me to a tennis match in the park. Just going to change.”
“Please don’t, Henry. It’s chilly out.”
Since the two had known each other at school, they’d fought with fists over a variety of issues, including me. Injuries were usually minor, though Merrill had once received Henry’s ire in the shape of two black eyes. Henry quickly presented Merrill with two steaks to bring down the swelling, which Henry cooked and they ate that night, quite happily friends again.
Henry waved Caroline down the hall to his room. “Caroline will help me choose the proper clothes, won’t you, my girl? And fix me a Dubonnet, Eliza?”
“Before tennis?”
“It is mostly quinine.”
“It will protect you from malaria,” Caroline said.
Henry held out his arms, palms up. “See? It’s medicinal.”
“May I come to tennis, Father?” Caroline asked.
“You have a German test to study for.”
Caroline stood. “I hate the kaiser. He’s rank mad.”
Henry glanced at me with a wide smile. “I think we have an actress on our hands, Eliza.”
“Let’s not fan those flames, Henry.”
He took Caroline by the hand and hurried down the hall to his room.
I called after Henry. “Please don’t go, dear.”
“Do offer Merrill a lemonade, Eliza,” Henry called back.
Their steps receded down the hallway and Merrill turned to me with a smile. “It’s been a while.”
Peg cast us furtive glances from her spot at the trunk where she stood folding a sweater, glacially slowly as if practicing furoshiki, the ancient Japanese art of garment folding.
“I’m terribly busy, Merrill. Packing for a mystery trip. Hoping for India.”
“The wilds of India? Hot as hell there.” He pulled a gauzy, orange sari from the trunk and held it to the light. “You’re wearing this? I prefer women in quiet, conservative clothes, carefully made.”
Was it any wonder I chose Henry over Merrill? He had none of Henry’s flexible, good humor. Though undeniably attractive, Merrill was almost too typically good-looking and lacked those flaws that make a face interesting. Like a curious scar or slight overbite.
I snatched the sari from him and handed it to Peg. “Of course you do, Merrill.”
“Why anyone travels is a mystery—”
Merrill considered a trip to Staten Island risky.
“Must you take Henry for tennis, Merrill? You’ll just run him around—and he may have a fever.”
“Nothing wrong with friendly competition.” Merrill held out one hand. “It’s good to see you, Eliza.”
I walked around him toward the trunk, which held my wraps, folding a scarlet piano shawl. One can never have too much outerwear when traveling.
He followed. “It would be nice to catch up sometime. Talk.” He placed one hand on the small of my back. How many times had he done that when we’d stepped out together in the old days?
I stepped aside. “About what, Merrill dear? I need to fix Henry’s drink.”
“Just, well, old times, I suppose.”
Though I had seen Merrill about town at social events, it had been twelve years since he and I had briefly seen each other socially.
I touched his sweater sleeve. “I hear you’ve been seeing the Jackson girl. She seems quite nice and would be willing to share your, well, simple lifestyle.” I handed the shawl to Peg and she tossed it in the trunk drawer.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, let’s be honest, dear, when you’re not working you’re chasing a ball somewhere.”
“You’d prefer I went on safari?”
“What I prefer doesn’t matter any—”
Henry bounded back into the living room dressed in white duck trousers and a linen shirt, Caroline in tow twisting a peppermint candy from its cellophane.
Merrill stepped to the wall to examine a print.
“What are you two scheming?” Henry asked. “I’m off to teach old Merrill a lesson.”
“Henry, stay home and make sure your trunks are packed properly. It’s going to pour rain and there’s no need to prove anything, dear. Not everyone is meant to be sporty.”
Henry pulled a towel across the back of his neck and held it by both ends. “I played tennis at St. Paul’s.”
“So you claim,” Merrill said.
Henry kissed me on the cheek, his mustache grazing it in a lovely way, and the two headed for the door with barely a glance back.
“Stay and have your Dubonnet, Henry.”
They rushed out the door.
“We’ll toast the winner, so don’t wait up,” Henry called back over his shoulder.
Peg closed the door behind them and their voices trailed off. I stepped to the window and watched Henry and Merrill emerge onto the street below. Henry lit a cigar and Merrill waved his tennis racquet as they walked, the sky darkening over the building tops.
Then I