“Doesn’t count. I was never part of their family. I’m an orphan, remember?”
“The fetchingest orphan to ever exist. Sorry, Miss Valentine, I’ll have to overrule you. Wharton is a prime choice. She wrote with humor, wit, and warmth. Her characters were always beautiful.”
“I do adore her stories.”
Pru sighed, conceding that perhaps the reason she loved Wharton was because she wanted to live in the worlds she created, which happened to look a lot like Charlie’s.
“‘Set wide the window,’” Pru quoted. “‘Let me drink the day.’”
“‘If only we’d stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.’”
“That sounds more like Mrs. Spencer than it does me,” she said. “I’m closer to Henry James. His protagonists are often young American women enduring oppression and abuse.”
“Somehow I don’t like where this is headed.”
“Oppression.” She pointed directly at him. “And abuse. All wrapped up in one writerly package.”
“Ah!” he said, laughing now. “So I’m the antagonist in this story. Domineering you with my tyranny!”
“Yes. Exactly. And as for you, Evelyn Waugh is the clear choice. His novels center on the rise of mediocrity in the common man.”
“There’s nothing on the rise about my mediocrity.”
Bump. Bump. Thump. Stomp.
“What in the world?” she said.
Thump. Stomp.
Together Win and Pru wrenched their heads toward the door. They’d been too loud, too aggressively spirited in their repartee. There was no telling how Mrs. Spencer would react, catching the two of them in her sanctuary, in the hidden den of books.
“We’re in the shit now,” Win murmured.
At once, the Duchess of Marlborough burst through the door, the purple silk gown wafting out behind her like a sail on a ship. In her hands she held a radio.
“Mrs. Spencer, let me explain,” Win said, speaking fast. “We stumbled upon your impressive library—”
“Shush!” she yipped, scrambling about for an outlet. “I knew you two were prowling around in here. Someone moved my Bennetts.”
She fiddled with the radio knob. Pru winced at the shrill of the static.
“Well, we’re glad you’ve joined us,” Win babbled on. “Not to worry, nothing dodgy happening here. We’re having no fun a’tall without your observations and clever bon mots.”
“Enough!” Mrs. Spencer said. She looked up. The muscles in her neck twitched. “Listen, you fool. Something is happening.”
“What do you mean ‘happening’?”
She turned to face Pru.
“This war of yours. I think it’s about to end.”
Fifty-six
RADIO BROADCAST
If you’re just joining us, today at the Majestic Hotel in Paris, the governments of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, the Republic of Vietnam, and the United States signed an agreement to end the Vietnam War.
Beginning on twenty-eight January a cease-fire will go into effect. North and South Vietnamese forces are to hold their locations and American troops will withdraw within the ensuing sixty days.
Prisoners of war on all sides will be released and allowed to return home. The parties to the agreement will assist in repatriating the remains of the dead. Reunification of Vietnam will be carried out step-by-step through peaceful means. And now, a word from the president of the United States, Mr. Richard Nixon.
“At 12:30 Paris time today Tuesday, January 23, 1973, the Agreement on Ending the War and Restoring Peace in Vietnam was initialed by Dr. Henry Kissinger on behalf of the United States, and Special Adviser Le Duc Tho on behalf of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam.
“The agreement will be formally signed by the parties participating in the Paris Conference on Vietnam on January 27, 1973, at the International Conference Center in Paris.
“The cease-fire will take effect at 2400 Greenwich Mean Time, January 27, 1973. The United States and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam express the hope that this agreement will ensure stable peace in Vietnam and contribute to the preservation of lasting peace in Indochina and Southeast Asia.”
Fifty-seven
GD: During the war, I remained in Paris.
WS: It must’ve been a time of great challenge.
GD: You’re telling me! You couldn’t get a cab at all to come to that quarter.
WS: I was referring to the general living conditions. The men off to war. The women home and nervous. Rationing. The lines for food. Not to mention the threat of German occupation.
GD: Oh, Germans. [Snort] And I never had issues with rations. There were plenty of men left in the city happy to share their spoils.
WS: I’ll bet. So you stayed in Paris for the duration? That’s a long time for someone like you to remain in one place.
GD: The first German shells didn’t even hit Paris until March of 1918. I was in the city when it happened. One landed thirty yards before me. My skirt was blown straight over my head!