Early Warning

Right then, Frank knew that his fate depended upon pretending that he had never met her before, to collude in the idea that he believed she was from Queens or Rome or wherever she wanted to be from. What people had done to survive the war was their own business, was it not? He smiled, knowing that his smile was still hypnotic if he really meant it. “My brother is a farmer in Iowa who makes harmonicas by hand, from roots and branches.”

She did laugh. She did.

They chatted for an hour, exchanging only names — hers was Lydia Forêt — but nothing about occupations or background. Button by button, she removed her coat. He took it from her and hung it on the coat rack. She was wearing a navy-blue sheath with a slender red belt. Frank took off his own jacket and loosened his tie. They discussed whether the humidity had gotten worse and the likelihood of a storm. Others were talking about Carol Burnett, who had won an Emmy the night before, so they did, too. “She’s funny,” said Frank. The woman said, “She’ll do anything. I like that.” Then she reddened a little and said, “For a laugh, I mean. I saw her do a show a few years ago somewhere around here, I think.” Frank said that he had seen Nichols and May on Broadway the previous year. The woman said that she had a ticket for My Fair Lady, and she was looking forward to seeing it. Frank said that he knew some people who had gone to the opening night of that. There was a pause in the conversation, and Frank said, “So — can anyone play the harmonica?”

“I guess this gentleman did.” She glanced at the page. “Herbert Kupferberg. In between watching Tannhäuser and Mozart, he taught himself to play ‘Taps.’ ” She glanced at her wristwatch and moved her feet. Frank stood up and fetched her coat. Then she stood, and he held it for her. He said, “I would like to talk with you again.”

She smiled. It was that same smile from eighteen years ago, sunny, retreating. She said, “Perhaps we shall run into each other.” She shook his hand, then turned and walked briskly through the White Horse Tavern door and click-click down Hudson Street. When she turned her head to look at something, Frank felt ravished and limp.

—

RUTH BAXTER’S CONSIDERED OPINION was that an autumn wedding was more unusual and therefore smarter than a June wedding or even a Christmas wedding, though you had more freedom with a Christmas wedding in choosing the colors of the bridesmaids’ dresses; but if, as Claire insisted, there were only going to be three bridal attendants (you could not say “bridesmaids,” because Lillian was not a “maid”), and four junior bridesmaids (Debbie, Janny, Tina, and Annie), then the color problem was easily solved — autumnal yellows and golds, with a touch of red here and there to go with autumn flowers (“Not the brightest of the year, but very classy,” said Ruth). Ruth’s own marital plans remained unclear, but Claire had become firmer in her identity as the future wife of Dr. Paul Darnell. For one thing, she had gotten fairly adept at her secretarial job, and it seemed silly for Paul to employ his current secretary when Claire could do the work for free; for another, she was almost twenty-four. Even if she got pregnant right away, she would be almost twenty-five when the baby was born, which meant that it might be rather difficult to regain her current figure afterward.

She went in and out of Paul’s house, installing her cookbooks on a shelf in the kitchen, even cleaning the frozen remains of unidentifiable leftovers out of his freezer for when they got back from their Point Clear, Alabama, honeymoon. She spent a morning clearing shelves in his garage, and then went to his bedroom — she just stood in the doorway and looked around, knowing that, in a few weeks, folding, washing, and hanging up all of these articles of clothing that were so redolent of Dr. Paul Darnell would be her job.

She loved him. Her mother was proud of the way she had come around to that — not by means of romance or being swept off her feet, but by means of patience and friendship. After Claire made it clear that she was going to marry Paul, Rosanna said, “Well, he is a diamond in the rough, a very good man deep down, and the children will smooth off the edges.” These days, Rosanna recalled Walter as the opinionated one, the hard-to-please one; though neither Claire nor anyone else remembered the two of them in this way, Claire thought it reassuring that Paul reminded Rosanna of her father. The wedding was set for October 14. Minnie and Lois were putting together the reception, to be held at Joe and Lois’s house, and Annie was training Jesse to carry the rings on a pillow.