New York - The Novel

to see.”
    “I’m embarrassed. I’ve never done a sketch before.” But he wouldn’t be denied, and took the sketch pad from her.
    Opening the pad, he stared at the drawings. He stared at them quite intently.
    “You really looked, didn’t you?” he said.
    “I suppose so.”
    “Look, Gretchen.” He showed the drawings to his sister. “Look at what she did.” Gretchen nodded. Mary could see they were both impressed. “They’re good, Mary,” he said. “You try to draw, not what you think you should see, but what you really see.”
    “I don’t know,” said Mary, pleased, but not sure what to do with this flattery.
    “You have an artist’s eye,” he said. “It’s rare, you know.”
    “Oh.” Mary almost blushed.
    Gretchen stood up.
    “Come on,” she said. “Let’s walk back.”
    They ate a little in the middle of the day, and while they did so, Theodore spoke again of Mary’s drawing of the doe. “She should sketch here every day,” he said to his sister.
    In the afternoon, Mary and Gretchen changed into their matchingswimming dresses again. This time, Theodore joined them. His swimming suit covered most of his body, but Mary could see his manly form. He was in a playful mood. He splashed both the girls in the water, and they laughed. Then Mary fell down when a wave hit her, and he helped her up, and Mary felt his strong arm holding hers for a moment. It seemed to Mary that Gretchen was looking a bit put out, so when they came out of the sea, Mary sat down beside her and told Theodore: “Now you leave us girls alone.” So Theodore went for a walk along the beach, and Mary put her arm round Gretchen’s shoulder, and talked to her for a while until Gretchen was in a better mood.
    “Do you remember how you got me my job with the Masters?” she said. “I never knew you could lie like that, Gretchen. I was quite shocked.”
    “I didn’t lie.”
    “Saying my father, God rest his soul, was going to get married to a widow with a house of her own?”
    “I only said ‘
If
he got married.’ I never said it was going to happen.”
    “You’re a monster.”
    “I am,” said Gretchen, and smiled.
    When Theodore returned, they all went back to the inn. Gretchen asked Theodore if he was going back to the city now, but he said no, he thought he might stay another day.
    After they’d changed and dressed, they went downstairs, and for a while Gretchen and Mary played cards with some of the other guests. Theodore was sitting in an armchair deep in a book. The weather was still sultry, and the fall of the cards seemed slow. Two days of sea air and exercise had made Mary feel wonderfully relaxed. “I could just laze around and do nothing all week,” she said to Gretchen. And her friend smiled and said, “Good. Because this week, nothing is all you’re supposed to do.”
    The evening meal passed much as before; there was quiet talk and laughter, and by the end of it, the food and wine and sea air left Mary with such a delicious sense of ease that she whispered to Gretchen: “I think I had too much to drink.”
    “We’d better walk along the beach then,” said Gretchen. “Clear your head.”
    So when people finally got up from the tables, Mary and Gretchen, with Theodore between them, walked by the sea together, and they all three linked arms, and Theodore began to hum a little march. It felt verynice, Mary thought, having her arm linked in Theodore’s, and she couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if they were all one family, and she were married to Theodore and Gretchen was her sister-in-law. She knew it was impossible, of course, but she’d had a bit too much to drink and sometimes, she thought, you can’t help thinking of things.
    The sun was still some way above the sea when they came back to the inn. A few people, tired like themselves, were starting to turn in; others were sitting on the porch, waiting to watch the sunset. But Mary was still a little light-headed, so she said she’d better turn in. Theodore said goodnight, and Gretchen came up to the room with her.
    The soft evening light was coming through the window as they changed into their nightdresses. Mary tumbled into bed and lay staring up at the ceiling, which seemed to be moving, ever so slightly. Gretchen came over and sat on her bed.
    “You’re drunk,” she said.
    “Only a little,” said Mary.
    After a little pause, Gretchen said, “I wish Theodore would go.”
    “Don’t say that,” said