Tales of the City 06 - Sure of You

you know the Rands?” she asked Burke pleasantly.
    “Oh, you know,” he replied. “Through friends.”
    She started to tell him about meeting them at Prue’s, but changed her mind in fear that they wouldn’t remember her. If they did remember her and remarked on it, her silence at this point would simply come off as self-effacing. It was better to keep her mouth shut.
    As Brian swung the Mercedes into Redwood Alley, she gazed out the window at a gaggle of operagoers heading up the sidewalk toward the restaurant. Who among her associates, she wondered, might see her there tonight with the Rands?
    It was almost too delicious to imagine.

    The cavernous elegance of Stars never failed to seduce her. To enter this room full of feverish chatter and French poster art was to feel at one with a living tableau, something from the twenties, maybe, and certainly not from here. If you squinted your eyes just so, the illusion was more than enough to transport you.
    As she had already envisioned, the Rands were imperially positioned on the platform at the end of the room. Chloe was in red leather tonight, her shoulders pale as milk under the stained-glass chandeliers. Russell looked wonderfully Duke of Windsorish in a herringbone Norfolk jacket. Where had they been, anyway? The opera? Another party?
    Chloe saw them first. She wiggled her fingers at Burke, then tilted her cheek to be kissed when he reached the table. “You’re so sweet to do this,” she said.
    Burke kissed her, then clapped Russell amiably on the shoulder. Russell smiled at him for a moment, then turned his gaze toward Mary Ann. “Did we sabotage your dinner?” he asked, as if they had known each other forever.
    “Oh, no,” she replied, “not at all.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. Really.”
    “Aren’t there some more?” asked Chloe.
    “They’re coming later,” she said, “in another car.”
    “This is Mary Ann Singleton,” said Burke.
    “Yes, I know,” said Russell. “I think we’ve met.”
    “You have?” asked Burke.
    “Russell, Chloe…” Secure in her identity again, Mary Ann felt a warming rush of self-assurance. “This is my husband, Brian.”
    Brian and Russell shook hands. Then Brian and Chloe. “Please,” said Russell cordially, “sit down, everybody.”
    “When did you guys meet?” Burke asked her, taking the chair next to Chloe.
    “At Prue Giroux’s.”
    “What’s that?”
    Chloe smirked. “I don’t think you wanna know.”
    Russell gave his wife a brief, admonishing glance.
    So, thought Mary Ann, she hates her too. Things were looking better all the time.
    “She’s kind of a local party girl,” Brian told Burke.
    “Yeah,” Mary Ann said dryly. “Kind of.” This was just enough, she felt, to let Chloe know she concurred without causing Russell further distress. Prue, after all, had been buying his dresses for years. She could see why Russell wouldn’t want to appear disloyal. He had no way of knowing, really, which of these people might blab to Prue.
    “I’m a real idiot,” Russell told Burke. “When you told me about her, I just didn’t make the connection.”
    At first Mary Ann thought he meant Prue. Then it occurred to her that Burke must have briefed the Rands about the local talk-show hostess he wanted for his new venture. In a moment of abject panic, she realized that Russell was dangerously close to spilling the beans.
    “O.K.,” said Chloe. “Who needs a drink? Let’s see if we can rustle up a waiter for these people.”
    “Uh…right,” said Russell. “Of course.”
    He had the unmistakable look of someone who had just been given a swift kick under the table.

    Half an hour later, in the john, Chloe said: “Look, I’m sorry about ol’ dummy out there. Burke told him not to bring up the talk-show stuff.”
    “It’s no problem,” said Mary Ann. “Really.”
    “Have you told him yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    Chloe fixed her lips in front of the mirror. “It’s a fabulous opportunity.”
    “Yeah. I know.”
    “Burke is so smart. He really is. I don’t think you can go wrong with him.” She blotted her lips together once or twice, then turned and cocked her head apologetically. “Sorry. I know it’s none of my business.”
    “No,” said Mary Ann. “That’s O.K.”
    “It’s scary to move, isn’t it? Gets you right in the gut. I felt that way exactly when Russell asked me to marry him. I mean, I knew what a life it could be, but all I could think of was how foreign