“That’s right, you did. Well, you would’ve liked Jimmy Hammond. He was in the army, too. And there were a whole lot of people around. I just thought you’d have liked to come.”
“I certainly would’ve but I didn’t remember your inviting me.”
“That’s all right,” said Caroline, drinking her grapefruit juice and making a face as she did. “God, but this stuff is sour.”
Marjorie Ventusa, having cleaned the shiny black table-top cleaner than it had ever been before, turned to another table. She was still close enough to hear what they said.
“What did you do last night, Bobby?” She called him Bobby. Marjorie Ventusa wondered if she would ever be able to call him that.
“Not a thing. I went home to bed early.”
“Next time I’ll send you an engraved invitation when I want you to come to the house.”
“You do that. What time’s it getting to be?”
Caroline looked at the clock. “It’s not much after eight-thirty. Let’s take our time.”
“We don’t want to be too late.”