When the parental Beegans joined them at dinner, Charlotte abruptly got up from the table, claiming she had promised to sit with her old swimming coach. That meant Barbara seated herself next to Scot, where her conversation grew seemingly more and more random, though Evelyn knew precisely what Barbara’s aim was as she brought up tennis to see if Scot played, then talked about great Baltimore families that Scot couldn’t have known, then asked where he prepped. When he said he had gone to high school in Arizona, Barbara inquired if it was a public school, and when he gave an affirmative, she asked if it was on an Indian reservation.
Evelyn was eager for the break when the speaker, an alumnus who was now ambassador to China, spoke. She drifted away during the boring thrum of his speech, but snapped back during the question-and-answer session when she saw Scot’s hand raised high. Her mother inclined her head, and Evelyn put one hand on his knee. “It’s not really that sort of an event,” she whispered with a light smile.
“They just asked for questions.”
“I know, but people don’t really ask questions at these dinners,” she said.
“I think it’s fine to ask questions,” Dale, sitting on Evelyn’s other side, said loudly. “Fire away. Good to hold people in power responsible.”
From across the room, an old alumnus croaked out a question about the Yangtze cruise accommodations, and Scot gave Evelyn a quizzical look, raising his hand higher.
“Yes,” Scot said when someone brought the microphone to him. “I was curious about whether there’s any movement on the notion that President Bush should pressure Hu Jintao on the artificially low value of the yuan, and how you’re thinking about the effect of that on American manufacturing versus the effect a freely traded yuan could have on U.S. interest rates.”
Preston, sitting across the table, made spirit fingers at Evelyn, Barbara gripped her napkin, and Dale grinned, entertained. The ambassador answered the question, and Scot then indicated he wanted the microphone back, but Evelyn waved off the microphone holder. “That’s good, Scot. That’s enough,” Evelyn whispered.
“I thought—”
“That’s good,” she said, with an eye on her mother’s knuckles.
“I like his spunk,” Dale said.
As they got up from their seats, Barbara clutched Evelyn’s shoulder. “This is a Sheffield alumni event, not a news conference,” Barbara hissed. “I presume the ambassador thought he was speaking to friends, not interrogators.”
Evelyn rearranged her napkin on the table. “Well!” she said to the napkin. “Should we get going?”
“So. He’s from Nevada,” Barbara said, as she steered Evelyn toward the coat check.
“Arizona.”
“His family is still in Arizona?”
“His mother is.”
“A widow?”
“No, she’s divorced.”
“Divorced.” Barbara pursed her lips. “I’ll tell you something, Evelyn. The Topfer women may not have been happy, but we have never resorted to divorce.”
This was true; even after Barbara’s father had fled with the secretary, Barbara’s mother, who spent most of her time smoking cigarettes and cutting coupons, never filed for divorce. Evelyn pulled two singles from her wallet for the coat-check girl.
“I told you to start wearing suntan lotion on your hands,” Barbara said. “You have to be careful about wrinkles. The hands are the first to go, Evelyn. The hands and the knees. Have you been wearing suntan lotion on your knees?”
“I don’t know.”
“They’re a dead giveaway for age. You’re already almost twenty-seven. Is this really the best way to be spending your time? With this Arizonian?”
“Twenty-six. Most people my age aren’t married.”
“A lot are. Palling about with an Arizona boy is fine when you’re just out of college, but at this age—”
“Mom, he’s, like, he’s really smart. Charlotte says he’s one of the smartest people at Morgan Stanley. He was recruited there by David Greenbaum, who’s a hotshot, and he’s one of the youngest VPs there, which is a position even higher than Nick has. It’s not like he’s a subway musician.”
“I’m sure he’s perfectly qualified for his work. I thought your website job would take you into new circles, however. Lead you to meet new people.”
“It has.”
“It’s just with the investigation—” Barbara guided Evelyn to the end of the hallway, where no one was listening.
“Everyone’s father is getting investigated these days,” Evelyn said. She had been trying to convince herself of this ever since Camilla had said it, and the mantra sometimes helped tamp down her anxiety about the investigation, but it rang false when she said it aloud.
“Oh, are they?” Barbara’s tone was sarcastic. “How nice to know New York has become so accepting. In Bibville, they do care, as it happens.” Barbara extracted a mauve lipstick from her bag and applied it precisely. “To tell you the truth, all of my friends at the Eastern have been asking me about you, and saying they just don’t know why someone hasn’t snapped you up yet. Because deep down, people think something is wrong with you when you aren’t married or engaged at twenty-seven. It starts to be strange.”