“Oh,” Val threw up her hands, “Clover says, Clover says, Theo says! I mean, I’m so glad Aunt Theo let us come to New York for the summer and all, but honestly, sometimes I feel like we’re living in, I don’t know, a museum in her apartment.”
“But who wouldn’t want to live in a museum?” I asked. “Remember how when we were little we wanted to go live in the Palace of Fine Arts?” That’s in this absolutely beautiful old building in San Francisco. “Remember, we wanted to go and put a tent up on the grounds, and feed the swans in the lagoon?”
“Yes,” said Val, “but, Franny, we were just children then.”
I paused. I supposed she had a point.
Here’s what I decided to write.
Dear Aunt Theodora,
Reporting on so-called progress. Valentine suggested the Plaza. Can you believe it? When everybody knows it’s owned by Donald Trump. Luckily I came up with Bemelmans Bar.
When I go to a place like that, I start to see you what you mean about California having no true style to speak of.
Anyway they sent us dessert and everything was just divine.
Oh, we met your old flame Warren. He says hello.
XXX
Frances
P.S. Please, Aunt Theodora, I think I should let you know I’ve just about filled the beautiful pink-and-gray journal you sent me from Paris. Would it be too bold to ask for another?
A week passed, and a package for me appeared in the mail. It was the same type of journal, but different colors, darker and richer this time, not pink-and-gray but plum suede with mauve pages. I couldn’t help but notice they were more like the colors Aunt Theo would choose for herself. A woman’s and not a girl’s.
The letter she had enclosed with the package had two words of advice: “Take notes.”
8
Ballet Lessons
Then Valentine fell in love, which of course is what we’d both been waiting for.
It happened this way.
Ever since we went to the Carlyle and Warren flirted with her, she’d been pretty much insufferable, flouncing around the apartment in her underwear and making mysterious faces in the mirror.
“Put some clothes on, Val,” I told her.
“Oh, just because you don’t have any boobs yet,” she said, which I think was absolutely uncalled for.
Incredibly enough, she went on, “Of course you might be one of those women who never really gets boobs. But that’s okay. There are so many different kinds of clothes you’ll be able to wear.”
“Val.”
“Well, just ask Clover. She was saying it used to be so hard going shopping with Aunt Theo, because, you know, Aunt Theo’s so tall and skinny and used to be a model and all and Clover’s so short. But Aunt Theo always made her feel better by saying that she, Clover I mean, had the kind of body that looks prettiest naked.”
“Val!”
“Suit yourself,” she said, and went back to applying her eyeliner in the mirror. It was Saturday morning, and she was getting ready to go to this ballet class at Lincoln Center. The reason for that was because an old friend of Aunt Theo’s turned out to be a former ballerina who now taught classes there for beginners. Clover had arranged for us to attend her classes for free if we wanted, but only Valentine wanted to; I did ballet once when I was little and wasn’t any good at it, so I didn’t want to make that mistake again. But Valentine loves dancing and was excited to give it a try.
“If you don’t finish up with that, you’re going to be late,” I warned her.
“Oh, hush! There might be boys there.”
“In ballet class?”
“Just, you know, around,” she said mysteriously.
After class, Valentine and I had planned to meet at this tearoom on the Upper East Side called Sant Ambroeus. Clover had recommended it to me earlier that morning, thinking that we would be sure to enjoy it. Valentine was walking across the park to meet me, and so I got there before her and had a chance to take it all in. You know something? I kind of like eating in restaurants alone. There is such opportunity for observation then. When you’re with someone else, you don’t notice things the same way.
Clover had recommended Sant Ambroeus because it’s Italian, Milanese to be exact, and very old. It seems like everywhere Clover recommends is old but has style. Sant Ambroeus definitely does. The pastries are in shining cases and there are crystal chandeliers. The waiters wear pink shirts and black pants and all seem to be just incredibly handsome. One young man filling water glasses looked a bit like a piece of ancient sculpture.
Oh, when I go to college the first thing I want to do is take Italian! Aunt Theo and Clover speak it from going abroad so much. I don’t think it will be too, too hard for me to pick up since I’m fluent in French already. Here were some of the beautiful-sounding words on the menu: Asparagi Freddi, Polipo al Profumo de Limone, Vitello Tonnato …
“Franny, what are you doing, talking to yourself?”
I looked up and saw Val. Her black leotard was sliding off her shoulders and her twist was coming undone. If she hadn’t been so gorgeous, I would have felt embarrassed to be seen with her in the dining room of Sant Ambroeus.