Chapter Six:
The Dinner Party
Alphonse and Dora’s wedding was set to take place at ten o’clock the following morning. There would be hundreds of guests, but most of them would be staying in hotels. Only Adrienne herself, a few of Alphonse’s closest associates, and Dora’s parents and brother were staying in the house.
None of the other guests would arrive until eight-thirty in the morning, when there would be light refreshments served inside the house, until everyone was herded out onto the beach for the ceremony. Alphonse and Adrienne had been raised Catholic, and a priest would preside over the occasion. There would be a white, flowered arch that Dora had designed (it seemed that she was an interior decorator), set up in front of the rolling ocean. A multitude of ivory chairs would be set up behind it.
The night before the wedding, Alphonse had planned a supper to be shared by the people staying at the beach house. According to his plan, everyone filed downstairs at seven o’clock, and joined together in the dining room.
It was a magnificent room, obviously. It was semi-nautical, semi-rustic, filled with seashells and woodland motifs. Across the wide wall opposite the entrance, there was a large depiction on Winslow Homer’s The Fox Hunt. The orange fox crouched low in the snow, watching the approach of angry black crows.
Adrienne studied the painting for a brief moment, and shuddered. But she tried to hide her discomfort.
The long table was made of pale birch wood, with low wicker chairs set around it. The centerpiece was a compilation of conch shells and pinecones.
The party was made up of Alphonse, his fiancée Dora, her parents, Adrienne, and two of Alphonse’s colleagues. He jokingly called them friends, when he introduced them to Adrienne – but that was all she really suspected it was. An elaborate joke.
The two men examined everything in the house very thoroughly – in a very subtle way, of course – and seemed to laugh a little to themselves, before venturing into the dining room for supper. Then they smiled at Alphonse, and shook his hand heartily.
Alphonse escorted Adrienne into the dining room, while Dora walked in on her father’s arm.
“These are your friends, Alphonse?” Adrienne asked.
He fixed his dark eyes on the two middle-aged men stationed by the sideboard; and his gaze was almost fierce. But then he looked down at Adrienne, and smiled. “You could say that,” he said simply. “I help them – and they help me. Other than you and Dora, they’re all I have in the world.”
Adrienne was sad to hear that. But she showed no sign of it, and she smiled along with her brother, as they sashayed into the dining room.
“Everyone,” he pronounced clearly, with a noticeable measure of pride in his voice, “this is my sister, Adrienne. Adrienne – these are Dora’s parents, Frank and Deborah. You’ve already met Tom and Dick.”
Adrienne nodded curtly to the two gentlemen, and sat down when Alphonse pulled out her chair.
Tom Hardy walked over to Adrienne, smiling in a wolfish way that made her cringe. Dick Halloran hung back, sipping at his gin and tonic, and surveying the scene with half-drunken eyes.
“It’s hard to believe you’re Al’s sister,” Hardy said to Adrienne. “You’re so damned beautiful!”
Adrienne didn’t reply. She just took a sip of her rum and Coke, and glared up at him from under her eyelashes.
“Good Lord a’mighty!” Hardy exclaimed. “How’d you keep this little fireball hidden all this time, Al?”
Alphonse grinned, and squeezed Adrienne’s shoulder gently.
Tom and Dick were thoroughly unpleasant – and almost identical, by the way, with their pale doughy faces, and their thin, short hair that was obviously dyed (Dick’s may have even been a toupee) – but Dora’s family was a welcome reprieve.
Her father was a quiet, stern-looking man, but he had a warm smile, and Adrienne had never seen hands that looked so strong. Mrs. Wakefield was a short, stout woman, with wonderfully rosy cheeks, and a rolling laugh. Her hair was already white, and she looked like Mrs. Santa Claus.
Dora’s brother was a different sort of character. He was quiet like his father: not so much in a stalwart way, but in a reserved, introverted sort of way. He was handsome as his sister was beautiful, but Adrienne doubted whether he knew it. His name was Benjamin.
It was obvious that Benjamin was usually a reticent sort of person, but after watching him for a while, Adrienne wondered if he was especially unwilling to converse on this particular evening. He kept looking from Dora to Alphonse, and then he’d glance at his father, who sometimes returned his gaze, and sometimes didn’t. It was hard to read Mr. Wakefield’s expression, but Benjamin looked upset. He was going heavy on the bourbon.
A while after they’d finished eating, when the young man got up for the fifth or sixth time to refill his glass at the sideboard, Adrienne stood up quietly, and followed him. When she got to the sideboard, she glanced back at the table to see if anyone was watching them.
Hardy and Halloran were conducting a very rowdy business conversation with Alphonse – something about some client or other, who either did or didn’t owe Dick money for something that he should or shouldn’t have done; Mr. Wakefield was dozing with his chin in his hand; and Dora was talking quietly with her mother.
But, when Adrienne got up from the table, Dora looked to see where she was going. And she watched her now, while she stood at the sideboard beside her brother. Adrienne met her eyes for a brief moment, and then nodded slightly. Dora smiled softly in return, and turned back to her mother.
Adrienne set her glass on the sideboard, half-filled it with ice, and then splashed in some rum. She mixed it with diet Coke, and swilled it around with her straw before taking a sip, watching the side of Benjamin’s face. He was clearly distraught. His shapely chin was covered with dark stubble that he’d missed with the razor, and his eyes were a little red. His hands shook as he reached for the bourbon.
“Are you sure you should have another?” Adrienne asked in a quiet voice.
He looked at her in surprise, not having realized that she’d followed him. But then his face clouded over with anger, and he asked defensively, “What’s it to you?”
“I’m not trying to be judgmental,” Adrienne said simply, sipping calmly through her straw. “It’s only that I’m trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself. Because it’s no fun. Believe me.”
His face softened, and his hand fell away from the bourbon bottle. “What are you talking about?” he asked curiously.
Adrienne glanced back at the table again, and then nodded towards a pair of open doors in the adjoining sitting room, which led out to a wide terrace, looking out onto the bay. She led the way, and was grateful that Alphonse didn’t seem to notice. Dora and her mother watched them strangely, but when Mrs. Wakefield seemed about to ask Dora something, her daughter laid a hand on her arm, and whispered something to her. Mrs. Wakefield smiled, obviously comforted by whatever she’d said. Then she took another piece of cake.
When they stepped out onto the terrace, Adrienne shut the doors behind them, and walked across the dark red adobe floor to the cast-iron railing. She leaned against it, and looked out on the crashing waves, where the moon was shining brilliantly.
“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m talking about,” she said plainly. “It’s obvious that you don’t want your sister to marry my brother. It’s fortunate that he doesn’t seem to be very receptive to other people’s feelings, because almost anyone else would have noticed the way you’ve been acting. You’re drinking too much, and you can’t handle it. One more drink, and I was afraid you’d start a fight.”
Benjamin Wakefield hung his head, and traipsed across to the railing. The mild wind blew against his face, and seemed to sober him up a bit.
“I don’t mean to be an ass,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just – Dora’s always been my best friend. I’ve never had many friends. But she’s always been there.”
; Adrienne looked at him, and felt sympathetic. It was a strange feeling. She hadn’t felt sympathy for anyone in what seemed like a very long time.
“It’s not that I don’t like Alphonse,” he went on. “I don’t even know him, to be honest. I just – I just think that Dora’s marrying him for the wrong reasons. We’ve never had much money, you know. We still don’t. Daddy’s a good man, and he’s always worked hard. Mama washed laundry to make ends meet. But suddenly, Dora’s going to marry Alphonse, and we’re living in a condo in Florida. I’m in law school. We don’t have the money to pay your brother back for any of this – and I’m just afraid – I’m afraid of what will happen if . . .”
“If it doesn’t work out,” Adrienne finished for him.
“Yes,” he breathed, looking incredibly grateful that she’d understood.
“You’ve been very honest,” Adrienne said to him. “So now I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know you, or your family. Hell, I don’t even know my own brother. But I can promise you – I’ll do all I can to make sure he honors the promises he’s made you. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know the answer to that. I can only promise to try.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked, obviously trying to understand.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “For you, I suppose. You seem like a good man. I don’t know many good men.” She paused, and closed her eyes for a moment against the blinding moonlight on the waves.
She was surprised to see Dora Wakefield’s face flash behind her eyelids.
“And for Dora,” she said quietly. “She’s marrying my brother – and that will make her family. It will make all of you my family. I don’t have much family, by the way, so I suppose I should try to do right by you.”
Benjamin Wakefield smiled earnestly, the effect of the alcohol almost all gone from him now. Then he turned away from the railing, and gestured for Adrienne to go ahead of him.
She walked into the house, with the purposeful but subtle tread she had grown accustomed to using on Frenchmen Street. One had to show that one knew where one was going – but it shouldn’t be suspected that one was trying to attract attention. It was a difficult combination, but by no means an impossible one.
When he came back into the dining room, Benjamin poured himself a glass of water, and sat down at the table next to his mother. He laid a hand on her arm, and started talking to her, with a soft smile on his face.
Adrienne hovered by the sideboard, refilling her glass with rum and Coke. She felt eyes on her, and she looked to see Dora Wakefield, watching her intently.
Adrienne nodded once more. But this time, Dora rose up from her seat, and came to join her at the sideboard.
“You said something to make him feel better,” she said plainly, reaching for the vodka.
“I tried to be honest,” Adrienne returned, with a strange fluttering feeling in her chest. She watched Dora carefully, studying the movement of her lips as she took a drink from her glass. It mesmerized her, somehow.
“Whatever you said,” Dora said, practically draining her glass, “I can see that it helped him.” She set down the glass, and looked straight into Adrienne’s face.
Adrienne’s heart stopped dead in its tracks. Her breath flew away from her – and she wondered if it would come back. She was pleasantly surprised when she started breathing again.
“Thank you,” Dora said softly, reaching out to twine the fingers of her right hand with those of Adrienne’s left.
“You’re welcome,” Adrienne said, practically choking on the words. All she could feel was the smooth skin of Dora’s fingers, brushing against hers. There was a fire in her breast. She’d never felt anything like it – and she hoped she’d never feel it again. It was like being ill.