Sham Rock
“Huge. A wonderful place in which to entertain, dinners, cocktail parities, informal little seminars with artists, writers, politicians. Financial advisers. She threw back her head and directed smoke at the ceiling. When she bent over an ashtray to stub out her cigarette, her eyes went around the vast, beautifully furnished living room. Not much of a view, unless you liked reservoirs and the endless construction work on the Museum of Modern Art. She didn’t have to close her eyes to imagine Dave ...Williams on his feet before that bookcase, speaking with quiet authority to the half-dozen people she had gathered to hear him. How possessive she had felt. And with good reason.
“Who advises you now?” he had asked her over lunch the first time they had seen one another since South Bend. Mame felt she was recapturing an earlier role.
She liked the way he frowned when she told him she had left things in the hands of Wilfrid’s advisers.
“Wilfrid?”
“My husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”MoreLess
“Who advises you now?” he had asked her over lunch the first time they had seen one another since South Bend. Mame felt she was recapturing an earlier role.
She liked the way he frowned when she told him she had left things in the hands of Wilfrid’s advisers.
“Wilfrid?”
“My husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”MoreLess
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