Page 24 of Old Money
I scurried over and Barbara put an arm around my shoulder.
“Alice, would you please escort your cousin to the cloakroom?” she asked. “I would, but I fear the humiliation would kill her.”
She reached out with her satin clutch, playfully whacking Caitlin’s arm. Caitlin suppressed a grin, rolled her eyes, then cracked.
“Ugh.”Caitlin groaned, dropping her head back. “Such a drama queen, Mommy!”
She shrugged the shawl off with a performative sigh and took my hand. Aunt Barbara waved us toward the cloakroom, blowing a kiss.
“I thought nonwhite accessories were okay,” I said, as Caitlin guided us through the crowd.
I looked back, searching for Mom’s face. She normally kept close tabs on us at the club, but when I caught her eye across the room, I could tell she wasn’t worried. I was with Caitlin.
“What?” Caitlin said after a pause. “Sorry, did you say something?”
She was scanning the crowd too, I realized. Looking for Patrick. My stomach did a giddy flip.
“The shawl,” I said, gesturing to the offending pink accessory draped over her arm.
“Oh,” she said, paying attention now. “Well, technically no, they’re not allowed. But literally no one cares except my darling mother. Oh, and him.” She smirked, nodding toward the corner of the lobby. “He cares. ‘Dear Mr. Brody.’ ”
I followed her gaze. He was standing apart from the crowd, hands behind his back, in his formal vest and jacket. He looked more formal than the guests.
“He hates me,” I said, thinking of the putrid scowl he’d given me the last time we’d crossed paths. Susannah and I had been in the break room doing the assigned reading fromGreat Expectations, with our feet propped up on a metal folding chair. Mr. Brody had spotted us from the hall and made some icy comment about our grotesque manners. Thinking about it made my back go straight.
“Oh, honey,” Caitlin guffawed. “He hates us all.”
We found the cloakroom unattended, and all the racks empty.
“In July?Quel surprise,” Caitlin said, poking her head in. “Guess we’ll have to fend for ourselves.”
She stepped into the little room and took a hanger off the nearest rack.
“Shit,”a small voice whispered behind me, making me jump.
I whirled around, relieved, then irritated. It was only Jamie Burger.
“Oh my God, don’t sneak up on people!” I snapped at him.
“I wasn’t!” Jamie whined back.
He was dressed in an odd, cobbled-together outfit, comprised of his school jacket, a dress shirt that must have belonged to his dad, and a pair of dark wool trousers. His forehead was prickled with sweat, and his obvious discomfort made me more conscious of my own ill-fitting dress, squeezing tight with every breath.
“Hi,” Jamie said to Caitlin. “I can help you.”
He stepped into the doorway, glancing at me sideways—already being weird.
“I’m sorry, do you work here?” Caitlin asked, a slight amusement in her voice.
“Not usually, I’m just helping tonight,” Jamie babbled. “The coat person was sick, I think? My dad works here—but not at parties, he does maintenance. He’ll get me later, but I get to stay for the fireworks.”
He paused, staring at Caitlin like a stunned deer.
“I hung my shawl here.” She gestured slowly to the rack. “Hope that’s okay, Jamie?”
Jamie’s whole face had gone pink now, so bright and blotchy on his freckled skin that it looked like he had a rash. Caitlin gave him a moment to find his words, then smiled.
“Great.” She pointed to the doorway he was blocking. “We’ll let you get back to work.”
