“Nonsense, we’ll find something,” Liza said. “What time did you say the bar opened?”
“Actually, the procedure is that you first go through the reception line,” Mrs. Davidson said, “and then, if you like, you can have a cocktail.”
“Or two, or three?” Liza asked.
“However many as you would like, of course,” Mrs. Davidson said, rather coldly.
“If you would wait for us in the foyer, we’ll take you through the reception line,” Mrs. McCarthy said.
“That’s before I can go to the bar, right?”
“That would be better, Mrs. Oliver,” Mrs. McCarthy said. “And now, if you’ll excuse us?”
“You sure you don’t want a little nip for the road?” Liza asked.
Mrs. McCarthy and Mrs. Davidson declined and left the apartment.
“How many of those have you had?” Marjorie demanded. “My God, Liza!”
“This is the first and only,” Liza said. “I haven’t been so happy since the Chaplain said, ‘I pronounce you man and wife.’ ”
“What?”
“I hate women like that,” Liza said. “How long did it take her to tell you her husband went to Hudson High and that she was here at the orders of Mrs. General Whatsisname? Twenty seconds?”
“Closer to ten,” Marjorie said, smiling.
“And from now until we show up out there, they’ll be worried sick that we’re going to show up smashed and cause a scene that’ll get them on Mrs. General Whatsisname’s shitlist.”
“I’m not going out there with you if you’re going to pretend to be smashed,” Marjorie said. “Much less really smashed.”
“You don’t get it, do you? We’re going to go out there and show those two quote ladies unquote how two officers’ ladies, no quotes, behave.”
From Liza Wood Oliver’s point of view, at least, the monthly Welcome New Wives Get To Know One Another cocktail party could not have gone better.
Mrs. Davidson and Mrs. McCarthy were waiting for them in the foyer of the club. There were about thirty young women gathered in a herd to be led through the line. Both ladies were visibly surprised to find Marjorie and Liza in nearly identical simple black dresses, each with a single strand of pearls.
Liza quickly managed to erase the smile of approval on Mrs. McCarthy’s face by asking her if she couldn’t get a quick one in the bar, then come back to go through the reception line.
“Please just take your place with the others, dear,” Mrs. McCarthy said, and placed Marjorie and Liza at the end of what would be the line passing the senior officers’ wives.
As the line started to move, Liza grabbed Marjorie’s arm and went to the head of the line.
Short of wrestling Liza to the floor, there was nothing Mrs. McCarthy could do.
There were seven senior officers’ wives in the line, lined up according to their husbands’ rank, with the most junior closest to the door.
This turned out to be Mrs. General Lowze. Mrs. General Hanrahan was third in line.
Following Mrs. McCarthy’s rather precise directions, Mrs. Oliver and Mrs. Portet gave their names to Mrs. General Lowze and the general’s wife (Mrs. 82nd Division artillery commander) standing beside her.
Both ladies said they were very happy to make their acquaintance.
The third general’s lady leaned forward and kissed Mrs. Oliver, and then Mrs. Portet.
“I didn’t expect to see you two here,” Patricia Hanrahan said. “Good for you.”
She then turned to the ladies to her right, who were Mrs. 82nd Division Commander, Mrs. Assistant XVIII Airborne Corps Commander, and Mrs. XVIII Airborne Corps Commander herself.
“I think you all know Marjorie Portet, Bob Bellmon’s daughter, ” she called out, “and I know you all knew his aide Captain Johnny Oliver. This is the brand-new Mrs. Johnny Oliver, Liza.”
The orderly flow of the reception line was interrupted for a good three minutes, while the two brides received the best wishes of the senior officers’ ladies.
Neither Mrs. Davidson nor Mrs. McCarthy found occasion to speak with Mrs. Oliver or Mrs. Portet for the remainder of the Get To Know festivities.
XV
[ ONE ]
Office of the Chairman of the Board
Craig, Powell, Kenyon & Dawes
101 Wall Street
New York City, New York
1525 29 January 1965
Porter Craig, when he saw the light flashing on one of his telephones, pushed the lever of his intercom.
“Gladys, that had better be important. I am savoring my very last cup of coffee. I won’t get any on the plane, or in Florida.”
“Mrs. Porter is just trying to keep you alive, I can’t imagine why. It’s the colonel. What do I tell him?”
“You’re a lady, Gladys. I can’t use the language I’d like to.”