“Can you? I wouldn’t know it. Tell me, Evelyn, because Camilla certainly won’t, is she bringing anyone to the ball? A date, I mean?”
“She was thinking of bringing Nick Geary, just as a friend, though. I think Camilla’s happy being on her own right now, to be honest. It’s not for lack of interest on the men’s part.”
“Oh, I know, I know. Shouldn’t she be dating, though? I don’t know. I don’t understand how the young people do it these days. Everyone’s so busy. Like Jaime de Cardenas, do you know him?”
Evelyn sat up. “We’ve met once or twice. He seems like a terrific fellow.”
“He is. And a marvelous shot.”
“Game?”
“Ducks, primarily. It’s really something. He comes up to Sachem when he can, and it’s fun for everyone. Though it’s been ages. Young people these days. Everyone’s overtaxed. I meant to tell you, Camilla’s so glad to have your father as her guest at the Luminaries dinner.”
The Luminaries dinner, with its $25,000 price tag, which Evelyn hoped Camilla had forgotten about. She was about to equivocate when she realized that if Souse was glad to have her father attend the dinner, Camilla must not have told Souse about the grand jury investigation, and that really didn’t matter, not as long as everyone believed in Evelyn’s august lineage.
“My father is just thrilled to be going,” Evelyn said.
“His gift is quite generous. Truly. Oh, dear, Push is flapping her wings at me. I still haven’t found silent auction items and must go atone. I’m glad we got to talk. Why hadn’t we met before?”
The implied meaning that Evelyn was in, or near to, Souse’s circle made a tingle run up Evelyn’s neck, even if she was getting into a deeper hole with her stories. “Oh, I’d been busy with work and just got to know Camilla better. This event has been delightful. It’s always a hoot to revisit deb days.”
“It is, you’re right. Keeps us young. Or keeps me young. You, you don’t have to worry about that, do you?” Souse flitted off, and Evelyn, who did feel young in this crowd, wandered over to the platters of food, quiche, tabbouleh, and raspberry-lemon tartlets. Evelyn filled a small plate and tried to subtly suck out the tabbouleh’s parsley from her teeth as she listened to the women talk. “Ani is in early to Princeton, but Michael only to Oberlin…” “I have known several people who have gone to Oberlin, and they came out just fine…” “We bought near Stockbridge…” “Chicken is all people seem to eat or serve anymore…” “The touring choir auditions…” “Americans ask always about Marie Antoinette and think it’s interesting that we beheaded a queen.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Selection of Jamón
Evelyn watched her father through the glass of Bar Jamón. He was ringing with energy, pointing at one ham hock after another and then throwing his arms up into the air as he laughed at whatever he was saying. With no indictment yet, he and Leiberg Channing thought it would be best for everyone to proceed as normal. He was in New York for a settlement meeting and it must have gone well: his khakis were practically ballooning with pride.
He was standing at the marble bar, and the counter guy was waiting for him to order, but Dale was too busy delivering his monologue about the ham hanging overhead. Evelyn had selected their meeting spot, Bar Jamón, from Zagat, which said it was “Iberian chic” with an “insider’s vibe”; it was close to where his meeting had been. She hoped it would be quiet, as her father got distracted so easily, and she needed to ask him for money. The last time she’d attempted this, in Bibville, news of the indictment had knocked her off track.
“Dad,” she said upon entering.
Dale turned and grinned. “I’m just looking at all this food. Now, we have ham where I’m from, but it’s not ham that looks quite like this!” He examined the droopy-eyed counter guy, and Evelyn could tell he was looking for the jury-box response, the twitch of a smile and the slight creasing around the eye that indicated Dale had him, but it wasn’t there yet. “So. What about ham, son?” Dale chuckled.
The young man lifted his heavy eyes and mumbled, “Jamón serrano, jamón ibérico de bellota, jamón ibérico de cebo,” pointing at the hocks of cured pig.
“No good old Virginia ham?” Dale asked.
The man looked devastated. “No.”
Dale laughed again, so heartily it practically bounced off the walls. “Well, Evie, your tastes certainly are getting sophisticated. Now, my good man, can I just have a plain black coffee?”
The counter guy set about making an Americano with grief-stricken movements as Evelyn and Dale sat down at one of the high tables, a candle flickering between them though it was light outside.
“Well, New York is not the town for me, but in the fall it’s not too bad,” Dale said.
“Autumn in New York,” Evelyn half sang.
“What’s that?” He signaled the man to bring over the coffee.