she went on to explain, “I could learn how to discover talents like Pavlova and Nijinsky and launch a company like the Ballets Russes. I would ask that great Russian impresario to tell me how to stage operas and orchestral works by the up-and-coming geniuses of our time the way he did with Rimsky-Korsakov and Tchaikovsky in his day. That’s a secret fantasy of mine.”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “That’s quite an ambition for a young lady fresh out of college,” he said, staring at Jackie wide-eyed. “Judging by your job with the Times-Herald, I would have thought that you wanted to be a reporter.”
“Oh, I love writing too, and I don’t want to brag, but I’m told that I have some talent for it,” Jackie said in a self-effacing tone. “Actually, I’d be happy to have a career in any of the arts.” Oh God, a career in the arts; that sounds so pretentious. She shook her head, smiled at Jack, and said in a whispery, girlish voice, “But I’m supposed to be interviewing you, not talking about myself. You’re the one everyone wants to know about. You’re running for the Senate, and I’m just running around like a chicken without a head.”
“A brainy, beautiful, well-bred chicken,” Jack said, laughing. “Even the White House executive chef wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with you.”
Jackie fidgeted in her chair, anxious to get back to the interview and then try to swing the conversation around to more weighty matters, like Jack’s feelings about the CIA.
But Jack surprised her. He leaned toward her, pursed his lips, and said, “I was just thinking, Jacqueline, that we never did get to go dancing at the Shoreham, did we? If you like, we can have a night out and do the interview after that.” His eyes twinkled at her in a teasing way that she found as cute as a dimple. “You’re looking pretty healthy to me, so I don’t suppose you’ll be catching a virus by Saturday, will you? I’d hate for you to disappoint me again.”
Jackie cringed. That’s right, Jack, rub it in. He had to bring up her lame excuse for breaking their date, didn’t he? “No, I absolutely will not be catching any viruses, even if I have to be quarantined all week,” Jackie said with a red face, “and I would love to go dancing at the Shoreham Saturday night.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Jack rose from his chair and held out both his hands to her. “You’re a fascinating woman, Jacqueline,” he said, sounding as if he meant it. “I have a feeling that after I get to know you better, the person I might want to be shipwrecked with on an island is you.”
XXVI
When she walked into the Blue Room on the arm of Jack Kennedy, Jackie could feel all eyes turning in their direction. She had made sure to wear something stunning—a low-cut, form-fitting black chiffon by Oleg Cassini, a French-born American designer who was gaining fame dressing stars on Broadway and in motion pictures—but Jackie was sure that it was Jack Kennedy who was drawing all the stares. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see people nudging each other and nodding in their direction, as if to say, “Isn’t he that dashing young congressman and war hero from Massachusetts?” Even if they didn’t recognize Jack from his picture in newspapers and magazines, they were probably drawn to him, Jackie thought, by the same irresistible magnetism that she had witnessed at the Bartletts’ party.
As soon as they were seated at their table and had ordered their drinks, Jackie sensed that they would not be alone for long as she saw a short, stocky man in his early sixties approaching them.
“Hey there, Jack, nice to see you,” the man said, giving Jack a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Taking some time off from campaigning in Massachusetts, are you?” He rolled the fat cigar around in his mouth as he gave Jackie an appreciative look. “And you too, Jacqueline. You’re looking lovely tonight.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Jackie said, smiling sweetly at Arthur Krock, the chief Washington correspondent for the New York Times. He was familiar to Jackie as an esteemed member of her stepfather’s social circle and a constant guest at Merrywood. Charlie Barlett had told Jackie that he owed his career to Krock and that Krock was a close friend not only of Hugh Auchincloss, but of Joe Kennedy too.
“Arthur and Joe Kennedy