you, he doesn’t care what people think.”
“Don’t deceive yourself. And people understand a good investment, art or no.” He sighed. “In any case, I thought you’d be pleased. It
is
art, of a sort.”
“I thought you cared nothing for art anymore.”
“It’s not that I care nothing for it so much as I care nothing for how foolish you make yourself over it.”
“You once thought my enthusiasm fascinating.”
“I once thought toy soldiers so as well. But eventually one must put aside childish things.”
I was wounded. But I reminded myself of my purpose, my vows, and I managed to keep my voice even as I said, “Why are you telling me all this, Nathan? What has your theater to do with me?”
“The playwright,” he said. “I mentioned him for a reason. He came to me with a play he wanted me to buy. Apparently the manager at the Regal is interested but has no ready cash.”
“And you do.”
Nathan nodded. “DeWitt did his research, I’ll give him that. Few enough people know of my involvement there.”
Carefully, because I wasn’t certain what Nathan wanted from me, I said, “A play. How interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting.” My husband’s tone was dry. “And if it proves to make money, it would be more interesting still. I thought perhaps you would take a look at it. You have an incomparable eye for this sort of thing, and I’m too busy just now to read it. I need you to advise me whether my money would be well spent.”
I felt a surge of excitement. Still, I was cautious. “Why, yes, of course. You know I’d be more than happy to read it.”
“It could be drivel,” Nathan warned.
“Even so. It’s something better than sitting here staring out the windows all day.”
A quick glance, though he made no comment. “I’ve invited him to dinner here tonight to discuss it.”
A playwright. To dinner. “Tonight? Oh … then … well, I’ve so much to do—”
“Try to contain yourself, Ginny,” Nathan said. “Remember what I need from you. This isn’t an invitation to return to your Chicago ways. I thought you would enjoy this, and I value your opinion when it comes to art. I’m trusting you won’t embarrass me. He’s poor as a church mouse, and he could use a good tailor. Just your kind, so don’t think I haven’t considered whether it would be wise for you to meet him at all.”
He’d worded it just precisely enough that I was ashamed. “Nathan, please. Have I not been on my best behavior these last months? Have I done anything the least bit untoward? Deliberately, I mean.”
Nathan hesitated. “Perhaps this is a mistake.”
“How could it be? It’s only dinner, isn’t it? You’ll be there, and I’ll meet him and read his play and tell you what I think. No one can complain of it.”
He considered me, and finally he nodded and put aside the newspaper. “Very well. I’ll be home at my usual time. I’ve told him to come at seven.” He rose, tossing his napkin to his chair. “Don’t make a pet of him, Ginny.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
Once Nathan left for the office, I was in a flurry of anticipation. I told myself that any playwright of worth wouldn’t be in Seattle. I told myself I would be lucky if he had a shred of talent. This could simply be a waste of time, one more pedestrian poet angling for a patron. I had known some like that in Chicago. Poor intellects, worse conversationalists. Only opportunists. Why should I think this Sebastian DeWitt would be anything different?
Still, I called in the cook and changed the menu for the evening. Still, I spent some time considering what would be the best gown to wear. This was no member of Seattle society; there was no need for the more sedate fashions they required. And so I chose one of my favorites, an off-the-shoulder gown in burgundy silk, with a low décolletage, heavy with gold and black embroidery. I wore rubies like plump tears and was satisfied with how their color set off my pale skin and
“Don’t deceive yourself. And people understand a good investment, art or no.” He sighed. “In any case, I thought you’d be pleased. It
is
art, of a sort.”
“I thought you cared nothing for art anymore.”
“It’s not that I care nothing for it so much as I care nothing for how foolish you make yourself over it.”
“You once thought my enthusiasm fascinating.”
“I once thought toy soldiers so as well. But eventually one must put aside childish things.”
I was wounded. But I reminded myself of my purpose, my vows, and I managed to keep my voice even as I said, “Why are you telling me all this, Nathan? What has your theater to do with me?”
“The playwright,” he said. “I mentioned him for a reason. He came to me with a play he wanted me to buy. Apparently the manager at the Regal is interested but has no ready cash.”
“And you do.”
Nathan nodded. “DeWitt did his research, I’ll give him that. Few enough people know of my involvement there.”
Carefully, because I wasn’t certain what Nathan wanted from me, I said, “A play. How interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting.” My husband’s tone was dry. “And if it proves to make money, it would be more interesting still. I thought perhaps you would take a look at it. You have an incomparable eye for this sort of thing, and I’m too busy just now to read it. I need you to advise me whether my money would be well spent.”
I felt a surge of excitement. Still, I was cautious. “Why, yes, of course. You know I’d be more than happy to read it.”
“It could be drivel,” Nathan warned.
“Even so. It’s something better than sitting here staring out the windows all day.”
A quick glance, though he made no comment. “I’ve invited him to dinner here tonight to discuss it.”
A playwright. To dinner. “Tonight? Oh … then … well, I’ve so much to do—”
“Try to contain yourself, Ginny,” Nathan said. “Remember what I need from you. This isn’t an invitation to return to your Chicago ways. I thought you would enjoy this, and I value your opinion when it comes to art. I’m trusting you won’t embarrass me. He’s poor as a church mouse, and he could use a good tailor. Just your kind, so don’t think I haven’t considered whether it would be wise for you to meet him at all.”
He’d worded it just precisely enough that I was ashamed. “Nathan, please. Have I not been on my best behavior these last months? Have I done anything the least bit untoward? Deliberately, I mean.”
Nathan hesitated. “Perhaps this is a mistake.”
“How could it be? It’s only dinner, isn’t it? You’ll be there, and I’ll meet him and read his play and tell you what I think. No one can complain of it.”
He considered me, and finally he nodded and put aside the newspaper. “Very well. I’ll be home at my usual time. I’ve told him to come at seven.” He rose, tossing his napkin to his chair. “Don’t make a pet of him, Ginny.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
Once Nathan left for the office, I was in a flurry of anticipation. I told myself that any playwright of worth wouldn’t be in Seattle. I told myself I would be lucky if he had a shred of talent. This could simply be a waste of time, one more pedestrian poet angling for a patron. I had known some like that in Chicago. Poor intellects, worse conversationalists. Only opportunists. Why should I think this Sebastian DeWitt would be anything different?
Still, I called in the cook and changed the menu for the evening. Still, I spent some time considering what would be the best gown to wear. This was no member of Seattle society; there was no need for the more sedate fashions they required. And so I chose one of my favorites, an off-the-shoulder gown in burgundy silk, with a low décolletage, heavy with gold and black embroidery. I wore rubies like plump tears and was satisfied with how their color set off my pale skin and
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