Eve pointed a finger at Wallace in agreement.
-In the Keys, she explained, there was an island a mile off the coast and Tinker would swim there and back twice a day.
-He was a . . . fish.
-That's nothing, Bucky said. One summer he swam across the Narragansett Bay.
The starlike blushes on Tinker's cheeks grew a shade redder.
-It's only a few miles, he said. It's not hard if you time the tides right.
-How about you, Katey, Bucky asked, taking another stab at it. Do you enjoy a good swim?
-I don't know how.
Everyone sat up in their seats.
-What's that?!
-You don't know how to swim?
-Not a stroke.
-Then what?
-I sink, I suppose. Like most things.
-Did you grow up in Kansas? asked Wyss without irony.
-I grew up in Brighton Beach.
More excitement.
-Splendid, said Bucky, as if I'd climbed the Matterhorn.
-Don't you want to learn? asked Wyss.
-I don't know how to shoot either. Between the two, I'd rather learn to shoot.
Laughter.
-Well that's well within your grasp, Bucky encouraged. There's really nothing to it.
-Obviously, I know how to pull a trigger, I said. What I want to learn is how to hit a bull's-eye.
-I'll teach you, said Bucky.
-No, said Tinker looking more at ease with the shift of attention. Wallace is your man.
Wallace had been drawing a circle on the linen with the tip of his dessert spoon.
-Is that right, Wallace?
-. . . Hardly.
-I've seen him shoot the center of a target at a hundred yards, Tinker said.
I raised my eyebrows.
-True or false?
-True, he said shyly. But to be fair, a . . . bull's-eye doesn't move.
When the bowls were cleared, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. A nice burgundy had been served with the soup and my head was beginning to turn on its spindle. There was a little washroom near the living room, but thumbing my nose at etiquette, I went down the hall to the master bath. From a quick look around the bedroom I could see that Eve was no longer sleeping alone.
I peed and flushed. Then, as I was standing at the sink washing my hands, Eve appeared. She winked at me in the mirror. She hoisted up her dress and sat on the toilet, just like old times. It made me regret having wanted to snoop.
-So, she said coyly, what do you think about Wallace?
-He seems grade A.
-And then some.
She flushed and pulled up her hose. She came over and took my place at the sink. There was a small ceramic cigarette box on the vanity. I lit one and sat on the john to smoke. I watched as she washed her hands. From where I was sitting you could see her scar. It still looked red and a little inflamed. But it wasn't getting much in her way anymore.
-Those are some earrings, I said.
She appreciated herself in the mirror.
-Aren't they, though.
-Tinker's treating you right.
She lit her own cigarette and tossed the match over her shoulder. Then she leaned against the wall, took a drag and smiled.
-He didn't give them to me.
-Then who?
-I found them in the bedside table.
-Gadzooks.
She took a drag and nodded with her eyebrows raised.
-Those have got to be worth over ten thousand dollars, I said.
-And then some.
-What were they doing there?
-No good to anyone.
I spread my legs and dropped my cigarette in the bowl.
-But here's the best part, she said. I've worn them every day since we got back from Palm Beach and he hasn't uttered the peep of a sheep.
I laughed. It was a great old Evey-sort-of-thing to say.
-Well, I guess they're yours now.
She tamped out her cigarette in the basin of her sink.
-You better believe it, Sis.
Two more bottles of burgundy were poured with the main course. They may as well have been poured over our heads. I don't think anyone tasted the tenderloin, or the lamb, or whatever it was.
Bucky, good and drunk, launched into a yarn for my benefit about how the five of them had gone to a casino in Tampa-Saint Pete. After they'd spent fifteen minutes around a roulette table, it became pretty clear that none of the boys intended to place a bet. (Presumably, they were afraid to lose the money that wasn't theirs in the first place.) So to teach them a lesson, Eve borrowed a hundred dollars from each and scattered chips across even, black, and her birthday. When nine red came up, she paid back the principal right there on the spot and stuffed the winnings in her brassiere.
When it comes to gambling, some feel nauseated when they win and others feel nauseated when they lose. Eve had a good stomach for both.
-Bucky dear, his wife warned, you're slurring your words.
-Slurring is the cursive of speech, I observed.
-Eckshactly, he said, elbowing me in the ribs.
Coffee in the living room was announced just in time.
Keeping an earlier promise, Eve took Wisteria on a tour of the apartment while Bucky cornered Wallace to secure a hunting invitation for the fall. So Tinker and I ended up in the living room alone. He sat down on one of the couches and I sat beside him. He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. He looked back at the dining room as if he was hoping that a seventh guest would miraculously appear. He took his lighter from his pocket. He snapped the lid open and shut and then put it away again.
-It's good of you to come, he said at last.
-It's a dinner party, Tinker. Not a crisis.
-She looks better. Doesn't she?
-She looks great. I told you she'd be fine.
He smiled and nodded. Then he looked me in the eye, maybe for the first time all evening.
-The thing of it is, Katey-Eve and I are sort of making a go of it.
-I know, Tinker.
-I don't think we really set out- -I think it's great.
-Really?
-Absolutely.
A neutral observer would probably have raised an eyebrow at my answer. There wasn't much jingle in my delivery, and one-word responses just have that way of not sounding very convincing. But the thing of it is, I meant it. Every one word of it.
For starters, you could hardly blame them. Balmy breezes, turquoise seas, Caribbean rum, these are well-established aphrodisiacs. But so too are proximity and necessity and the threat of despair. If, as was painfully apparent in March, Tinker and Eve had both lost something essential of themselves in that car crash, in Florida they had helped each other gain a bit of it back.
One of Newton's laws of physics is something about how bodies in motion will hew to their trajectory unless they meet an external force. I suppose, given the nature of the world, it was perfectly likely that some such force could present itself to set Tinker and Eve off their current course; but there was no way it was going to be me.
Bucky came stumbling into the room and collapsed in a chair. Even I was relieved to see him. Tinker took the opportunity to go over to the bar. When he came back with drinks that no one needed, he took a seat on the other couch. Bucky took a grateful swig and then vaulted back into the topic of railroad shares.
-So, you think it's in the realm, Tink? That we could get a piece of this Ashville Rail business.
-I don't see why not, Tink conceded. If it's the right thing for your clients.
-How about I come down to Forty Wall and we hash it out over lunch?
-Sure.
-This week?
-Oh, leave him alone, Bucky.
Wisteria had just come back with Eve.
-Don't be such a boor, she said.
-Come on, Wyss. He doesn't mind mixing a little business with pleasure. Do you, Tink?
-Of course not, said Tink politely.
-You see? Besides. He's got the whole concession. The world has no choice but to beat a path to his door.
Wyss glowered.
-Evelyn, Wallace interrupted adeptly, dinner was . . . delicious.
-Hear hear, was the chorus.
For the next few minutes, there was a thorough rehashing of the courses (That meat was delicious. The sauce was perfect. And ooh that chocolate mousse.) This was a social nicety that seemed more prevalent the higher you climbed the social ladder and the less your hostess cooked. Eve accepted the compliments with appropriate panache and a dismissive wave of the hand.
When the clock struck one we were all in the foyer. Eve and Tinker had their fingers intertwined, as much to shore each other up as to show affection.
-Lovely evening.
-Terrific time.
-Must do it again.
Even Wyss was encouraging an encore, God knows why.