The seashell motif was carried out in some bracelets and a necklace, around the cork soles of her shoes and on the rims of her sun glasses. Over everything she had flung a hooded mantle of white teddy bear cloth. She had no intention of getting wet.

"Good morning Lily, Kathy, Fraulein. Hello, darlings!" she shouted out to sea. "Oh, don't you
love
the salt air! Kathy! What a chic suit! Where on earth did you
get
it?" She spread her cape, sat down and began anointing herself with sun tan lotion. "My dears, this is the most
divine
stuff. It's new. Took them simply
years
to perfect it. It just lets you tan ve-ry gra-jully to the color of an apricot and then
no more.
Lily dear, would you be a perfect pet put some of this on my back where I can't reach? There's a love.”

"It sounds marvelous, Violet," Mrs. Ames said, "except my shoulders are quite freckled."

"Oh, no! Where?"

"All over."

"Oh, well, when I get back to town I know a marvelous little woman on Fiftieth Street who peels you—gets you right down baby skin. So I'll stretch right out here and simply
toast.
Just be a sun worshiper and enjoy myself. Do you have any cigarettes, Kathy? I seem to have left mine up at . . . Thank you, dear. And a light? Oh, thanks. Now I don't want to hear or speak another single, solitary word. I'm just going to lie here and
commune!"

"
Hélas! Animation sur la plage
!"

"
Why
,
Uncle Ned!" Violet shrieked.

"Just bring my chair and my umbrella and the writing things and those dark glasses right down here, Sturgis," Uncle Ned commanded. "Ah, there they are—the lovely Pruitt sisters! Good morning my dears. Morning Katherine."

"Good morning, Uncle Ned," the ladies called in unison.

"Oh, Lily," Violet began in a stage whisper that carried far over the water, "isn't that just too
heavenly.
He's wearing his dark blue blazer and that sweet yachting cap and his monocle . . ."

"He has the eyesight of a ferret, Violet."

". . . and he looks just as dapper and elegant as a prince."

"I suspect that was his intention, Violet."

"Oh, but Lily, doesn't it take you back? Isn't it just as though we were girls again?"

Once settled on the sands, Uncle Ned put up his monocle and surveyed the three sirens around him. "Well, a pleasant day, my dears, I must admit. An uncommonly stylish costume, for
you,
Katherine."

"Isn't
it smart, Uncle Ned!" Violet gushed, "I was just telling her . . .”

"It rather calls to mind one that poor Gertie Lawrence had in twenty-six—no, twenty-seven. Exactly the same color, except
she
dominated
it
."

"Why, Uncle Ned! It's lovely on Kathy. Don't you think so, Lily?”

"I think I'll go in swimming," Kathy said and got blindly to her feet.

Kathy plunged into the Sound and swam a long, long way under water. Long enough so that she was sure the salt water had washed away the tears she was shedding. Springing up from the sandy bottom she came face to face with John Burgess. "Oh," she cried.

"I thought you'd drowned. You were under there a long time.”

"No such luck, I'm afraid. Besides, the tide's not quite in yet. I can still stand."

"So can I," John said, a little defiantly.

"So can I," Robin shouted, clinging steadfastly to John Burgess.

"You can not, Robin Choate," Emily screamed, "because I can't and I'm taller'n you an' I can't. I'm a whole lot taller'n you; a hundred million, billion, trillion . . ."

"You are
not!"

"I am, too," Emily screamed. "You are not . . ."

"Hey, kids, kids! Stop it!" John said. "She
is
taller than you are, Hob, but that's because she's two years older. Some day, when you're grown up, you'll be taller than she is."

"Then I can beat her up, Unca John, can't I?"

"Look, I tell you what we'll do. We'll play a game. It's a game milled Dolphin. They're a kind of fish that breathe air and when people like sailors fall off boats then the dolphins pick them up on their backs and carry them right in to shore."

"They do?"

"Yes, they do. Now, Emily, you get on my back, and Robin, you get on Miss Ames's back . . ."

"I think it'll be all right if you call me Kathy . . ."

". . . and we'll carry you right in to shore," John finished.

"Straight to Fraulein," Kathy added.

A moment later the Choate children were dumped, squealing and giggling, on the sand. "Do it again!" Emily screamed. "Again!”

"More! More! More!" Robin yelled.

"No. No more!” John said. "You've been in the water an hour and that's enough. Go on to your nurse."

"Darlings," Violet screamed, "come to Granny. Oh, there Granny's precious babies!"

"Robin. Emily! Come," Fraulein called.

"Wanna play dawfin. Wanna play dawfin."

"Do it again Unca John. Kathy. Do it again."

"Darlings come to Granny!"

"More, more. Mormormormormormormormormor-r-r-r-e!”

"Children! Come! Here iss Fraulein!"

Emily fixed John with a beady eye. "If you don't take me up on your back before I count to ten I'll hold my breath and never never stop an' I’ll die an’ everybody'll say you murdered me an' policeman will come an' take you to jail an' . . ."

"Emily Choate, you stop talking like that this instant or I’ll turn you over my knee and give you the spanking you've never had,” Kathy said quietly. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking, like that to this nice man who's been playing with you all morning! Why, he's your
guest
. Now you apologize to Mr. Burgess this minute and then you go right up to Fraulein and try to be polite. You too, Robin."

Emily's jaw dropped for a moment as she stared bug-eyed at Kathy. Then she said "I 'pollygize."

"Me, too," Robin said. Docilely they marched hand in hand up the beach to Fraulein.

"There," Kathy said and dived into the water. Stunned, John Burgess followed. With expert strokes Kathy swam out to the white raft which bobbed a hundred yards from the shore. She climbed briskly up the ladder and stood erect and glistening. For a moment she was very beautiful—tall, slim and covered with a thousand bright diamonds of water.

Burgess followed her less agilely and sank to the planking floor of the raft. "You certainly have a way with children, Miss Kathy."

"I have?" Kathy said blankly. "Well, it's the first I ever heard of it. I've never had any experience."

"But the way you just talked Emily out of holding her breath. I'd have taken her out again just to keep her from suffocating."

"I think that when she got uncomfortable she'd have stopped. I mean fair is fair. It's all right to play with children but when they start blackmailing you, then it calls for action. And I'd have
given
her that spanking, too. She's never had one, yet."

"W-well, they're pretty good kids, at that."

"They're not. They're perfectly dreadful. But it isn't their fault."

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Well, I mean if I had two children I'd spend a lot of time with them and . . ." Kathy suddenly went crimson. "You don't happen to have a cigarette on you, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. This case is supposed to be waterproof." John dug into the pocket in his trunks never taking his eyes oil Kathy. "Go on, I'm listening."

"G-go on with
what?"
Kathy stammered

"With what you were saying."

"Saying?"

"About why it isn't Bob and Emily's fault that they're so bad. You said if you . . ."

"Ha-ha," Kathy laughed hollowly. "It's completely slipped my mind. Say, that waterproof case of yours
does
keep cigarettes pretty dry. I must get one. I understand you're in law, Mr. Burgess."

"My name is John. I
am
in law. And you can buy those cases at any drugstore. Now go on with what you were saying."

"If you don't mind, I'd honestly rather not. Never having had any children, I'm no authority on how to raise them and it's none of my business anyway. I'm sorry I started the whole thing. Now, let's please talk about something else."

"All right We'll talk about you. Commence."

"Well," Kathy began miserably, "I was born in the Lenox Hill Hospital on November nineteenth in nineteen tw . . ." She looked up toward the shore and saw Manning Stone sauntering elegantly down the rustic steps. John looked up, too. "Uh, listen, Mr. Bur . . . Listen, John. I'm getting kind of chilled out here and would you mind terribly if I were to swim in. Brrrrrrr."

"You liar. It's a good eighty and you're perspiring. I ought to be insulted but I'm not. However, if you don't mind a word of advice, I'd suggest that you just stay put—like a siren on a rock or some thing. I expect he'll be able to swim out here to you. He looks fairly strong."

"What are you
talking
about?" Kathy fumed. Really, this ugly oaf!

"To continue: You were born in the Lenox Hill Hospital . . .”

Manning moved down the stairs with the fluid grace that had attracted so many ladies, old and young. He had slept well, dressed carefully and breakfasted lightly in his room. That frank little talk with Kathy in the gazebo last night had been most encouraging—almost. He wished she had been more specific about the "small trust fund" she'd be coming into on her thirtieth birthday. "Small" was such a nebulous term—fifteen, twenty, twenty-five thousand a year? Well, from what he'd seen so far, small for an Ames would be large for a Stone.