I mean, if Val can lie about being a ballerina, I think I can lie about a little thing like not being a tourist. Anyway, what was it Aunt Theo had said? The idea when you traveled was to find a café and pretend that you lived there?
As if the man was reading my mind, he asked, “Are you a French movie star?”
I thought it was better to ignore this comment. Val, for one, would have made a big deal about it. Instead I asked him: “Even though I’m not a tourist, I still want to know—what do you think is the best thing on the menu? I mean”—I thought of the word Clover often used—“what is the most classic thing on the menu?”
“Easy,” he said. “The oyster pan roast.”
“Okay, I’d like one of those, please.”
“You got it.”
I sat back and drank my seltzer and spied on Clover and Digby, who were sitting at a romantic corner table. It was so frustrating, because I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I did notice this: they didn’t order the pan roast. They were eating just plain raw oysters. After a time, their table was heaped with shells. And I saw them polish off a whole bottle of white wine. To think, I didn’t know that anyone even drank at lunch anymore! Mom and Dad never do. They have one glass of wine each, at dinner.
Then—blame it on the wine?—Digby folded his hand over Clover’s. Very close, I noticed. And I imagined the warmth of it flooding over hers.
My oyster pan roast arrived, and oh my God did it smell delicious. It came in this big soup bowl with a piece of toast and on top of the toast there were all of these creamy oysters. I was so happy while I was eating it I almost forgot about spying on Clover and Digby, and that’s how it happened. I mean that’s how they saw me, when they were finally leaving the restaurant.
“Franny!” I heard Clover exclaim. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Now that was annoying, because I’d been planning on using that phrase in case I got caught, so I just said: “Oh, hello…”
“Franny,” said Clover, “this is an old friend of mine, Digby Mansfield. In town from Rome. Digby, this is Franny Lord. I told you about Franny, remember. She and her sister, Valentine, are here from San Francisco.”
“San Francisco,” said Digby in a wondering, actually kind of hopeless tone, “San Francisco.” And I wondered if he was like Aunt Theo and didn’t “do” the West Coast. He didn’t look like any man on the West Coast I’d ever seen. “But to see you sitting at the Oyster Bar, anyone would take you for a native.”
See, that’s what I meant by Digby having easy charm. I couldn’t tell if he meant it, but he sure made it sound like he did.
Then, as if something had caught his attention, he asked me in this kind of sharp tone of voice, “Are you the one who was born in Paris?”
Why did everyone mistake me for French today? It must have been a really good haircut.
“No,” I said, blushing, for Digby’s eye contact was very intense. “Oh, no, that was my sister, Valentine. I was born in San Francisco.”
“San Francisco again!” exclaimed Digby. “You mustn’t be proud of it, you people. To me it’s a very dull town.”
“I wasn’t—”
I don’t think that Digby was being mean or anything, but I had noticed that the friends I’ve met of Aunt Theo’s all have one thing in common, and that is that they’re very, very opinionated. Oh, well. I guessed this was good training for when I finally met her in person, since obviously she was going to be opinionated too.
“Digby,” said Clover firmly, “leave Franny alone. Franny is a dear. Franny is my favorite,” she added, leaving no doubt that she preferred me over Valentine. There was an awkward silence among the three of us, and then Clover took care of it, turning to Digby and saying, “Well, I guess I should be walking you out. Franny, you stay here, why don’t you?”
Now that I’d been caught, there was just no way I could spy, so I had no idea what was going on when Clover walked him out of the restaurant. It seemed to me like she was gone forever.
When she came back, she had her green sunglasses back on. But when she sat down next to me at the counter, she took them off, and there were tears sparkling on her lashes.
“Oh, Franny!” she said, and laughed, a laugh that was wistful and wild all at once. “Oh, Franny, fancy running into you here, indeed. You know—I think you just saved me from a grave misfortune.” She rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes, I think so actually. Before we ran into you, I’d actually told Digby I would go back to his club with him. Too much wine, and all that!”