Read Online Tiny Little Thing by Beatriz Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Beatriz Williams
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hyacinths arranged at even intervals down the center of the tablecloth.
“It’s brilliant!” says Pepper. She floats to her seat. The breeze is picking up, rustling her hair.
“Oh, I’m sure the bugs are delighted.” Granny Hardcastle drops into the chair at Frank’s left and casts me a look.
I turn to Mrs. Crane. “See if Fred can dig out the tiki torches from the pool house, please.” Fred’s the groundskeeper. “I think they’re on the right-hand side, near the spare umbrellas.”
Mrs. Crane is always happy to score a point against Granny. “Right away, Mrs. Hardcastle. Shall I tell the girls to start serving?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Mrs. Crane.”
The maids start serving, and Frank pours the wine. I take my seat at the opposite end, and Cap, waiting for this signal with the other men, lowers himself into the chair at Frank’s right with only the slightest stiffness. Pepper has somehow negotiated the seat to Caspian’s right, directly across from Frank’s father, and before long the torches are lit, the bugs have scattered, the empty wine bottles are piling up at the corner of the terrace, and Pepper and Caspian have struck up the kind of rapport of which dinner party legends are made.
Well, why shouldn’t they? They’re both unattached. Both attractive and red-blooded. Bachelor and fashionable Single Girl.
“How long is your sister planning to stay?” asks Constance, from two seats down on my left.
I plunge my spoon into the vichyssoise. “Why, I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be lovely if she stayed all summer?”
Constance turns a little pale.
“Sadly, however, she works as an assistant to a certain senator in Washington, and I’m afraid he can’t do without her for long.” I lean forward, as if in conspiracy. “Though I suppose that possibly qualifies as aiding and comforting the enemy, doesn’t it?”
From the other side of the house comes the sound of raucous laughter. The younger Hardcastles are eating dinner by the pool, under the supervision of a pair of gossiping nannies, and the teenagers have quite possibly found the stash of beers and liquors in the pool house bar. I motion to Mrs. Crane. “Could you ask Fred to keep watch over the young ones at the pool? Perhaps lock up the pool house?”
She nods and disappears.
Through the soup course and the appetizer, the scene is one of convivial amity, ripe with wholesome feeling, perfumed with hyacinth, lubricated by a crisp white wine and the warm undercurrents of a family welcoming home its prodigal son. The breeze surges in from the Atlantic, soft with humidity. The tomato aspic is a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity, the shrimp firm and white pink. To my right, Frank’s handsome younger brother Louis keeps up a stream of earthy conversation. To my left, Pepper’s laughter rises to the pale evening sky. Nearby, Constance’s diamonds glitter atop her leathery collarbone, having caught the light from a nearby torch.
I look at her and think,
pagina.
The shrimp and aspic are cleared away. The bottles of red wine are placed, already open, on the table. I signal to Louis at my right, and Louis signals to Frank’s cousin Monty, across the table, and together they pour out the wine, one by one, filling every glass.
When they’re done, Frank rises to his feet, clinks his glass with his fork, and smiles at me down the long reach of the Hardcastle table.
“Ladies. Gentleman. In-laws.” He grins at Pepper. “Outlaws.”
“Hear, hear,” says Louis.
“First of all, I’d like to thank my lovely wife, Tiny, for arranging this wonderful dinner here tonight, this dinner that brings us all together, decently clothed for once. Tiny?” He picks up his glass and gestures in my direction.
I pick up my glass and gesture back.
“Hear, hear,” says Pepper. “To the miraculous Tiny!”
The chorus of agreement. The crystalline clinking. The works.
“And now, for the real business of the evening. Not quite two years
“It’s brilliant!” says Pepper. She floats to her seat. The breeze is picking up, rustling her hair.
“Oh, I’m sure the bugs are delighted.” Granny Hardcastle drops into the chair at Frank’s left and casts me a look.
I turn to Mrs. Crane. “See if Fred can dig out the tiki torches from the pool house, please.” Fred’s the groundskeeper. “I think they’re on the right-hand side, near the spare umbrellas.”
Mrs. Crane is always happy to score a point against Granny. “Right away, Mrs. Hardcastle. Shall I tell the girls to start serving?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Mrs. Crane.”
The maids start serving, and Frank pours the wine. I take my seat at the opposite end, and Cap, waiting for this signal with the other men, lowers himself into the chair at Frank’s right with only the slightest stiffness. Pepper has somehow negotiated the seat to Caspian’s right, directly across from Frank’s father, and before long the torches are lit, the bugs have scattered, the empty wine bottles are piling up at the corner of the terrace, and Pepper and Caspian have struck up the kind of rapport of which dinner party legends are made.
Well, why shouldn’t they? They’re both unattached. Both attractive and red-blooded. Bachelor and fashionable Single Girl.
“How long is your sister planning to stay?” asks Constance, from two seats down on my left.
I plunge my spoon into the vichyssoise. “Why, I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be lovely if she stayed all summer?”
Constance turns a little pale.
“Sadly, however, she works as an assistant to a certain senator in Washington, and I’m afraid he can’t do without her for long.” I lean forward, as if in conspiracy. “Though I suppose that possibly qualifies as aiding and comforting the enemy, doesn’t it?”
From the other side of the house comes the sound of raucous laughter. The younger Hardcastles are eating dinner by the pool, under the supervision of a pair of gossiping nannies, and the teenagers have quite possibly found the stash of beers and liquors in the pool house bar. I motion to Mrs. Crane. “Could you ask Fred to keep watch over the young ones at the pool? Perhaps lock up the pool house?”
She nods and disappears.
Through the soup course and the appetizer, the scene is one of convivial amity, ripe with wholesome feeling, perfumed with hyacinth, lubricated by a crisp white wine and the warm undercurrents of a family welcoming home its prodigal son. The breeze surges in from the Atlantic, soft with humidity. The tomato aspic is a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity, the shrimp firm and white pink. To my right, Frank’s handsome younger brother Louis keeps up a stream of earthy conversation. To my left, Pepper’s laughter rises to the pale evening sky. Nearby, Constance’s diamonds glitter atop her leathery collarbone, having caught the light from a nearby torch.
I look at her and think,
pagina.
The shrimp and aspic are cleared away. The bottles of red wine are placed, already open, on the table. I signal to Louis at my right, and Louis signals to Frank’s cousin Monty, across the table, and together they pour out the wine, one by one, filling every glass.
When they’re done, Frank rises to his feet, clinks his glass with his fork, and smiles at me down the long reach of the Hardcastle table.
“Ladies. Gentleman. In-laws.” He grins at Pepper. “Outlaws.”
“Hear, hear,” says Louis.
“First of all, I’d like to thank my lovely wife, Tiny, for arranging this wonderful dinner here tonight, this dinner that brings us all together, decently clothed for once. Tiny?” He picks up his glass and gestures in my direction.
I pick up my glass and gesture back.
“Hear, hear,” says Pepper. “To the miraculous Tiny!”
The chorus of agreement. The crystalline clinking. The works.
“And now, for the real business of the evening. Not quite two years
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