Evelyn let out a tiny exhale. “People Like Us. It’s a site for influencers to connect with one another. I work there, actually. It’s cool. Travel tips, and where to buy certain hard-to-find things. People are able to track down their best friends from summer camp in Switzerland in 1992, that sort of thing. I thought someone posted about the transaction in the real-estate section, but I could be wrong.”
“I haven’t heard of it. The site,” Camilla said. She cocked her head, considering.
“It’s invitation-only for the moment, so it’s quite small. They’re focused on signing up just a few key influencers in each social circle. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to pull a few strings. They’d love for you to weigh in on fashion.”
Camilla took her time before she said, “I also know a lot about the arts.”
“Absolutely. The arts. People would love to read what you have to say.”
“People Like Us, you said?”
“Here.” Evelyn pulled a card from her clutch, happy that she had sprung for the heavy card stock. “I’ll have my staff set up your whole profile. You won’t have to do a thing, except, of course, let people know what your take is on fashion shows. Or, better, art shows.”
When Nick returned with the Dark and Stormy and pulled Camilla away, Evelyn chewed her lip for a moment, then got another gin and tonic, which she drank fast enough to get hiccups. Through the rest of the party, she kept track of where Camilla was as though the girl were a potential beau: talking to a younger blond girl, who must be her sister, Phoebe; hooking arms with Nick.
Later, while a Chubby Checker record played, Evelyn tracked down Preston, who set down his gin-and-something, leapt into the air with the grace of a crane, and offered his hand to Evelyn. As they did their rote prep-school swing dance, she appraised the other dancers on the lawn. They would all go home tonight to imposing houses, and over breakfast tomorrow discuss the evening, remembering the glasses of champagne and gin that caught the twinkling lights, and feel secure in who and where they were. They had been nice to her, that was the surprising thing. She thought they’d be cutting, and they were kind. Welcoming.
Evelyn, spinning as Preston increased the pressure of his hand against her upper back to turn her, saw Scot’s gawky figure outlined before the black Adirondack lake. Preston spun her again so her eyes settled not on Scot but on Camilla, now standing on the sidelines, taking a delicate bite from a radish.
CHAPTER FIVE
A Bottle of T
Wearing two coats unearthed from a Shuh-shuh-gah closet, Evelyn sat vibrating with cold in the motorboat as the Fruit Stripe got under way. Bing was racing with a neighbor boy, despite pleas from Pip to race with her (the neighbor boy weighed less, and thus Bing’s boat would move faster), which left Pip paired with Chrissie. Mrs. Hacking had stopped by Camp Jumping Rock, where the Fruit Stripe reception was being held, to load up on drinks before heading out to the course, and Nick, Scot, Charlotte, and Mr. Hacking had stayed at Jumping Rock to help with sending off the boats.
Evelyn had volunteered to go with Preston and Mrs. Hacking, mostly because Scot, at the party last night, had cornered Evelyn and asked for her phone number and then had been unable to talk to her in the boat back or at breakfast this morning, and Evelyn wanted to avoid more stiff encounters. However, now, stuck with Mrs. Hacking in the motorboat, Evelyn saw the wisdom in remaining on land.