“Bridget, honey, how nice,” she said, kissing the air around my head. A heavy gold ring clinked against her champagne flute.
“Thank you for having me,” I said.
A raindrop fell into the bowl of Mrs. LeBaron’s glass and she frowned up at the darkening clouds. A strong, sweet gust of wet grass and warm clay rose from the earth. “Why don’t you go upstairs and see the girls? Sophie will take her time getting ready.”
“My mother is here,” I said, glancing behind me at Mama, who was lingering in the kitchen, admiring, or pretending to admire, a refrigerator magnet in the shape of a banana.
“We can take care of your momma,” she said. “Why don’t you go on and join the girls upstairs?”
I gestured for Mama to step into the garden, and she followed, wobbling as her heels sank into the grass. “Bye,” I said, hurrying past her, deliberately not looking behind me. I didn’t want to watch Mama try to make conversation. I didn’t want to spark that feeling I got sometimes, watching her try. It was a queasy and pitiful feeling, like finding a drowned butterfly in a baby pool. I started up the oak staircase, following the sound of chatter to the first landing and toward a room on the right. I passed an oil portrait of Mrs. LeBaron, chinoiserie vases filled with white roses, a taxidermied bear cub holding an ashtray. Softly, I knocked on Sophie’s door, then poked my head around. The room was large, with canary yellow wallpaper. Isabella was hunched over on a window seat, wearing a mint green dress with a sweetheart collar, the tan lines from her bathing suit pale against her neck. Sophie was in peach silk, like her mother. She was curling her eyelashes with concentration at a Perspex vanity. The twins, Alison and Meredith Graham, were in sky blue tulle, kneeling on a sheepskin rug, and Alison was brushing Meredith’s hair. I surveyed the room for chandeliers, seams in the carpet that indicated it might be rolled back. Sophie’s bedspread was decked in ruffles, and in pride of place in the center, I was relieved to see a teddy bear with a red heart patched onto its stomach. On the walls were mawkish illustrations of rosy-cheeked girls skiing somewhere wholesome, perhaps Canada. The air in the room was dry and cool, and it took a moment before I realized that the machine in the window ruffling Isabella’s dress was an electric air-conditioning unit.
“Hello,” I said from the doorway.
Eleanor looked up at me. Her dress was so close to the shade of the wallpaper that I hadn’t registered her. She sat cross-legged on the floor with a book spread out on her knee. Rookie, I thought. Even I knew better than to bring a book to a party.
“Bridget’s here, at last!” Eleanor shouted, as if they had all been waiting for me. I could have hugged her then, book or no book.
Sophie gave me a smile in the mirror. “Welcome.” As I went over, she planted a kiss on my cheek.
“Happy birthday!” I said.
“Thanks.” Sophie tossed her hand as if birthdays were nothing but a tiresome facade.
There was a moment of silence while everyone surveyed my outfit. I smoothed down my dress with my palms. Rhona had generously called it “dove,” although it was apparent now that it was closer to pigeon.
“Briddie.” Isabella patted the window seat, and I obeyed. She was breathing on the window and doodling in the steam. “You’re late,” she said, with the hint of a pout.
“Sorry,” I said.
Alison and Meredith abandoned their hairdressing and joined Sophie at the mirror, licking their fingers and smudging down their eyebrows. I saw then they were all carrying velvet cases heavy with lipstick and rouge. Eleanor joined the girls at the back and began fixing her earrings. My cheeks grew hot. I hadn’t known to arrive in a state of strategic undress.
“Would you like some hairspray?” Sophie said, catching my eye in the mirror. Even as I was shaking my head, I knew I should have said yes.
“It smells heavenly. It’s Oriental Pearl.”
Meredith nudged Alison in the ribs, then giggled, covering her teeth. They both looked at me.
Heat prickled over my breastbone. Were they laughing because I didn’t use hairspray? Because I didn’t smell heavenly? Rhona had let me use her Youth-Dew; maybe that was the wrong kind of perfume?
“Oriental Pearl. Like you,” Meredith said eventually.
I looked to Sophie for help, but she dropped her eyes to the carpet.
“I’ve never been to the Orient,” I said stiffly.
Alison wrinkled her nose, like I was spoiling their fun. “The other one, then,” she said, shrugging.
Meredith giggled again. “Maybe the spray would make half of you invisible.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. I had the sense the insult was moving too fast for me to catch hold of it. My stomach lurched as if I were jumping down a playground slide.
“You know”—I put my face against the window—“I think Matty just lit up a cigar,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure that Matty was even there. Or which one he would be. Through the condensation all I could see of the boys was a hazy prep school rubric: pasty faces floating above piped jackets.
“No,” Sophie gasped. “Did my mom see?”
“She’s sharing it,” I said.
Isabella burst out laughing.
Sophie looked from me to Isabella. “Bridge. You monster.”
Isabella squeezed my arm. I smiled at her, though my face was tight.
“What a shame about the weather,” I said, trying to approximate the right tone of mature refinement.
Sophie sighed and, nudging Alison out of the way, took a seat on the edge of her bed. “This whole party was my mom’s idea. I told her we should have rented the club. Whoever heard of a sweet seventeen anyway?”
“Your cotillion party is all that matters, right, Soph?” Isabella said. She tapped her ring finger meaningfully.
Sophie smiled at her with performative bashfulness. “Don’t jinx it, Izzy. Just because your mom wants to lock you away ’til you’re twenty-one.”
Isabella chewed her fingernail. “Let her try.”
“Is your mom here?” Alison said to me.
I nodded.
Alison and Meredith exchanged a glance. “Can we see her?”
I licked my lips. “I don’t think she could stay long.” I crossed my fingers under my skirt, hoping against every last hope that Mama had already left.
“Ignore her, Bridge.” Sophie leaned over and squeezed my hand. The move was so fluid, so assured, I suddenly realized they must have been talking about me before I came in.
Sophie was still holding my wrist. “Anyway, I swear you couldn’t tell.” She gave me an exaggerated wink.