I looked up and saw that it was Clover, walking down the stairs. And I knew at once that it couldn’t have been Val prepping for a date up there—it was Clover herself.
“Oh, Clover,” I exclaimed, “you look absolutely beautiful!”
And she really, really did. You know what had never occurred to me before this summer in New York? That the world isn’t divided into the divinely beautiful women (Valentine, Mom when she was young and looked like Liz Taylor, Aunt Theo) and the rest of us, after all—that all women can be beautiful, as Clover once said to me, after their own fashion.
Today, Clover was standing in a pool of bright sunshine wearing a white cotton dress. Like the dress Val wore to the dinner at the American Academy, it was very simple. But where Val’s dress had left her arms and shoulders bare, Clover’s dress was actually kind of proper and covered up. It had sleeves that hit just above her little gold charm bracelet, showing the pink-golden skin of her wrist. I thought that was just so ladylike. The dress went in at the waist and then out again at the skirt with all of these swishy pleats. It was funny. Even though the dress had sleeves, it looked incredibly cool and summery. The cotton gave the feeling of being almost, but not quite, see-through. Just enough to make you wonder …
A couple of things were different about Clover’s appearance today. For one thing, she had on high heels, which I’d never seen her wear before, except for that time we all got dressed up to go to the Carlyle. And I just had this feeling that women who don’t wear heels regularly don’t bother with them unless something really important is up. I’ve never worn heels yet, but I always think they must just kill your feet!
The other thing I noticed about Clover was her hair. Clover’s hair tends to be—I don’t want to be unkind—untidy. The thing is, her hair isn’t thick like Val’s, it’s fine like a baby’s, so the pieces fly in all these different directions. It’s all right, though; I mean, she’s a sculptress. But today she wore it in a half-twist pulled back from her face, and with the crown all fluffed out on top. It had all this volume.
I think she could tell I was staring at her, so she said with a little laugh, “Oh, my hair. What do you think, Franny? It’s called the Soufflé.”
“Like lemon soufflé?” I asked, remembering.
“Apparently that’s what they call this style,” said Clover, touching her hair. Then: “Oh, no! I’m not supposed to touch it. They told me not to dare touch it or brush it out. To keep the volume, see.”
I decided to be kind of sassy and ask her: “What perfume did you end up getting, Clover?”
I thought I was being so sly, and I couldn’t help but be proud of myself.
“Perfume?”
“Weren’t you looking for a new perfume, didn’t you say?”
“Oh, what a good memory you have, Franny! Why—yes. Do you like it?” She put her wrist out to me, and I sniffed it. “It’s vanilla. Or vaniglia, I should say. Isn’t that a gorgeous word?” She shrugged. “It’s Italian.”
“The word or the perfume?”
“Both.” She laughed. “It’s by Santa Maria Novella. They’re this old apothecary from Florence. A favorite of Theo’s.”
“Did she—Theo—used to wear vaniglia?”
“Why, yes, Franny, she did.”
And then Clover sighed and fished an enormous pair of emerald green sunglasses out of her purse. She put on the sunglasses and said: “Well, Franny, I must be going, see you later.”
As we got in the elevator, I came up with a plan in my head. What if I followed her? I couldn’t help it, I was so curious about this meeting of hers. Besides, I had nothing else to do today, and maybe I could do what Aunt Theo told me and “take notes.”
So. Here’s what happened!
Clover got a taxi in front of the building, and I waited until they drove off and got the next one. Then I actually got to say “Follow that cab,” which was very exciting, just like in the movies. I wanted the taxi driver to be all impressed with me, but you know something? I don’t think he was. He just stepped on the pedal and followed Clover’s taxi up Fifth Avenue I guess New York City taxi drivers are used to seeing just about everything.
Inside the cab, I put on my sunglasses, and they made me feel perfectly invisible. Just the thing for spying on someone!
We passed Fourteenth Street. Was Clover was going all the way uptown? But then eventually her taxi pulled over at the corner of East Forty-Second Street, and she got out. Just what was at East Forty-Second Street? I wondered.
Meanwhile, I watched Clover sail through some very grand-looking doors.