“No, Zinnie. I do not, for the last time, think you can. Now can we stop this?”
But several more officious types, curious and bored, had wandered over. They let themselves be bullied into position. This was all to the stern disapproval of the servants, but by now what could they do? The Tunesian vice-consul was having a smashing time in charge of third and one wouldn’t want to upset him. Nor any of them. What a muddle.
Zinnie had one team arranged on one side and Claire, absorbed now, the other. She continually checked over her shoulder to see what Zinnie was doing. Zinnie was, Claire realized, as natural a leader as she had ever met. If she’d have been a man … Claire thought before she caught herself. Why, nowadays, a woman could do anything a man could do. Why was it that even she, who believed this, still had trouble incorporating it into everyday thought? Because it had always been she, in each of her relationships, who’d done the dishes. That’s why. No matter how much money she’d made or hefty chores she’d shared. Christ, it was exhausting. The whole man-woman thing could make you ill. And so resentful. She didn’t want to be resentful. She took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to return to her previous bemused state. There, that was better.
“This,” Zinnie was informing the vice-consul, “is American culture. Just make sure that no one steals your base. See, any player from the other team can come and steal it while you’re not looking.”
“But this is not a just system!” he cried.
“Yeah, but you get to voice that opinion and live.”
“Carry on,” the Turkish ambassador poised his mallet.
Claire noticed that Stefan and Carmela were nowhere to be found. Zinnie distributed her evening bag’s supply of sugar-free chewing gum. It was, she assured them, prerequisite. All sorts of fancy shoes were off, tossed into one raucus and plebian heap. By now there was nobody left on the other side of the house. The game simmered into a businesslike seriousness and time flew by like magic. Suddenly it was the fourth inning, and what a job it had become to see that devious ball coming. One by one the lanterns all around the property went on and Carmela and Stefan emerged from the glamorous front door. Stefan’s face fell. Not Carmela’s. She arranged her expression immediately into the appropriate butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth. Claire’s team was up. The Lebanese official’s wife was at bat. Her teammates cheered her on with slurred directions—they were all experts now. The lady swung and missed. A titter went up from Zinnie’s team. She swung again, this time connecting. The ball raced through several hoops and cracked into the Nigerian fellow’s ankle.
“Yow, yow, yow, yow, yow, yow!” He limped hurriedly in a circle.
Everyone trooped over with inebriated concern.
“Hello, stand back, I’m a doctor,” said a handsome young blond man and they all moved aside. Zinnie lowered the wounded player onto the ground and she and the doctor took control. Claire backed off. Zinnie liked that young doctor, she could tell. She grinned to herself. Now let’s just watch and see if he’s married, she warned Zinnie silently. She found her shoes and walked across the lawn. There was a bench behind the tent where she could sit down and study the house. You seldom saw lead-paned windows like that anymore, or mossy stucco with ivy shooting up each corner. Nowadays the locals aluminum-sided any natural surface they could get their hands on. This was really the sort of place you could get used to. Quickly.
The others were wandering back. The wounded man was not badly hurt; Zinnie and the doc had him propped on a chaise lounge and were administering advice. Claire saw Zinnie throw back her head and laugh. Boy, to laugh like that again! Stefan came over and sat down next to her.
“Hello, troublemaker. I take it it was you who got the servants so upset.”
Claire gave a noncommittal frown. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was going to be advantageous to take the credit. “I hope that man isn’t hurt. He was such an excellent shortstop.”
“I suppose you see yourself as having saved the party,” he remarked, amused.
She felt herself redden.
“You have an interesting family. Your sister Carmela. She’s very knowledgeable about art, isn’t she?”
“Is she?”
“Yes, indeed.” He leaned over and removed a baby grasshopper that’d landed on her arm. She liked the way he did that, with fine feeling, not injuring the little fellow’s legs. They watched him spring away. Stefan, charmed at his own kindness, exhaled a wacky, megalomanic chuckle.
Claire wafted in the hurricane of his cologne. Is there no one right for me? she thought. “You have a beautiful place here,” she said.
“I’m so glad you like it,” he said.