“Do you remember when we used to do this together? I always wanted to make the pea pods into boats and sail them in the sink,” he said cheerfully.
“You were no help at all.” She laughed.
“It was more fun than piano lessons.” He rummaged in his bag and brought out a slim book. “I brought you something.”
Pandora couldn’t have been more surprised. It was a dog-eared copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain.
“I found it on my bookshelf. The first time I read it was the summer you and your father arrived at Riverview,” Archie went on. “Tom Sawyer wasn’t the most stand-up guy in the beginning, but he turned out all right in the end. And he was loyal to his friends.” He handed her the book. “I wanted you to have it as an apology.”
Pandora glanced curiously at Archie. She had never heard Archie apologize in his life. Whenever he was wrong about something, he found a humorous way to wriggle out of it.
“An apology?”
“For the night you got engaged to Harley. You didn’t ask for my advice, and I shouldn’t have given it to you.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, frowning.
“Harley is one of my closest friends. But people talk, especially at college.” He picked up another pea pod. “I heard rumors.”
“What kind of rumors?” she asked cautiously.
Archie’s cheeks turned red. He emptied the peas into the bowl.
“At Princeton, Harley was only interested in the theater. The theater attracts a certain kind of man.” He stopped and looked at her searchingly.
Pandora’s heart beat faster. Had Archie heard rumors about Harley’s homosexuality? She couldn’t admit anything to him.
“If you’re talking about showgirls and actresses, you’re worried about nothing,” she said airily. “Harley is completely loyal, and he’s not involved in the theater anymore.”
“That’s when I realized I was wrong,” Archie reflected. “I should have apologized sooner.”
“Harley is my best friend. We’re perfect for each other.” She emptied the peas into the bowl.
“I’m glad.” Archie looked at Pandora. “I care about you, Pandora. I only want you to be happy.”
Pandora took a deep breath. She had to regain her composure. She turned the conversation to Archie.
“What about you? Are you happy with Lucy?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” Archie said with a shrug. “I’m probably going to marry her anyway.”
“That’s ridiculous; you should marry whomever you like.”
“I’ve told you, that’s not how it works.” He took an envelope out of his bag. “I received an invitation for a two-year fellowship at Oxford. It’s only awarded to top students. But I could as easily accept it as I could become a janitor in one of my father’s buildings.”
He crumpled the envelope in his hand.
“My future is all planned out. I’ve been invited to the Vanderbilts’ summer house, Sonogee, in Maine. Then our family will spend Christmas at the Vanderbilts’ estate, Biltmore, in North Carolina. I’ll probably propose on New Year’s Eve, and Lucy and her aunt will spend months planning the wedding. We’ll honeymoon in Rome and Venice and then move into the Vanderbilt mansion on Fifth Avenue.”
“You have to stick up for yourself,” Pandora said hotly. “Accept the fellowship, marry someone you love.”
Archie looked at her heavily. He slipped the envelope back into the bag.
“Easy for you to say. No one is counting on you to keep the family name in the New York Social Register,” he remarked. “My parents mean well, and I understand. What’s the point of building a real estate empire if there’s no one to carry it on?”
Pandora hated seeing Archie upset. But she didn’t have an answer.
“I came to apologize, and yet here we are having this bleak conversation.” Archie stood up and smiled. “That’s why they invented tennis. It’s impossible to worry about life when I’m concentrating on my serve.”
Three hours later, Pandora crossed the gardens from the cottage to the main house. The lawn was dark, and the only sound came from the crickets on the riverbank. She had spent an hour in the bath and another two hours curled up in her bed reading. She was hungry.
She saw a light on in the study. She wondered who was there. The Van Luyens were out to dinner, and Archie was spending the evening with Lucy. The door was open, so she poked her head inside. Archie was sitting at the desk. A plate of casserole was in front of him, along with a glass and a bottle of whiskey.
“Pandora.” Archie greeted her with surprise. His eyes were slightly glassy. “I thought you were dining at Blythdale.”
“Harley doesn’t get back until tomorrow,” Pandora replied. “I decided I needed a quiet night at home.”
“You can join me if you like.” He waved at the tray. “I thought I’d try the casserole, but I’m not hungry.” He picked up the glass. “The whiskey works much better.”
Archie hardly ever got drunk. When he did occasionally get tipsy, he merely ambled upstairs and went to bed. He’d appear at breakfast the next morning, freshly shaven and smiling, without the slightest trace of a hangover.
He seemed tipsy now. She could see a line of sweat on his forehead, and his words were slightly slurred.
“Are you feeling all right?” she inquired.
He attempted a smile. He picked up the bottle.
“Your father beat me at tennis. Then Lucy invited me to a private opera performance.” Archie grimaced. “I don’t like opera. So I decided to stay here and eat casserole and drink whiskey instead.” He refilled his glass. “Do you remember when we were children and Virginia made us put on plays? Her favorite was Peter Pan.”
“I remember.”
“I never liked playing Peter. I was afraid the same thing would happen to us as in the play.” He gulped the whiskey. “That we’d grow up and never be together again.”
“We’re still together,” Pandora said.
She recalled when Archie spontaneously added a scene to the play and gave her a peck on the lips, sealing their closeness forever. The kiss had surprised her. She hadn’t thought of that in years.
“We have other people in our lives. Even Virginia has someone, though she doesn’t talk about him.”
Pandora’s throat burned. She felt suddenly thirsty.
“I wouldn’t mind a glass of whiskey.” She pointed at the bottle.
Archie moved to the other side of the desk and handed her a shot. She drank it quickly. Then another. The burning persisted, and he poured her another.
Their hands touched, and she glanced at Archie. She saw something new in his eyes, but it took a moment to recognize what it was. It was something she hadn’t seen before.
Archie wanted to kiss her. She was sure of it.
She wanted to kiss him too. She wanted more than a few kisses; she wanted to make love. Not for the reasons she would likely sleep with Harley in the future—in order to conceive a child. She wanted to make love because they were a man and a woman who were so consumed by desire they couldn’t do anything else. Making love with Archie would restore something to her, it would prove that she was a desirable woman. But Archie never would. He was too good, too honorable.