Lilian had the maroon wallpaper taken down from the library and the rugs changed in the hall, but mostly she was too conscious of her parents’ absence to want to change much. The ship prints remained in their step formation on the stairway, and the Copley stayed above the mantel where it nicely fit. Gilbert’s leather bar with the removable tray established itself in the living room, and Lilian experimented with where to put the Chinese end tables. Her lemon tree did not survive the move.

Now and then she could almost hear her father’s booming voice and would shudder with a sort of longing inside, or think she glimpsed her mother’s head bowed in her sewing spot. The sound of pearls clicking against the glass top of her dressing table conjured up her mother immediately, and she could nearly smell the sherry.

When the weather turned mild they had a housewarming and set up card tables and chairs out back where a new trellis had been put up for Chinese wisteria. The children ran in circles around the daffodils.

One day as she shut the small drawer of the highboy, the cherry one in the family for years, taking out some of the good matches, Lilian received a shock at the end of her sleeve: she saw her mother’s hand.

53 • Drinks at the country club

53 • Drinks at the country club

I HAVEN’T the least idea what you’re thinking either, said Gilbert Finch in mild tones. I suppose it has something to do with thoughts being silent.

Just ask and I’ll tell you, Lilian said.

I wouldn’t dream of it.

They sat at a glass table on the club terrace overlooking the first tee. Lilian wore her blue dress with the white flowers spaced across it, the shoulder pads further straightening her straight shoulders. That night, dressing for dinner, she noticed the wake of grey spraying off from her part. She pinned up her hair and figured that at thirty-nine she could expect a few grey hairs.

Gilbert sipped his drink. If they don’t get here soon, I’m leaving, he said.

You know, said Lilian. I don’t think they actually introduced us.

Then why are we here?

Well, they played a part.

Gilbert nodded vaguely, this being the sort of thing Lilian kept track of.

I don’t think anyone introduced us, she said.

They sat in silence for a while.

But you know Marian, Lilian said. Any excuse for gaieties …

Gilbert signaled to the waiter. He fingered a few peanuts from a dish into his palm and ate them one at a time. Presently his drink arrived.

I’ve never known Dickie Wiggin to be on time, he said.

It’s just a drink, Lilian said.

I could be at home minding my own business.