There was the time she went to the engagement party for one of the Amory girls and was struck during the toast by the dazed look on the affianced girl’s face. Lilian watched the groom whisper something to her and she nodded, in an enchanted stupor.

During these moments Lilian felt an uneasiness. Upon inspection, she saw it involved the extent to which she felt attached to Gilbert. She knew he loved her and that she loved him, but the knowing of it was one thing. She didn’t always feel it.

She found herself doubting their early days, the first encounters which had meant so much, the way he had gazed at her. When she had spoken to him then he had stared back with a glassy look, not hearing, and at the time she had thought it was love. Now she wondered if he’d heard her at all, had ever heard, and from there wondered if anyone had heard the things she said.

A feeling lingered in the back of her mind, the notion of having missed something, something important. Had she thought life would be so different?

44 • The luncheon club

44 • The luncheon club

WITH AN EYE to promoting cultural conversation, the ladies in the luncheon club did not discuss the three M’s — marriage, money and men. Thus they heard about Irene Putnam’s trip to Rome with the Art League, and were entertained with colorful details of the Vincent Show rehearsals which Marian Wiggin never missed, still, by the time they got to the stewed peaches, the conversation would have settled on the more trivial business of their lives — putting a new stair carpet down, the hiring of a new girl, how young Richard Wiggin compared with little Emily Ives.

All six ladies in the club had attended the Peabody School for Girls and, except for Irene Putnam whose diplomat father had been stationed in Turkey, and whose birthplace was Istanbul, all had been born in Boston.

The luncheon club met each Wednesday at a different house, except for the summer months when the families were in Maine, or at the Berkshires, or on the Cape. At Dolly Vernon’s house, they would be fed asparagus nearly grey from being so poached, and they had to fend off the dogs always at one’s elbow. Marian Wiggin set her table with good silver and bumpy embroidered linen and served rich sauces, creamed vegetables and foie gras. One could always count on Jane Ives for a simple soup and an adequate chicken. At Irene Putnam’s you might get something as elaborate as a spinach soufflé or else Irene would forget, and they’d make do with ham sandwiches. Lilian could never get Maureen to make anything more fancy than chipped beef or beef stew or mincemeat pie, which was perfectly fine with Lilian, so that’s what the ladies ate at her house.