Father Lunsford was in when he came back from the Congo. Did Father get a plush, sit-on-his-ass-and-play-golf assignment? Hell, no. Neither of them did. Your Jack did a John Wayne in Stanleyville, and what happened? ‘Pin a bar on that one, we can squeeze him a lot more.’”
“What’s your point?”
“No point, I just felt like saying that.”
“Okay. And for what it’s worth, I agree. But that was the last bitter, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Liza said, and walked to Marjorie and tapped her beer bottle against hers. “From now on, all will be sweetness and light.”
There was the sound of door chimes.
“Who the hell can that be?” Marjorie asked.
She walked to the door and opened it, carefully concealing her beer bottle behind the door.
Two women in their late twenties were standing in the corridor, in heels, good dresses, hats, and white gloves.
“Hello,” Marjorie said.
“Mrs. Portet?”
“That’s pronounced ‘Por-tay,’ but yes.”
“I’m Helen Davidson, and this is Paula McCarthy,” the other woman said. “Welcome to the ranks of Army wives.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We’re the co-chairladies of the Welcome New Wives Committee, ” Mrs. Davidson said. “Our honorary chairlady is Doris Lowze.”
When that obviously rang no bell with Marjorie, Mrs. McCarthy quickly said, “Doris Lowze. General Lowze is assistant division commander of the Eighty-Second Airborne.”
“What can I do for you, ladies?” Marjorie asked.
“May we come in?” Mrs. Davidson said. “We were here earlier, and you weren’t in.” This statement came out as an accusation.
“Certainly,” Marjorie said, and immediately regretted it.
“Oh, what a nice apartment,” Mrs. McCarthy said. “When Jack and I were married—we were married right after he graduated from the Military Academy—we didn’t have anything nearly as nice as this.”
Liza came out of the kitchen holding her beer bottle.
“These ladies are the co-chairladies of the Welcome Wives Committee—”
“That’s Welcome New Wives Committee,” Mrs. Davidson corrected her.
“Well, you certainly came to the right place,” Liza said. “Can we offer you a beer?”
“This is my friend Liza Wood,” Marjorie said.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” Mrs. McCarthy said. “Actually, I’ve found it best to avoid alcohol until the cocktail hour.”
“Have you really?” Liza asked.
“Especially when there is going to be a social event later on, during which alcohol will be served,” Mrs. McCarthy said.
“Which is why we’re here, actually,” Mrs. Davidson said. “Mrs. Lowze feels that it’s very important to get new wives involved as soon as possible. I really hope you don’t have plans for tonight.”
“Actually,” Liza said. “Not a goddamn one. How about you, Marjie, baby?”
“The monthly Welcome New Wives Get To Know One Another cocktail party is tonight, Mrs. Portet—Por-tay,” Mrs. McCarthy said, “and Mrs. Lowze would really be very disappointed. . . .”
“She really would,” Mrs. Davidson chimed in. “She asked us to make a special effort to find you and make sure you came.”
“How did you find me?” Marjorie asked.
“The sergeant at POV registration gave us your address,” Mrs. McCarthy said.
“Is he supposed to do that?” Marjorie asked.
“Well, of course, dear,” Mrs. Davidson said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have, right?”
“And whose adorable little boy is that?” Mrs. McCarthy asked.
“Mine,” Liza said. “Marjorie hasn’t been married long enough to have a rug rat of her own.”
“Your husband’s not in the Army, I take it?” Mrs. Davidson asked. “Mrs. Wood, is it?”
“Actually, it’s Mrs. Oliver,” Liza said. “And actually, yes, he’s in the Army.”
“But not stationed at Fort Bragg?”
“Actually, yes, he is stationed at Fort Bragg.”
“I can’t imagine why we don’t have your name on our list,” Mrs. McCarthy said.
“Actually, either can I,” Liza said. “Does that mean I don’t get to come to the party?”
“Really, ladies,” Marjorie said. “While we both appreciate the invitation, and please thank . . . Mrs. Lowze, you said? . . . for thinking about us—”
“What time is this affair, actually?” Liza asked.
“Seventeen thirty,” Mrs. McCarthy said. “At the Main Officers’ Club, on the main post. Do you know where that is?”
“And there’s child care, of course,” Mrs. Davidson said. “Right next to the Club.”
“Oh, the kid can’t come to the party?” Liza asked.
“Mrs. . . . Oliver, you said?”
“That’s right.”
“This is a cocktail party for the ladies. No children.”
“Perhaps the next time, ladies,” Marjorie said.
“Nonsense,” Liza said. “We’ll be there with bells on.”
“The suggested dress is a dressy dress, hat, and gloves,” Mrs. Davidson said.
“Well, if it’s inconvenient, perhaps it might be best if you did wait until next month’s Get To Know One Another,” Mrs. McCarthy said.
“I think I can scrounge up a dressy dress, hat, and gloves,” Liza said. “How about you, Marjie, baby?”