“Here,” I said, handing the taxi driver money for the fare and getting out of the car. “Keep the change.”
Grand Central! Of course. So this was the famous Grand Central Terminal, which Val and I seen in so many movies, pretty much whenever a character gets off a train and they want you to know: Here is New York. Dad’s big on trains and he put Grand Central on the list of architectural monuments we should see while we were here, but somehow we’d never gotten around to it, and this was the first time I’d ever been inside it.
Well, here is New York is exactly what you feel when you stand inside Grand Central. It makes you feel like taking a deep breath and standing up straight. It’s just ravishing. The ceilings are high and this wonderful soft, curved shape and the prettiest blue, kind of like a robin’s egg. And there are even stars painted on the ceiling. Stars.
I was glad that Clover had on a white dress, because between that and her bouncy golden hair she was easy to spot in a crowd. She went and walked toward this enormous old gold clock they have. There were a bunch of people waiting there, but I swear I could tell instantly which one of them was waiting for Clover. It just had to be the tall, distinguished older man—no, gentleman—in the blue seersucker suit.
And it was, it was! She walked up to him, looking marvelous, I have to say, in her tippy-tippy heels and green sunglasses. And then guess what? She took the sunglasses off before she kissed him, just lightly, not a kiss-kiss but kind of a sad, lingering kiss, like the whisper—the memory?—of a kiss. Now I have to admit I don’t know much about kissing, not having ever been kissed yet, myself. But I could tell that there must be so many different kinds of kisses in this world. Like for instance, the minute I saw Clover kiss the man in the blue seersucker suit, I knew that the way Valentine and Julian kissed must have been completely different. It was like it had all of these feelings running underneath it, not on top of it, not happy young people in love emotions, like the way Valentine must kiss Julian …
Clover and Digby talked for a bit, standing there underneath the clock. I made out Digby laughing a couple of times. So that told me something, without even having been introduced to him. He was one of those happy, careless, laughing types of men. He had—a phrase popped into my mind, and I liked it—easy charm. But was easy charm to be trusted?
Then Clover and Digby turned and walked down a kind of tunnel, where the floor started to slope. It looked like they were going someplace very intimate and mysterious.
I waited so they wouldn’t see me, and then I walked down the tunnel too. The tiles on the floor were this elegant chocolate brown and everything felt all cozy and old-fashioned. Then they walked into a restaurant—“The Oyster Bar at Grand Central,” the sign said.
I thought that when I grew up, I’d like to have a romantic lunch at the Oyster Bar myself. It seemed just about perfect. There was this cool ceiling with red bricks that made it so cozy, and it had those red-and-white check tablecloths. And I loved the way it was just tucked inside the train station like this.
Inside the restaurant, Digby pulled out Clover’s chair for her, so that was nice, though I still didn’t quite trust him! They read the menu and ordered drinks. White wine, it looked like, when it came. Well, I guess that made sense, with oysters.
Oh, I wished I knew what they were ordering. I looked at the menu posted on the wall outside the door. Oysters had such interesting names: Blue Point, French Kiss, Sister Point, Wellfleet.
Looking at the menu made me realize that I was actually pretty hungry. Then I saw that the restaurant had a bar, kind of like a lunch counter, where people were eating all by themselves. Some of them looked like they were businessmen, with briefcases. Imagine growing up and working in Manhattan and taking your lunch break at the Oyster Bar, just like it was any old thing.
Clover was sitting with her back to the counter and Digby didn’t know who I was. So why not treat myself to lunch at the counter? And if Clover did see me—well, I’d just pretend it was a coincidence. I’d whip off my sunglasses and say, Fancy meeting you here.
I’m not bragging, but the man at the counter seemed to be kind of fascinated with me. Maybe he’s just not used to seeing young girls dine in restaurants alone, but I was getting to be a pro at it this summer. Once you get the hang of something, it’s amazing how much fun it can be.
I couldn’t get alcohol obviously, so I just got seltzer with lime. I like seltzer because it’s so sparkly you can almost pretend it’s champagne if you want.
The man behind the counter said: “Some sunglasses you’ve got on. I take it you’re not a tourist?”
I hesitated before saying: “No.”