Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,114

up early the next day, an hour before the morning rush in the bathroom. She spent a long time in the shower, shaving her legs and underarms, an activity she skipped most of the time. She used something called a ten-minute hair mask that Isabella said was the best product money could buy and exfoliated her entire body with a cocoa-butter scrub she had spotted in someone’s shower caddy a week ago and determined to borrow for Clive’s arrival.

Afterward, Sam put on makeup for the first time since she returned from London last month. She blew out her hair. She wore a dress he liked, black, printed with purple and orange flowers. It pulled her in at the waist and landed just above her knee.

Once she was ready, she went downstairs. There were only a few students in the dining hall. In half an hour, the room would be packed, voices echoing against the high ceiling. But now there was a hush. The ones who ate this early ate alone, reading thick textbooks or staring at their phones.

Sam passed the buffet. The scrambled eggs hadn’t been touched. The tower of shiny green apples was as yet undisturbed.

She pushed the swinging door into the kitchen, where Maria, Delmi, and Gaby were at work.

Maria opened her eyes wide.

“Check out the movie star,” she said.

She spun Sam around in a circle.

The others oohed approvingly.

“Good dress,” Gaby said.

“Thanks,” Sam said.

She went to the pantry where the coffee maker lived. She poured herself a cup.

Maria followed her. She licked the palm of her hand and rubbed it against Sam’s hair.

“There,” she said. “A piece was sticking up. Listen, we got a request for workers for a big alumnae dinner, the Thursday before graduation. Pays time and a half. Gaby’s doing it. Should I sign you up?”

“Sure,” Sam said. “Thanks.”

After sophomore year, she stuck around when the spring semester ended to earn extra money. She waited tables at reunion dinners each night and helped make sandwiches and snickerdoodles for the senior brown-bag picnic out on the soccer field. The recently vacated dorm rooms were occupied by old ladies in flannel nightgowns who wanted to chat with her while they applied eye cream in front of the bathroom mirror. This was supposed to be a perk of the reunion experience, getting to stay in your former dorm. Sam had witnessed two women in Eileen Fisher, fighting over who got the single on the fourth floor that both of them had once occupied.

The women’s presence in the rooms where she was so used to seeing her fellow dorm mates had creeped her out. It was as if all her friends had aged fifty years and only she remained young.

“Sam,” Maria said now. “The dinner? It’s at President Washington’s house.”

Sam gasped. “I love her.”

“I know you do. That’s why I thought of you.”

“I’ve always wanted to go inside her house.”

By then, Sam thought, the school paper would have published her letter. Maybe President Washington would know who she was.

Sam and Maria went back out to the kitchen and joined the others.

“What time does his flight get in?” Gaby said.

“Nine.”

“And where will the Princess go while he’s here? Did she get a room at the Ritz?”

“She goes across the hall, to our friends’ room,” Sam said. “It’s actually so nice of her.”

Sam wished Gaby and Isabella could like each other. Maybe they just needed to get to know one another. She should make a plan to hang out with both of them some night soon, after Clive was gone.

“Sam,” Delmi said. “Are you still pretending you have a boyfriend?”

It was a joke she’d started back in October, after Clive visited the first time and Sam didn’t introduce them. After he left, they teased her—Is there even a Clive, really? Is he your imaginary Clive?

Sam sipped her coffee as Gaby showed her a video on her phone of Josie dancing to Taylor Swift.

“We have to introduce her to Gil soon,” Sam said. “I have a feeling they’ll hit it off. Who knows? Maybe they’ll get married.”

“Maybe so,” Gaby said.

“Gil better look out,” Maria said. “Josie’s a fireball. She’s got a temper like her mama.”

“It’s true,” Gaby said. She sounded proud.

She had only once mentioned Josie’s father to Sam. He was a guy she met working in a restaurant. They dated casually for a few months, and then Gaby realized she was pregnant.

“I didn’t tell him,” she said. “He was about to move to Michigan. He would have been a