Page 53 of The Happy Month

Olive smiled. She wore a navy dress with a large rhinestone brooch. Hooked in her elbows was a mink stole—though it was anything but chilly.

A waiter arrived with the drinks they’d ordered. The men appeared to be having some kind of highball, while the women had ordered grasshoppers. When everyone was served, the waiter asked Patrick, “Can I get you cocktails?”

“I’ll have a rye and ginger,” Vera said.

“Scotch and water,” Patrick said.

The menus were waiting in front of them. Patrick perused his while Roland asked Bernie, “So, how are you finding Los Angeles?”

“Everything’s so far apart,” Rachel answered for her husband.

“That’s the American dream,” Roland said. “Space.”

“You’ve certainly got that,” Bernie said. It was clear to Patrick he wouldn’t be joining the firm. If he were, he and his wife would be talking about the sunshine and the constant warmth.

The overlooked Olive must have picked up on the unease, because she asked, “What’s everyone having? It all looks so good.”

“I’m having the calf’s liver,” Roland said.

“Of course, you are dear.”

“Well, you won’t cook it at home.”

“It smells up the whole house. I’m thinking the Pompano Beatrice.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Catherine said.

“Is the seafood here any good?” Rachel asked.

“Rachel went to Brandeis,” Bernie said proudly. “The seafood in Boston is incredible.” Then to his wife he suggested, “Maybe the chicken curry with bananas. You’d like that. I’m thinking the creamed turkey, myself.”

Patrick and Vera’s drinks arrived. Vera said, “Thank you.”

“Ladies, save some room,” Olive said. “They have fresh spinach ice cream. Nonfattening.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Roland said. “Don’t want any of you girls turning into Popeye. Especially you Olive.”

That got a chuckle from his wife.

Vera took a pack of Parliaments and a lighter out of her purse. Rachel glanced at them and asked, “Oh, what are those?”

“Parliaments. They have a filter. ‘Only the flavor touches your lips,’” she said, quoting their slogan.

“So you don’t get tobacco on your lips? I hate that. Can I try one?”

“Of course.” She held out the pack of cigarettes. Rachel took one and Vera lit it for her.

After inhaling, Rachel said, “Oh it’s very mild.” She smiled at Vera and sipped her grasshopper.

“I like this fellow Nixon,” Roland said. “We need politicians like that, unafraid to go after communist spies.”

It was obvious to Patrick that the comment was meant for the men at the table. He could see Roland bristle when Vera replied. “Oh, but I feel sorry for Mr. Hiss. I mean, the whole thing is ridiculous. Who hides important documents in a pumpkin? I mean, it makes no sense.”

“And where would you hide classified documents, young lady?”

“It depends on who I’m hiding them from.”

“Imagine I’m the FBI and I’m coming to search your house.”