I asked.
“Kennedy,” Margot said.
“Margot,” Savannah said, taking the reins of the story, “claims to have introduced JFK to Marilyn Monroe.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, laughing despite myself.
“Hardly,” Margot answered. “I knew Marilyn through Arthur—”
“Miller?” I asked, astounded.
“He was a good friend for a number of years,” Margot answered with a glint in her eye.
“She’s always been a patron of the arts,” Savannah said with a wicked smile.
“No need to be crude,” Margot chastised. “He was a dear friend and Marilyn was a lovely, if slightly tortured girl.”
“But how did you know the president?” I asked.
“He was a friend, too. Although that was before he was president.”
My fork clattered to my plate. I’d known she’d run in high and varied circles, but JFK? I glanced at Savannah, wondering if I wasn’t being put on. Just a little.
“All true, I’m afraid.” Savannah said. “She put the Notorious in the Notorious O’Neills.”
“Not all by myself,” Margot said, her look pointed, and Savannah wiped her mouth discreetly and focused on eating.
The tension in the room returned, prickly and aware.
Forks hitting plates and Katie quietly slurping noodles were the only noises. Savannah’s warmth was all but gone; a chill blew off her. Blew off all of them. I realized I should leave, so the women could go back to doing what they normally did when I wasn’t there to ruin dinner.
But the sleeping porch had no appeal right now. None. Hot, dark and lonely. And sitting here was—well, it was fun. And I was so hungry.
I had no reason to stay other than I enjoyed it. And it had been a long time since my only motivation was enjoyment.
“I designed a house for a certain famous couple.” The words fell out of me and popped the tension. Three pairs of feminine and fascinated eyes swung my way. Even Katie put her hostility away as they cajoled the names of the pair from me.
“You’re kidding?” Savannah asked.
“Do tell,” Margot insisted. “Is he as handsome in real life?”
“More so,” I answered. “They’re both beautiful. Ridiculously beautiful. I would marry him.” My honesty earned a laugh.
I had seconds, then thirds of the salad as I answered their questions about designing for the fabulously wealthy. Savannah brought out dishes of lime sherbet and I got Margot to tell me about her brief affair with a certain Bond actor.
“Let’s just say,” Margot said, eyebrow cocked as she stood to clear the dishes, “he took the James Bond thing very seriously. If you know what I mean.”
“Margot,” Savannah groaned, picking up a stack of bowls and taking them into the kitchen.
“What does she mean?” Katie asked, her eyes dancing between the adults.
“Here,” I said, standing up to grab the rest of the dishes before Margot got to them. “Let me help.”
Margot grabbed my hand and turned it over. The blisters and scrapes on my palm looked red and angry in the bright light of the chandelier. “You’re doing enough,” Margot said softly. “I don’t know what demon has possessed—”
I pulled my hands free and grabbed the plates anyway. “I’m fine,” I said. “Let me make my mother proud and clear the table.”
Margot lifted her hands in surrender and sat.
“Well, then,” she said, “perhaps we can go back to our game? Katie and I have grown bored playing with just the two of us.”
“Sure,” I said, happy at the thought.
“No.” Katie stood. “I won’t play with him.” She ran from the room.
“Katie!” Margot called after her.
“It’s all right,” I said, something dark and heavy sitting on my chest. Regret? Grief? Probably both. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
I grabbed the empty salad bowl and took it into the kitchen. There was no dishwasher, and Savannah was filling the sink with bubbles.
“I’ll wash, you dry?” she asked.
I met her gaze; so blue and careful. Cautious, as if she expected rejection.
Suddenly the kitchen was too small and I wanted badly to escape to the courtyard. To be alone. The temptation of her was nearly too much, but in the end I merely nodded and stepped aside so she could stand at the sink.
Because I was a glutton for punishment, and because a few hours in the company of these women made me feel lighter. Cleaner. The ghosts and their dirty hands were leaving me alone.
We worked silently, each of us careful not to touch one another in handing off dishes. Not that it particularly mattered. Touching or not, I wanted her so much I