The Life She Wanted: A Novel(10)
When the song ended, she hoped he would ask her for the next dance. Instead, he led her to the side. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief and took two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.
“You do look lovely this evening. I can’t get over how pretty you are,” Owen said, handing her a glass of champagne. “I’ve rarely seen you in anything but a white tennis skirt and long cardigan.”
Pandora basked in Owen’s praise. She had to make him see that she fit in with his social set. Not just on the tennis court but anywhere.
“I’m like any girl, I love nice clothes,” she said lightly. “It’s a wonderful party. I can’t wait until tomorrow. Virginia said there would be fireworks and a treasure hunt.”
“Mother loves her treasure hunts; she misses the Easter egg hunts we had when we were children,” Owen said. “At least our party is early in the season. By the time school starts in September, I’ve drunk so much champagne, I can’t stand the taste.” He smiled. “Though hardly anyone drinks champagne at Princeton; the bartender at my eating club makes the best sidecars.”
Pandora had read about Princeton’s Eating Clubs in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, This Side of Paradise. There were seventeen clubs, all lined up in a row on Prospect Avenue. They had names like Ivy Club and Cap and Gown Club, and only men of a certain social pedigree were invited to be members. The houses had their own ballrooms and held parties called “Boxers and Blazers” and “Butts, Butts, Butts.”
“The Enrights are having a house party at the end of the month,” Owen said. “You should come.”
“I’d love to, but I don’t know the Enrights,” Pandora replied.
She had heard of them, though. Their summer estate, Blythdale, was supposed to be one of the loveliest in Hyde Park. It sat high on the Hudson surrounded by woodlands and a pond.
“I’ll have Mother get you an invitation,” Owen responded. He pointed across the dance floor. “I should go. I promised Mother I’d dance with Lucy Vanderbilt.”
Owen drifted off and Pandora returned to their table. The waiters had removed the entrée plates and replaced them with silver dessert bowls. Each bowl was filled with cut-up pieces of tropical fruit and topped with a maraschino cherry.
Pandora dipped her dessert fork into the fruit, going over her exchange with Owen. He had complimented her looks, and he obviously enjoyed dancing with her. He had invited her to another house party. All of that boded well.
“There you are,” Archie said as he approached the table. He pushed his hair from his forehead. “You have to dance with me. The last two girls stepped on my toes, and my feet hurt. I need to dance with someone I trust.”
Pandora stifled a laugh. He was exaggerating, of course. All the girls were in love with Archie and wanted to be held close by him. But Archie didn’t want a serious girlfriend. He was happiest reading by the swimming pool or chasing the Van Luyens’ two English setters around the lawn.
“I’d love to dance, but first let me finish my fruit cocktail,” Pandora said. “I know what you were doing at dinner, praising me in front of Owen. It was very kind, but you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Archie sat opposite her. He speared his cherry with a fork. “You’ve grown quite lovely, Pandora, and you don’t even notice it. You should have seen Owen’s face when you walked down that staircase. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“You do say nice things sometimes.” She smiled at Archie. “I’ve had enough fruit cocktail. I’m ready to dance.”
The band struck up “Swanee,” and Archie took Pandora’s hand. Archie was a very good dancer, and he spun her effortlessly around the floor. Other couples watched them approvingly, and she felt a surge of happiness. She felt so at ease with Archie, it was a relief to be in his arms.
The outdoor lights twinkled on the lawn, and candles flickered in the candelabras. Tonight, she belonged on the dance floor at Rosecliff. She was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter Three
July 1926, Hyde Park, New York
The next morning, Pandora came down to breakfast before any of the other guests. She was used to getting up early to help Esther in the kitchen. Maude Van Luyen insisted on a large, formal breakfast even if it was just the immediate family. While Esther prepared the cod fish and bacon, Pandora would make the porridge that Archie ate by the bowlful and lay out the silver coffee and tea set.
She loved arranging the coffee and tea set in the Van Luyens’ dining room. The sun streamed onto the long maple table, and the bird’s-egg-blue china from Tiffany’s looked lovely on the embroidered lace tablecloth. Pandora dreamed of presiding over her own dining room table. She’d serve warm muffins with English marmalade. There would be a pitcher of orange juice, as well as newspapers so she and her husband could read about current events. After breakfast, she’d retreat to her study to sketch a new dress or drive into her boutique in Hyde Park.
The breakfast laid out in the Winthrops’ dining room on Saturday morning was even grander than breakfast at Riverview. There were three different kinds of eggs and a platter of broiled chops and creamed potatoes. The coffee was strong and fragrant, and the maid said Mabel Winthrop brought the jam back from London.