“Same here.” Minnie pointed to herself.
“I asked Adolfo—actually, I asked him to make three different versions, just in case,” Babe admitted, lowering her eyes modestly. “I provided him with some paste versions of my jewels, and he made up three different designs, and then I picked the one I liked best, and he added the real stones.”
“Oh, Babe!” Minnie was so open in her admiration, her thin face glowed. “Oh, that’s just like you, darling!”
“Yes, that was very smart of you,” Betsey admitted through gritted teeth.
“You know me.” Babe shrugged, even as she was enjoying Betsey’s obvious jealousy. “I don’t like to leave much to chance. Mama taught me that, anyway.” There was a lull while the waiter rolled a trolley up to their table filled with delicate sandwiches the size of silver dollars, luscious sugared cookies, and iced cakes. Each sister smiled in approval, allowed her tea to be poured in her cup, but when the waiter was gone, not one sandwich, cookie, or cake was selected. The onion argument had been moot, after all.
“What about Truman?” Betsey asked, moving the agenda along. “Are we certain he’s done everything right? Babe?”
Babe stirred her tea slowly. “This is Truman’s party, Betsey, dear. Not ours. I do think you might have forgotten that.”
“Yes, yes, but, well—Truman! He didn’t have the upbringing we did. And he’s relied on us, all three of us, so much in matters of taste. That new apartment, for instance—you and Minnie practically decorated it for him, didn’t you?”
“We did advise,” Minnie said, uncrossing then crossing her long legs, clad in silk hosiery, although she wore unbecomingly flat, rather plain shoes, something Betsey never did approve of. Even if Minnie was self-conscious about her height, couldn’t she at least wear something stylish, like Babe? “It was quite fun, wasn’t it, Babe, darling? But I do wonder at all the rattlesnakes he chose—so many stuffed specimens. Too much like the Museum of Natural History.” Minnie shuddered.
“I would say that’s an apt metaphor.” Betsey pursed her lips.
“What do you mean by that?” Babe shot back.
“Babe, dear, I simply mean that little Truman has a bit of a sting to him, don’t you think? Somewhat of a barbed way of looking at the world. Heaven knows he’s been divine to you, to all of us. But he’s not always that way to others. This whole party, really—I can’t help but think that he could have managed it better. Without quite so much publicity. Why, the Herald leaked the guest list. Leaked? How? Who gave it to them? And now everyone who wasn’t invited can’t claim that they were and turned it down. The world knows who was invited and, more important, who was not. That’s rather—bourgeois, don’t you think?”
“Truman has a secretary, who sent the invitations out,” Babe said primly. “He wasn’t the only one with access to it.”
“Babe, dear, your loyalty, as always, is touching.” Betsey’s lips curled up. “Let’s hope tomorrow night isn’t a disaster, because of course, people will assume we all had something to do with it, even if we didn’t. Especially you, Babe, as close as the two of you are.”
“I don’t think we have to worry. He’ll pull it off brilliantly, I know.” Babe felt her cheeks flush, heard her voice rising ever so little, and so she sipped some tea and smoothed the skirt of her Chanel day suit. “I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing, Betsey, dear.” Babe smiled serenely at her older sister. “I know you described it to me, but I can’t wait to see you in person. Is Jock wearing a mask? I can’t get Bill to wear one!”
“No, Jock won’t, either.”
“Jim is!” Minnie beamed. “He’s spent weeks designing it himself!”
“Naturally,” Betsey murmured with a significant look at Babe. “I’m not at all surprised, dear, to hear that.”
“What do you think Gogs would say about the party?” Minnie mused. She had been her mother’s “problem” daughter; the two had clashed often in private, although in public Minnie generally conformed to her mother’s ideals. Betsey was so exactly like her mother that they had always been in agreement. Babe was too insecure ever to question her mother’s decrees, except for when she married Bill—that had been quite the time! Minnie grinned, remembering her mother’s utter disbelief that Babe, of all her daughters, would marry a Jew! “I often wonder how Mama’d feel about Truman,” Minnie wondered.
“I hope she’d like him as much as we do,” Babe said quietly.