The Wellses hosted a dinner party for a few neighbors that evening. Corinne wasn’t in the mood for high society, but she knew her mother liked to show her off to their friends. Corinne was usually able to fib her way through the awkward conversations, though most of the time she was longing for Ada to be there, playing a song on her violin that would make everyone crave utter silence.
One thing she did enjoy about the parties was that it inevitably meant a new dress. Tonight’s number was already hanging in her closet when she arrived. It was midnight blue with silver trim, with sleeves falling well past her elbows and a skirt falling well past her knees, but the cut was so flattering that Corinne didn’t mind. She paired it with some black shoes and a long silver chain dotted with pearls. Her short haircut had flabbergasted her parents when she’d first arrived with it; but since then her mother had made peace and even on occasion mentioned how well it suited her round face.
When Corinne went downstairs to greet the guests, she had to remind herself with every step to keep the smile plastered on her face, lest her expression give way to a grimace. The house was old enough that it was predominantly stone and wood. Sometime after Corinne had left for school, her mother had gone on a redecorating rampage and replaced all the old fixtures with the latest styles. Thankfully the latest styles all happened to be brass. Corinne didn’t like to think about what stepping inside the house would have been like with its original iron hinges, knobs, and latches. She still had to avoid the kitchen at all costs.
With the guests’ arrival, she could sense the iron alloys in their jewelry and cuff links like an ache niggling at the base of her neck. Apparently not all of her parents’ friends could afford to wear pure gold and silver to cocktail parties. She could handle a little iron, though. It was the small talk that drained her. After twenty minutes of exchanging inane pleasantries, she was exhausted.
She was trying to decide if it would be worth the effort to fake a fainting spell when her mother grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to greet the newest arrivals. The young couple was only a little older than Corinne, arm in arm, with smiles that had probably taken years of practice to look so genuine.
“James, Madeline, we’re so pleased you could make it,” Mrs. Wells said, taking each of their hands in turn. She was flustered from all the preparations, and her complexion was splotched with uneven red. If she’d known about the stain on the silk of her dress, she would have been mortified. Corinne decided not to mention it.
“How could we miss our dearest Corinne’s homecoming?” Madeline asked.
Madeline Gretsky was tall and proportioned like a catalogue model, with dark curls and cherry-red lipstick that somehow didn’t look cheap against her pale face. The Wellses had known Madeline’s family since Corinne was in diapers and Madeline was dressing her up in homemade costumes and reenacting scenes from her favorite fairy tales. Madeline’s husband, James, had come along a few years ago, wooing high society with his charm despite his solidly middle-class upbringing. James was Madeline’s perfect complement, with golden hair, sleepy blue eyes, and a face like poetry. He offered Corinne a languid smile.
“We never see you around the Mythic,” he said.
“I go to school in Pennsylvania, remember?”
“Right, right.” He wrapped his arm around Madeline’s shoulder with lazy ease and kept smiling.
“I’m so sorry that Perry and I haven’t made it down to your little theater yet,” Mrs. Wells said, her hands fluttering uselessly, as if she couldn’t decide what to do with them. “We’re so terribly busy, you know. With the wedding.”
Corinne snorted. Her parents’ refusal to attend a play at the Mythic Theatre had nothing to do with their schedules and everything to do with its less-than-grand premises and reputation for attracting uncouth artistic types.
Madeline’s smile was beatific, making a matching set with her husband’s.
“It’s perfectly all right, Mrs. Wells,” she said. “We understand.”
“Thank you so much for the invitation,” James said.
“Of course,” Mrs. Wells said, waving her hands in a way that Corinne thought resembled a frenetic bird. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I think the maid mixed up the place settings.”
Mrs. Wells glanced toward the dining room in distraction and moved off.
“So wonderful to see you,” Madeline said with a dainty wave. She waited until Mrs. Wells was out of earshot, then smacked Corinne on the shoulder.
“What was that for?” Corinne asked, rubbing her arm reflexively.
“Why didn’t you come to Glass Staircase in November? You promised you would.”
“No I didn’t!”
“You said you would try, at least.”
“I believe my exact words were: I’d rather jump off the Custom House tower.”
“She’s right, Maddy,” James said musingly, resting his chin on top of her dark hair. “Those were her exact words.”
“Oh, hush,” Madeline said. She batted him away. “I’m trying to win an argument here. I was a positively thrilling Lucinda.”
“I don’t know who Lucinda is,” Corinne said. “No one has ever heard of your ghastly plays.”