“Oh, that’s Joe Davies,” said May. “Our friend from Washington. Didn’t I tell you we have a houseguest this weekend?”
“Yes, but when you said a dear friend of yours, I assumed it was…” I studied the man a moment longer, noticing the expressiveness of his dark eyes, warm and wide set, as he spoke. Just then he said something that made Jay erupt in laughter.
May’s features creased into a coy expression as she turned back to me—the face that one makes when she’s just been struck by a brilliant idea. That, or when she realizes that her brilliant idea has been taken up by her confidante. “He is a dear friend, Marjorie.” And now May’s voice was low and conspiratorial. “And not only to us, but to President Roosevelt as well. Remarkable man, really.”
“He’s from Washington?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m just glad to hear that he doesn’t come from Wall Street.”
“Far from it,” May said, laughing.
I went on: “And hopefully that means he hasn’t read all about my scandalous divorce.” It would be nice to meet someone and not feel as if they already knew all of my dirtiest secrets.
“Oh, I doubt he has,” May answered, shaking her head. “Joe is concerned with matters of more consequence than the gossip rags, my dear. He’s a lawyer, but the word is that Roosevelt keeps trying to pull him into his administration. Or else convince him to run for the Senate.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding.
Now that was something unexpected. I’d sworn off men—not only Wall Street bankers, but all of them—and yet, as I stood there on that pleasant, starlit southern night, I could not entirely deny the urge I felt to meet this man, this Joe Davies from Washington. So I was delighted when May leaned close and whispered, “Let’s sit down to dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re terribly informal tonight. I didn’t even bother with place cards, since it’ll be just the four of us.” I did not mind at all.
May guided me toward the table, speaking in a hushed voice: “I’ll put Joe to your left.” Did I imagine the playful lift of her brow as she smiled at me?
The table was small and tastefully decorated on the terrace overlooking the water, with a crystal vase of fresh-clipped orchids at its center and a small flute of champagne set before each place. Jay, our host, gestured toward his dark-haired friend as he introduced us. “Marjorie Post, please meet Joe Davies, in town to visit us for the weekend. We’re trying to convince him there is more to life than just politics.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Post.” Joe Davies turned his dark-eyed gaze on me, and I felt a shiver across my skin as he extended a hand to help me into my seat. When he tucked in my chair, his fingers lightly brushed past my shoulders. What was that sensation? I wondered. Delight? Attraction? Whatever it was, it had been months since I’d felt anything like it, and it was not entirely unwelcome.
“And you, Mr. Davies,” I answered. “I’ve heard nothing but the most wonderful things from May.”
“That so? I had no idea May was such a liar.” Joe Davies took his own seat at the table with a smile. The moonlit surface of the ocean rolled gently behind him. I shifted in my chair, reminding myself not to stare. And to take in a big breath of the warm, salty night air.
“Well, Joe is a particularly welcome guest tonight, because he comes from Washington with some terribly juicy gossip,” Jay said, sitting back casually in his chair as a server appeared on the terrace with the first course.
“What’s that?” May asked, her features brightening. “What a considerate houseguest you are, Joe, coming with a gift like that.”
Joe Davies demurred, lowering his eyes to the table, so Jay willingly carried on, clapping a friendly hand on his guest’s shoulder: “Turns out our friend Joe Davies here needed this brief respite in the sun even more than we knew, because things are about to get a lot busier for him.”
May and I exchanged an inquisitive glance as Jay continued, “Roosevelt has finally prevailed upon his pal Joe to leave the comforts of his fabulously lucrative private practice and take up the work of our government.”
Now I, too, was undeniably intrigued. “In what capacity?” I asked.
Joe cocked his head to the side, accepting his plate of salad as he answered: “It’ll be a posting with the State Department, in all likelihood.”
“Now, Joe, no need for all this modesty when you’re among friends,” Jay interjected, and then, leaning toward me, he added, “Pretty soon, we’ll all be calling him Ambassador Davies.”