The Groaning Board

Laura Lee stuck a
finger in her open mouth, then waved goodbye to Wetzon.
    “This is so nice, Hem,” Wetzon said.
She tried out Smith’s technique of batting her eyelashes at him. It must have
worked, because he leaned in to her, or rather, in to her breasts. They sat on
a polished wooden bench and she, following Laura Lee’s instructions, made mushy
on her plate. “Someone told me... now who was it... that you and my friend
Sheila Gelber were... in the getting-acquainted stage.”
    Hem almost dropped his glass. “Well,
I... not really...”
    Across the room Bill caught her eye.
He was surrounded by several smart-looking, thin women in short linen shifts
and fat pearls. Their slim arms were tanned, their legs glossy in sheer hose.
Wetzon pursed her lips at him and he laughed. The women turned to look.
    To Hem, Wetzon said, “Oh, dear, maybe
I heard wrong. Was there nothing between you and Sheila?”
    Hem watched her move the food around
on her plate. “I thought I could help her out—you know—put her in business. It
was Mickey’s idea. She felt she’d gotten Sheila all excited about going into
this gluten-free baking business, then A.T. put the kibosh on it. Micklynn was
a decent person—” He stopped talking and jumped up, his attention on the open
kitchen, where suddenly it had gotten very quiet.
    Minnie Wu was standing still at the
center island, ignoring the fire under her woks and pots. She rounded the
island and bore down on Hem and Wetzon, murder in her eyes. Steam from the
stove gave the illusion it was coming from her.
    “Excuse me a minute,” Hem told Wetzon
hastily. “I see Min needs some help.” He gave Wetzon a nervous smile, and went
to head off the fire-breathing dragon.
    Wetzon didn’t hang around. She was
beginning to think she shouldn’t have come. She loathed these people. Neither
A.T. nor Ellen was here. One would have thought Ellen and Min had made up their
differences in the rowboat in Central Park, where the adoption of Ellen’s unborn
child must have been discussed. But Minnie nursed grudges, not children.
    Sighing, Wetzon set her plate of food
under the bench, pushing it well back with the heel of her shoe.
    “You’re not eating,” Minnie Wu said.
“Don’t you like my cooking?”
    Wetzon stood up. “It’s not that.”
    “Oh, I see, maybe it’s my husband you
like.” Min’s matte black eyes wouldn’t let Wetzon go. “Women who like my
husband live to regret it.”
    “Oh, please, cut the melodrama.
Strange as it may seem, I am not at all interested in your husband. Why don’t
you tell him to stay away from me? ”
    “Min, sweetie, so nice!” Smith
grabbed Minnie’s hand, which was raised to give Wetzon a mighty slap, and
pumped it enthusiastically, sending Wetzon an urgent get-out-of-here message.
    The bitch ought to attack her
libidinous husband, Wetzon thought. Simmering, she moved across the room toward
Bill. Laura Lee caught up with her.
    “Laura Lee, look at these women.
There’s not a soft line among them. They all look... well... varnished.”
    “It’s okay to eat dessert,” Laura Lee
said. “A.T. and Ellen made it.” She handed Wetzon a cup.
    “What’s this?”
    “Rice pudding. Seems just-your-Bill
gave A.T. a special request for you. Oh, dear, I forgot the spoon.”
    “ ’S all right. I’ll be rude.” Wetzon
dipped the tip of her finger in the rice pudding and tasted it. Not bad.
“Listen, Laura Lee, Minnie Wu is certifiable. This is the last time I’m going
to come anywhere near her. Or Hem, for that matter.” They drifted over to Bill,
who was talking to two horsey-looking women with manes of sun-streaked hair. He
didn’t see Wetzon and Laura Lee stop behind him.
    “When will you be up?” one woman
asked. “We’re going on the first, if I can tear Alfred away from his precious
office.“
    “Evelyn leaves tomorrow, and I’ll
come up around the fifteenth.”
    “Well, we’ll all be waiting for you.
Everyone says the real fun on the Vineyard doesn’t start till Bill Veeder
favors us with the last two weeks of the summer.”
    It was unlikely that Wetzon gasped,
but she must have made some small painful sound, for Laura Lee touched her
hand, relieving her of the cup of rice pudding before she dropped it. Or threw
it. And Bill Veeder, turning, looked stunned.
    Wetzon pulled away from Laura Lee.
She wanted to leave, hide.
    “Leslie.” He came after her. “Wait.
Let me explain.” He cornered her near the staircase, but she