“I hate to admit it”—she laughed ruefully—“but I came out there myself. My parents go every year too. I haven't been since I came out. But it might be fun, with you. I wouldn't go otherwise.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, smiling broadly at her. He was dying to go somewhere nice with her and show her off in a pretty dress. He loved seeing her at the center, but he still enjoyed formal events like that himself. It was fun dressing up once in a while, and the event was white tie.
“It's a yes,” she said, as they walked on. “When is it?” She had to buy a dress. She hadn't worn a ballgown in years, although she could have borrowed one from her mother, but didn't want to ask. They were the same size. She wanted to look beautiful for Charlie, and her mother's gowns would look too matronly on her.
“It's not for a few weeks. I'll look it up when I go to the office.” She nodded. Going to the deb ball with him was a big step for her, backward into her old life. But she also knew it was just a one-night oddity for her now, not a way of life. As a tourist, she could handle it, though she didn't want more of it than that. It was a compromise and gesture she was willing to make for him.
They fell silent as they continued to walk uptown toward her house, and then turned east on Ninety-first. They were both ice-cold by then. It felt like it might snow. When they got to her front door, she turned to him and smiled. She could invite him in since he now knew it was her house, and no longer believed she was renting a small studio in the back.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked him shyly as she looked for her key and finally found it, at the bottom of her bag, where it always was.
“Is that all right with you?” he asked cautiously, and she nodded. She wanted him to. It was getting dark by then. They had been together since lunchtime, and had had a long lunch. They had a lot of time to make up for now, and had admitted over lunch how much they had missed each other. He had missed talking to her, knowing what she did, and sharing the excitement and complications and daily details of his own life with her. He had gotten used to her sage advice and wise counsel in the month they'd been seeing each other, and had felt her absence sorely once she was gone, as she had his.
They walked into a small distinguished-looking vestibule as they walked into the house. It had an elegant black-and-white marble floor. There were two small sitting rooms on the ground floor, one of which led into a handsome garden, and one flight up the stairs was a beautiful living room with large comfortable upholstered chairs and couches, a fireplace, and English antiques that she had taken from one of her parents' houses with their permission. They had more in storage. The house was elegant but at the same time warm and cozy, as she was, distinguished but playful. There were objects everywhere that were meaningful to her, even artwork by the children at the center. It was a wonderful mélange of old and new, expensive or priceless objects that had been made by children, or unusual objects found somewhere on her travels. There was a big comfortable kitchen, and a small, formal dining room with dark red walls and English hunting prints that had been her grandfather's. Upstairs, she had a large sunny bedroom and a guest room. She used the top floor as a small at-home office. She gave him a tour of the office, and he was greatly impressed as they walked back downstairs to the kitchen.
“I never invite anyone over, for obvious reasons,” she said sadly. “I'd love to have people for dinner here sometime, but I just can't.” She was pretending to be poor, and leading a secret life. Charlie knew it had to be lonely for her, just as his life was, for different reasons. She still had parents, but didn't like the ones she had, and had never been close to them. They had been emotionally absent all her life. He had no one. By different routes, they had arrived at the same place.