Once we were done with decorating it, the secret roof-deck looked very pretty, with its terra-cotta pots and little lemon trees. The days were getting shorter now and the light falling on the roof-deck was already a soft pinky-lilac color. Guests were coming at 7:00.
“And when does Aunt Theo get here again?” I asked Clover, wanting to be ready the second she made an entrance. I didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Her plane gets in at eight, so by the time she gets here, the party will be in full swing. She’ll like that! She’s always so interested, at parties, in seeing who is hitting it off with whom, and that kind of thing.”
“Are you talking about romance?” asked Valentine, because this was the important thing in life, obviously.
“That, and friendship too,” said Clover slyly, even though it was romance that Valentine and I were thinking of. We were dressed as if we were expecting it, anyway. Valentine was wearing the long blue-and-green-striped Missoni dress Clover had given her, and not wanting me to feel left out, Clover gave me an old dress of hers to wear too—a long pink cotton one that came from India. I felt all floaty and romantic in it, and to make things even more so I decided to wear my black velvet bow in my hair. Clover had on pink too—pink palazzo pants over a black leotard. That was a word I learned for the first time tonight: palazzo. I think it’s a very striking word.
“But I thought that you said Aunt Theo didn’t like for women to wear trousers,” sniffed Valentine, because unlike me she missed being able to wear blue jeans and was looking forward to putting them on as soon as we got back to San Francisco.
“But these aren’t trousers-trousers,” said Clover grandly. “These are more like hostess pants.”
“Does Aunt Theo have a pair of hostess pants too?” I inquired.
“Oh yes. Hers are black, though.”
The mention of the color black reminded me of something.
“Clover?”
“Yes, Franny?” She was now arranging hard-boiled eggs on an old blue china platter. Once the eggs were arranged, she sprinkled chives over them.
“You know how I’ve always pictured Aunt Theo as looking like…?”
“What?”
I paused to give my words emphasis.
“Like a cross between an angel and a witch.”
“You’ll get to see her tonight soon enough,” said Val, who I knew deep down was not as interested in meeting Aunt Theo in person as I was.
“What witch? What witch are you talking about?”
It was a male voice speaking. Not one I recognized. I looked, and there was this strange man standing behind us on the secret roof-deck. Before any of us could say anything, he and Clover were embracing like old friends.
“Ellery!” I heard Clover exclaiming. “I didn’t hear the buzzer. Were you announced?”
“Oh, please. Oscar remembered me from the old days,” Ellery said.
“You were talking of Theo, I suppose,” said Ellery. “Or, as I like to think of her, Theodora Wentworth Whitin Bell.”
“Oh, thank you for reminding me of that, Ellery,” said Clover, turning to address Valentine and me. “Remember, Aunt Theo is very big on people using last names. When you meet her tonight, do be sure to introduce yourself with your full names. Also, if you happen to remember, say ‘How do you do?’ rather than ‘Nice to meet you.’ Aunt Theo prefers the former.”
“But that sounds all pretentious,” moaned Val. And even I had to agree with her for once, explaining to Clover: “Val’s right. In San Francisco we always say ‘Nice to meet you.’ That’s what Mom and Dad say too.”
“Oh, speaking of San Francisco,” said Ellery. “Do you know what Theo once said to me about the West Coast?”
“No,” we all said.
“She said: ‘What would I want to live on the West Coast for? It is too far from Italy.’ Italy was always the important thing for her.”
“Must have been,” said Valentine. “It sounds like she’s always going on and on about it. Italian this; Italian that…”
“Valentine,” said Clover, but Ellery merely laughed.
“Aha! I see you must be the rebellious sister. There is always one rebellious sister, isn’t there, and one good one? That is, if we are speaking of female archetypes.”
“Well,” said Val, kind of hesitating because I don’t know if she could tell if he was giving her a compliment or not. “I’m the older one, obviously. I’m seventeen.”
“Seventeen! An enchanting age. And, in addition to being rebellious, you are also going to be extraordinarily beautiful.”
Really, this was getting to be too much. And then I heard Clover saying, “Ellery knows what he’s talking about, Valentine. He’s been around lots of famous beauties before. He used to be a gossip columnist.”
“You did?” Valentine sounded suddenly very interested.