“I think so,” Andrew said. “Unless you’re twelve. Then you get five times.”
... and then virtually panicking, when she went under for the third time.
“What happened was I think when I hit the water the breath got knocked out of me and I was a little stunned for a few seconds, which is why I sucked in water. Then I started choking and coughing, and I sucked in even more water and all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe! I was never so scared in my life. Well, once before actually. When Luis yanked me out of the way of that taxi.”
“Who’s Luis?” Andrew asked.
“The doorman at our building.”
“Where’s that?”
“East Eighty-First. I was crossing the street when this cab zoomed around the corner and almost ran me over. If it wasn’t for Luis, I wouldn’t have been, alive today for you to save me.”
“I think you ought to send Mr. Farrell a dozen roses every year at this time,” Sarah said.
“Andrew,” he corrected. “And I think the opposite would be better. This is the first time I’ve ever saved anyone’s life.”
“My hero!” Mollie said broadly, and rolled her eyes in a mock swoon.
“Mrs. Welles? Another drink?”
“Sarah,” she corrected. “Are you having one?”
“I am,” Mollie said.
“Let’s all have another,” Andrew said.
“Let’s,” Sarah said.
“Does anyone call you Sadie?” he asked.
“Sadie? Oh my God, no.”
“Isn’t that a nickname for Sarah?”
“I suppose so. But Sadie?” she said, and turned to Mollie. “Can you visualize me as a Sadie?”
“Sounds like a shopping-bag lady,” Mollie said.
“How about Sassy?” Andrew asked.
“Me? Sassy?”
“That’s Sarah Vaughan’s nickname.”
“Who’s Sarah Vaughan?” Mollie asked.
“A singer,” Andrew said.
“Sounds like a stripper,” Mollie said. “Sassy.”
“Does anyone ever call you Andy?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess it just doesn’t fit.”
“Sometimes Mom calls me Millicent,” Mollie said, and pulled a face. “When she’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
“Because Mollie’s a nickname for Millicent.”
“But is that your full name? Millicent?”
“Hell, no,” Mollie said. “I know,” she said at once to Sarah, “that’s a dime.” And then, to Andrew, “When I was little, they used to charge me a dime every time I cursed.”
“Didn’t work, though,” Sarah said. “As you can see.”
They went in to dinner at a quarter past eight. Mollie and Sarah ordered the lobster medallions with kiwi fruit and Andrew asked the waiter what the coulommier was, and ordered it when he learned it was cheese in puff pastry. For her main course, Mollie ordered the lamb in green pepper sauce — “Medium rare, please” — and both Sarah and Michael ordered the grouper fricassee. For no good reason, Sarah suddenly remembered her sister’s running gag about wanting to fricassee the one with the white hair. Unconsciously, she looked at Andrew’s ears to see if they really were big, and then turned away when he noticed her studying him.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I should have asked your sister to join us.”
“She’s gone,” Sarah said. “How’d you know...?”
“You look a lot...”
“Aunt Heather’s getting a divorce,” Mollie said.
“Too bad,” Andrew said.
“Uncle Doug’s got a bimbo.”
“Mollie’s had too many drinks,” Sarah said, and smiled.
Andrew smiled back.
“They don’t have any alcohol in them, Mom,” Mollie said.
“Good thing.”
“Anyway, he knows what a bimbo is.”
“Sure,” Andrew said. “It’s a tropical drink.”
“Mr. Farr-ell!”
“Cross between the limbo and the marimba.”
“Maybe I’m drinking one,” Mollie said, and peered into her glass, and then looked up sharply and said, “Those aren’t drinks.”
“Really?” Andrew said, and winked again.
Mollie winked back.
“So what are you guys doing down here?” Andrew asked. “Besides drowning.”
“We’re all on vacation. That’s Grandma’s house we’re staying in. Daddy couldn’t come ’cause he had work to do.”
“That’s a shame.”
“He’ll be down on New Year’s Eve.”
“Or maybe sooner,” Sarah said. “I hope.”
“What does he do?”
In the early days of their marriage, when Michael was a rookie ADA, she had learned quickly enough that it was frequently best not to broadcast the fact that he worked for the District Attorney’s office. As an example, they would often be at parties where pot was being passed around. This wasn’t even a crime, it was a mere violation, but what was an ADA to do in such circumstances? Walk away from it? In which case, people would mutter, “Some District Attorney’s office we’ve got!” Make an arrest at the scene? “Some chicken-shit jackass Michael Welles is!” When asked, she’d learned simply to say, “Michael’s a lawyer.” If pressed, she would say, “He works downtown.” If pressed further, she would say, “He works for the city.” And if forced against the wall, she would say, “He’s the city’s corporate counsel on civil suits,” an outright lie. Later on, when Michael began investigating criminals who would as soon shoot you as blink at you, he’d cautioned her specifically against the danger of mentioning he was an ADA. Mollie knew the routine. Together, they went through the drill now.
“He’s a lawyer,” Sarah said.
“Works downtown,” Mollie said.
“For the city,” Sarah said.
“Mom’s a teacher,” Mollie said, changing the subject.
“Where do you teach?” Andrew asked.
“The Greer Academy,” Sarah said.
“That’s a preppie school for girl nerds,” Mollie said.
“Where do you go to school?”
“Hanover.”
“That’s what you get if you drink too many bimbos,” he said. “A hanover.”
Mollie giggled.
“What subject do you teach?” he asked.
“Me?” Mollie asked.
“English,” Sarah said.
“Where’s that? The Greer Academy?”
“Sixtieth and Park.”
“Near Christ Church,” Mollie said.
“I thought you were an actress,” Andrew said. “Or a model.”
“Me?” Mollie asked.
“You, too,” Andrew said, and smiled.
Sarah wondered if she was blushing.
“Are you here on vacation, too?” she asked.
“Business,” he said. “I leave tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, nooo,” Mollie said, and grimaced.
“Shall we order some wine?” Andrew asked. “Would anyone...?”
“How stupid of me,” Sarah said, and signaled to the waiter. “I meant what I said, you know. You’re our guest tonight.”
“No way,” he said.
“Please let us, Andrew.”
This was the first time she’d used his name. She would remember later that the first time she used his name was when they were discussing who would pay the check.
“Well... okay,” he said.
“Good,” Sarah said, and signaled to the waiter.
“A Chardonnay might be nice,” Mollie suggested, and grinned at Andrew and batted her lashes again.