Jack obliged, but Cornelia noticed—or maybe hoped—that he looked reluctant as he did so. Or perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so honest.
As the night continued, Cornelia noticed herself making eye contact with Jack as she danced with other potential suitors. She felt dismayed if she looked over at him and he wasn’t looking back at her. She longed for him to cut in and struggled to make conversation with anyone else. But perhaps he hadn’t felt the spark that she had. Maybe it was all in her head.
At the end of the night, Jack crossed her path again. “Miss Vanderbilt,” he said quietly with a wink as he passed, placing something in her hand so discreetly that even she wasn’t sure it had happened.
She nodded and smiled as he walked off. It took every ounce of self-control she had to wait to open the note until she was home, back in the safety of her lavishly appointed room on K Street.
To the enchanting Miss Vanderbilt:
I must see you again. Might I meet you tomorrow night at 5 p.m. for a walk? Away from the prying eyes of the press and the whispers of society matrons, you should feel free to be your true and lovely self, who has captivated me at first breath.
Ever yours,
Jack Cecil
P.S. I’d prefer that our drinking society bear its later name, one that I feel quite certain already is better suited to our fate: Companions to the Death.
Cornelia held the note to her chest, feeling giddy and girlish as she did, and not wanting to hide or deny either feeling. He got the joke! He knew! It felt, in a way, as if this simple exchange of Antony and Cleopatra trivia had sealed their fate.
“Well, do tell, my dear,” Edith said with a bemused expression, entering the room in her pearls and fur from her own night out. “It appears your night might have been slightly more fruitful than mine.”
Cornelia’s cheeks glowed; her countenance sparkled. She had left with round, sad eyes and returned positively radiant.
“Mother,” she said breathlessly, “I think I’m in love.”
BABS Swingers
Out!” I called, putting my finger up. Ah, tennis. How glad I was that I had continued playing all these years. Even when Alice and Meredith had asked me not to, for fear that I would break a hip or blow out a knee or some other offensive old lady concern, I refused to do any such thing. Although I had succumbed to the dreaded tennis elbow brace.
We were playing mixed doubles this morning, just one set. It seemed to take longer now that we were older. My partner, David, and I were winning 4–2 over our opponents, Miles and… Linda. No. I shouldn’t think of her like that. Linda had truly taken an interest in my acclimation to Summer Acres this past week or so. She was lovely. She wore her fawn hair pulled back with a clip on each side and had the kindest smile. And it wasn’t her fault that she had pulled Miles’s name out of the hat when we drew partners for the game—like preschool children—or swingers. Swingers. The mere idea made me chuckle out loud.
“What’s so funny?” David asked.
David was a short, muscular man who was dreadfully serious but, as I had heard, delightfully brilliant once you got to know him. But I didn’t need to get to know him now. Now, I needed to win. As a girl, my competitive side was deemed unfeminine, a characteristic I should bury at all costs. Now, as a woman of a new millennium, it was part of my charm.
“Nothing’s funny,” I answered David’s question, drawing close to him. “Your serve is beautiful today. One more of those beauties, and we’ll be up five–two.”
David nodded.
“If you can possibly serve to Linda’s backhand, she’s almost guaranteed to hit it down the line right to me, where I can cram it all the way to the baseline behind her.”
David smiled now. “You’re my favorite partner,” he said. “Most of these women are just out here to pick up men. You’re a real player, Barbara.”
I chuckled again, but my face went dark when I heard Linda say, flirtatiously, “Miles, your strokes are so polished. Could you give me a lesson after?”
I controlled my eye roll, but Miles must have noticed my agitation because he winked at me, producing the type of butterflies I had assumed I was no longer capable of. “You’re going down, Bullock,” I said, pointing my racket at him.
“Am I?” he said. “Avenging your great Camp Holly Ridge loss?”
I laughed delightedly. The camp tournament had come down to Miles and me in a singles match for all the marbles. He had beaten me handily.
“Please serve,” I called to David. “This has just gotten personal.”
David, fortunately, was a great player. He dropped the ball right where I asked, and as expected, Linda delivered a clean backhand almost directly into my racket. I smashed a forehand volley to the baseline. Game.
Linda started the next game. It was her serve, and while she wasn’t a bad player, she was certainly the weakest on the court. What I hoped would be the quick last game in the set became a case of Keep Away from Miles. I hit the final shot, a risky lob that paid off, sailing way over Miles’s head all the way to the baseline behind him. Linda couldn’t get there in time. It wasn’t pretty, but it did the trick.
David and I tapped rackets before walking to the net and shaking hands with Miles and Linda.
“Good game,” I said to them, and they responded in kind.
I walked underneath the cabana, toweling myself off. The morning humidity had finally caught up with us. I ran my fingers through my short, damp hair, missing the ponytails of my youth. As Miles approached, I said, reminiscing, “I don’t care if I win or lose as long as I get to be on the court with you.”
He laughed. “That’s what I said to you when I won the Camp Holly Ridge tournament, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It was terribly sweet, if not slightly condescending.”
“I don’t want to beat you or lose to you anymore, Barbara. I want to be your partner, if you’ll let me.” Fortunately, I was already warm enough from the exercise that I knew he couldn’t see the blush rising up my cheeks. Goodness, the man was coming on strong. It pained me to admit that I had thought of him often these past sixty years, had wondered more than once what we could have had. But it made me feel unfaithful, ungrateful to my beloved husband. Reid had been a sure thing back then. Miles, with his big dreams, was new and exciting, which scared me a little. Or maybe the woman I became when I was with him all those years ago was what scared me. I couldn’t be sure.
“Such a flirt,” I said playfully.
“Not a flirt,” he said back. “Most sincere. And at the risk of sounding like a high schooler, would you accompany me to the dance tonight?”
My heart fluttered dangerously, but then I remembered I already had plans. “Unfortunately, my girls are coming out here for dinner tonight.”
“Unfortunately?”
I laughed. “Oh, that sounds awful. I positively adore them. It’s not unfortunate, except that I know they’re only coming to scold me for making this big decision without them—and that I can’t go to the dance with you.”
“Don’t most people want their parents in places like this?” Miles asked. “Where they don’t have to worry about them?”