“The Van Horns?” Charlie asked blankly. She sounded like a madwoman as she spewed gossip and details of a situation that completely bemused him. She was talking about some woman whose husband had left her who had apparently been a Van Horn. It all sounded more than a little crazy to Charlie, as she looked at him as though he were completely stupid.
“The Van Horns. I was talking about the Van Horn girl. Wasn't that who I just saw you with when I walked over?” She looked at him as though he were demented, and then suddenly as he looked at her, he realized what she was saying. He felt as though he had been struck by lightning.
“Of course. I'm sorry. I was distracted. Miss Van Horn, of course.”
“Are you two seeing each other?” she asked him boldly. Women like her had no shame about asking questions. They thrived on gathering information to use later to impress others that they were insiders in the social group, though more often than not they weren't. They were acquainted with the “right” people, but disliked by all.
“We're business connections,” he said, nodding. “The foundation has been involved with her children's center. They're doing a great job with abused children. What was her married name, by the way? Do you remember?”
“Wasn't it Mosley? Or Mossey? Something like that. Dreadful man. He made an absolute fortune. I think he married a girl even younger than Carole after her. It's a shame it shook her so badly.”
“His name wasn't Parker, was it?” Charlie was now a man on a mission. He wanted to know the truth, from whatever source he got it. Even from the likes of this repulsive social climber.
“Of course not. That's her mother's maiden name. The Parker Bank, in Boston. Not quite as big as the Van Horn fortune, but very handsome. Nice for Carole she has two fortunes to inherit from, not just one. Some people are just born lucky,” she said, as Charlie nodded, and he saw Carole approaching. It was easy to spot her in the crowd in high heels, and he signaled to her that he would join her where she was, as he thanked his informant and departed. He had discovered so many lies in the past two days, that he no longer knew what to believe about Carole.
“I'm sorry I left you with that awful woman. I figured if I stuck around, she'd stay forever. Did she chew your ear off?”
“Yes,” he said succinctly.
“She always does. She's the biggest gossip in New York, all she ever talks about is who married who, who someone's grandfather was, and how much money they inherited or made. God knows where she gets her information. I just can't stand her.” He nodded, and they followed the crowd back to their seats. The curtain went up immediately, and Charlie sat, leaning away from her, looking wooden. Carole's fatal flaw, he had discovered in the past few days, was not the obvious one that she came from a different world, and a simple background, and was uncomfortable in his world, or even that she was a fraud, as he had thought on Wednesday. Her fatal flaw, as it turned out, was a much simpler one. She was a liar.
When the performance ended and the curtain went up, she smiled at him, and thanked him.
“It was really lovely. Thank you, Charlie. I loved it.”
“I'm glad,” he said politely. He had promised to take her to dinner afterward, but he no longer wanted to. What he had to say to her he didn't want to say in public. He suggested they go back to his apartment. She smiled at the suggestion, and said she could make him scrambled eggs. He nodded, and barely managed to make idle chitchat with her on the short ride back to his apartment. She had no idea what was wrong with him that night, but it was very obvious to her that he was upset about something. And she didn't have long to wait to find out what it was.
He opened the front door for her, turned the lights on, strode into the living room with her following him, and didn't even bother to sit down. He turned to face her with a look of outrage.
“Just what exactly did you think you've been doing all this time with all your goddamn pretentious bullshit about not liking eating clubs and the social scene, and people with money? Why the hell did you lie to me? You're not just some simple girl who devoted herself to slaving away to save the poor in Harlem. You come from the same world I do, you went to the same school I did. You're doing the same things I am for the same reasons I am, and you're every goddamn bit as rich as I am, Miss Van Horn, so don't give me any more lofty bullshit about how uncomfortable and ill at ease you are in my world.”
