New Year's Eve (10 page)

There is nothing worse, Beth Rose thought, than your old boyfriend being polite.

Amazingly enough, seeing Gary with Gwynnie did not ruin her night. She could look at him without cringing.

Gary fetched both Gwynnie's shoes. Gwynnie put them back on. Gwynnie's wig had come askew after all; the topknot was leaning like the Tower of Pisa.

“
What happened to her hair?
” Lee asked.

“It's just a wig,” Anne explained. “She might fix it or she might not. Gwynnie doesn't usually do what any other girl would do.”

And then Gwynnie saw Beth Rose. She actually pushed her orange sunglasses down on the bridge of her nose to examine Beth more carefully. She started with the hem of the purple dress. Moved up to the red hair. Tilted way back to look into the bouquet of dinosaurs.

Then she checked out George.

Bumpy head, no cummerbund, dock shoes slapping, shirttail out, and pants slowly slipping.

Gwynnie said something to Gary.

Beth Rose did not have to read lips to know Gwynnie wanted to meet George.

Here's the test, Beth Rose thought.

Anne muttered, “Oh, well, if you start to cry, you can just duck behind tyrannosaurus rex.”

“Do you have any Kleenex?” Beth whispered.

“Do I have any Kleenex? Weeping willow that I am? This is not a purse you see in my hand, Bethie, this is an upholstered Kleenex box. All I ask is that you leave some for me so I can mop up after I see Jade.”

Gwynnie marched toward them. Gary was a little tugboat trying to nudge her in a more appropriate direction, but Gwynnie was not easily nudged. Like a revolving tower of white feathers, Gwynnie circled them twice, whipping her black boa in curls.

“They're not slaves for sale, Gwynnie,” Anne said. “You may not circle a third time.”

Gwynnie paid George the ultimate honor. She took off her sunglasses to see him more clearly. All the while she swung her boa.

“Practicing for a rodeo?” George said, hypnotized. “You going to rope a wild bull or something?”

“Already did,” Gwynnie said, and she wrapped Gary in her black boa. Gary just laughed.

“You!” Gwynnie accused, staring up into George's eyes. “You stopped the elevator on every floor.”

George nodded.

“You wore deck shoes to a formal dance,” Gwynnie accused.

Everybody who had not yet noticed George's feet noticed now.

Beth Rose said, “So far those feet things have been called moccasins, deck shoes, dock shoes, and boat shoes.”

“You,” Gwynnie said, “do not yet know how to tuck in your shirt. You have no cummerbund and no suspenders.”

If George had not been taller than this strange creature, he would have been afraid of her. However, looking down, he could see how the wig was attached, and that the red blood was just a carnation beginning to wilt.

“Furthermore,” Gwynnie said, “your date is carrying dinosaurs instead of flowers.”

There was a difficult pause. Beth blushed. Gary grinned. Kip looked away. Mike moaned.

“I like you,” Gwynnie pronounced. “Would you come to my party afterward? You are interesting. Want to dance with me? What is your name? Or shall I make one up?”

“If you don't mind, Gwynnie,” Beth Rose said, “he'll dance the first dance with his own date.”

“Oh, is he with you?” Gwynnie said innocently.

“No, he's with the dinosaurs.”

Gwynnie pretended to have a heart attack. She fell backward, assuming Gary would catch her as she fell. He really has to be on his toes with her, Beth thought. She has placed more demands on him in half an hour than I did in a whole year. And he likes that!

George was pleased. Maybe being tall wasn't his one and only asset. Maybe he was truly interesting, as Gwynnie claimed—interesting enough for Beth Rose to step in and demand his attention back.

“Yeah,” George said loudly. “With my own date.” He put his arm around Beth. Gary's eyes floated over them, and stayed on her. He said, “You look beautiful, Beth.”

She remembered her violet brocade, shirred and clinging. She knew that Anne was right: she was stunning. And she knew Gwynnie was right: George was interesting.

She met Gary's gaze calmly, and turned away. What a power trip! First to turn away! Better things elsewhere.

George moved a few dinosaurs out of the way and suddenly kissed her. It was just the lightest pass over her lips, and Beth Rose knew instantly it was his first kiss. She let the balloons close in. For a moment their eyes locked, and then George, embarrassed, broke away.

How delicious to be the one with experience!

“Sunglasses, sunglasses!” Gwynnie called, producing a capacious bag of them.

George stole her show, Beth thought. She has to call her audience back.

“People coming to my party afterward may wear a pair to establish that they are among the lucky ones,” Gwynnie said loudly.

There were snorts from those who were not among the lucky ones.

People like Anne, who were going to the party but would not have been caught dead in sunglasses, drifted away.

George eagerly reached for two pairs. Mickey Mouse for himself and Betty Boop for Beth Rose, who had to laugh. “They match my gown perfectly,” Beth said.

“Anything would look great with that dress,” George told her. “That is
some
dress. That is—oh, gee, I don't know what that dress is. But it
is
!” He adjusted her Betty Boop sunglasses. “Well? Are we going to dance or not?”

She was very aware that Gary was listening to every word, watching every gesture, following every move.

“We're going to dance,” Beth Rose said.

She did not look back.

Astonishing
, Molly reassured herself. I am astonishing.

Easy to forget sitting in the dumb dented Subaru instead of a real car. Molly's definition of a “real” car was one that cost a lot and seated only two.

In the shop trying the dress on, she had felt glamorous. Now she wasn't so sure.

Anne would simply look away. That was Anne's specialty—looking away.

Kip would say something superior. Nobody could put you down as well as Kip.

Beth Rose would be sweet. Molly could hear Beth Rose now, saying, “My! What bright colors!” or maybe “Green and black! How unusual!” Molly loathed sweet people. You just knew underneath they were sour as pickles.

Gwynnie, though.

What would Gwynnie think?

“Here we are,” Christopher said. He pulled up at the front entrance where a doorman was keeping watch over the drifting snow. “You get out and keep warm here while I park the car.”

Behind them parents in a station wagon dropped off a couple. The girl wore a floor length gown of pale yellow and a puffy jacket in white. The boy was wearing an ordinary suit, and a heavy ski jacket.

As they dashed in, the girl slipped. When her white jacket flew open, Molly saw the top of the dress—pale green, like an inverted tulip. A Beth Rose type of dress.

They would all be like that. Molly would not be astonishing at all, but just weird. Molly felt sick. How could she take off her coat? “I'll go to the parking lot with you, Christopher.”

“Don't be ridiculous. There's snow everywhere and it's a long walk back.”

Inside the lobby, the tulip had taken off her coat. She looked like a May Queen. Molly wrapped her own coat tightly around her and entered The Hadley alone. She used the huge, dark windows as mirrors. Not much showed beneath her coat

“Hey, Molly.”

She kept her coat together when she turned.

Con!

Molly's heart leaped. Tears pricked her eyes, she missed him so. Once he had even shoved her in a pool to teach her a lesson. It had. She learned she really, really liked Con because he was no fool.

She tried to cope with her emotions. He looked as if he had just fallen off a surf board. His skin was tan under a shock of dark hair, and his nose was slightly sunburned, and peeling.

“You look wonderful,” she said. “Where did you spend Christmas vacation?”

“The islands,” he said. As if anybody should know which islands he was referring to; as if he habitually flew to various tropical islands, or possibly owned one.

“Excellent tan,” she told him, and waited for the return compliment. Waited for him to say, How was she? How nice she looked! How much he had missed her!

He didn't. Con could always control his expressions, passing out the occasional smile like a prize to the winners in school. Now he stood silently before her: the complete snob, too good to have a conversation with the girl he had dated on the sly. Instead, he turned his back.

Turned his back and faced the banks of elevators
.

I'll kill him, she thought. I'll kill them all. Molly could not keep the hatred out of her voice. “So where's the famous Jade?” Probably about to emerge from the ladies' room. Probably went to “the islands” with Con. Probably had enough tan to color Easter eggs.

“Sick,” Con said.

Molly just bet. Sick? On New Year's Eve? Listen, if Molly had a date for New Year's Eve with Con Winter, she'd overcome any ten obstacles at once. “Must have been some argument.” She knew what it was like to argue with Con. If he sensed he might lose, Con simply walked away. It was perhaps his finest skill. Vanishing at crucial moments.

“I've never had an argument with Jade,” Con said stiffly. “She's very ill. As a matter of fact, she's in the hospital.”

“Dying of love, I suppose,” Molly said. “Uh-huh. Tell me another one, Con.”

Con did not have the features to look stern and harsh. The best he could do was a mild frown. His face was built for snobbery, not wrath.

“So, darling boy, you're on your own, huh?” Molly said. “You can join Christopher and me.” Why had he come alone? To gaze at Anne? To hurt Jade? To pick up some other dumb girl who wouldn't know any better?

“You're going out with Christopher Vann again? That stupid drunk?” Con said contemptuously.

“You're a fine one to talk,” Molly snapped. “You're a parent, Con, and that definitely requires stupidity in this day and age.”

Con pushed the UP button again.

Nothing happened.

It was hot in the foyer.

She shrugged out of her coat and fanned herself slightly.

Con stared. “
That
is a dress? Molly, take my advice. Go home and change.”

“Con, take my advice,” she shot right back. “Go to the hospital and stay by Jade's side, maybe contract a fatal disease or two.”

It was good to be angry. Anger would carry her.

And anger might have lasted, except that Christopher joined them. “Hello, Con,” Christopher said politely, not knowing he had just been called a stupid drunk. He extended his hand, and Con shook it firmly.

An old rhyme came into Molly's head.
Liar, liar, pants on fire, steal a baby's pacifier
.

That was Con. If it suited him, he'd steal a baby's pacifier. He had no morals. He did whatever made him come out on top.

Molly conveniently overlooked the fact that this also defined her own choices in life.

“I'm lost,” Matt said.

“How could you be lost!” Emily cried, sitting up and looking out into the featureless snow. “We just stay on the main road all the way to Lynnwood! Oh, Matt!” she scolded. It was so unlike him. Matt loved driving more than anything else, and his navigating skills were something he was very proud of. She peered through the windshield. She hardly ever knew where they were.

“How lost are we?” Emily asked nervously.

“Very lost,” Matt said, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

“What's funny about it?” she demanded.

“The car isn't lost,” he said to her. “It's never been lost, it never will be lost. Where the car is concerned, I always know exactly where I am.”

She stared at him. She drew her eyebrows very close together and pulled her lips into a tiny knot. “Don't be mysterious. What is lost, if it's not the car?”

“Me.”

“
Matthew
.”

“Really. I'm lost.”

“
Matthew
. Don't be annoying.”

“I'm not annoying. I'm in love.”

“You nut case. Lost in love, huh? A likely story. You're just trying to butter me up. What do you want tonight, Matthew O'Connor? You have plans you didn't tell me about? Huh?”

Matt grinned out into the snow and didn't answer.

T
HE HADLEY WAS HUGE
.

Kevin had pictured the elementary school cafeteria and Lee standing by the door, taking lunch money or something.

The Hadley had many front doors. Behind them, the space just went on forever. As far as a city block.

Counters. Clerks. Ferns. Desks. Little shops. Little shop windows that did not seem to be connected to shops.

Uniformed bellboys. Suitcases piled on trolleys. Hallways. A bank of elevators.

Doors.

Doors that led to empty black meeting rooms.

Doors that opened into a party of people Kevin knew were too old for Kip and George and Lee to be there.

Doors that led to a dusky noisy bar.

Doors that were locked.

More elevators. Another choice of halls.

Jamie was happy. He padded behind his brothers, staring at everybody and everything. He barged into a wall. He tripped over a cord. He examined the cigarette butts in the urns of sand. Unused urns had The Hadley logo pressed into the flat sand. Jamie ran his fingers through all untouched logos and admired his hand prints. He waved at the grownups in the party that wasn't Kip's and said “Good evening” to a clerk in the very same dignified voice the clerk had said “Good evening” to him.

Kevin said nothing. He was lost. He was scared.

Pete watched Kevin.

He was having a sinking feeling that this was a bad idea. Kip was going to kill them. He was glad Kevin was lost. Pete did not want to find his sister anymore.