The Last Secret by Mary Mcgarry Morris Read Free Book Online

plate is gone. She can't remember if she ate anything. Sweat leaks down her ribs, skinny getting skinnier. Her diamonds feel jagged against her throat.
    “I've thought about helping out,” Bibbi says between fluttery finger waves and lightning-flash smiles at passing dancers, sweeping by as they reach out to touch the treasured woman. “But I don't think I've quite got the stomach for it. Some things I'd rather not know.” She cringes. “I admire you, though, Nora. Honestly, all that you do there.”
    “I don't do anything.” Buoyed by the dreamy quality of her voice, she lifts her empty glass, and their waitress returns with another gin and tonic. “I just provide them with the Hammond family name and see to it they get all the publicity they need. What I am,” she declares between pensive sips, “is Father Grewley's shill … his shield of social importance … if you'll allow the alliteration!” Her laughter is too sudden, and ragged.
    Bibbi glances at Donald, busily scraping the last morsels of au jus-soaked gratiné before Stephen's return. She leans close. “Nora.”
    “What? What is it, Bibbi? What do you want to say? I don't think this is quite the right place though for … for what? What would you call it, Bibbi? What? What game is this? What—”
    “It's not a game,” Bibbi says in a low, urgent voice. “And I know how you feel.”
    Nora bursts into deep liberating laughter. It is all very, very funny. She keeps wiping tears from her eyes. Not only funny but ridiculous. After all, what does tough-ass Nora Trimble expect? Nothing changes. No one changes. “We just get to be better liars!” She explodes with wheezy laughter. She looks around. Some remarkable observation has just been made, though in the next bewildering moment it is lost.
    “Nora, come outside with me,” Bibbi whispers. “Please.”
    Around them heads are turning. Hank rises to stand with his hands on the back of her chair. “Okay, okay, now. Just take it easy, dear heart,” he says.
    “What? What did he call me?” More laughter. She tilts her head back and smiles up at him. “Dear heart! Dear heart!” Tears run from the corners of her eyes: this pride of lions guarding its kill.
    “Nora,” Hank says sternly, face reddening. “Don't do this.”
    She wants to pour her drink down her throat in one long gulp but, under their reproachful stares, allows herself only neat sips. This is how Oliver drinks, she is thinking. All day long, these little sips, how he gets through his life.
Oh, Oliver. Help me. Someone help me.
    “I'll get Kenner.” Hank steps briskly away.
    Kenner. Their ridiculous nicknames. Nor, they tried calling her, until she nipped that in the bud.
My name is Nora, plain and simple, Nora!
Did she just say that? Should have if she didn't.
    “Get Evvie!” Jack Cox looks up and calls. “Get fucking Evvie,” he mutters.
    “Poor Evvie,” Bibbi sighs, sitting back, as if by willing the burden of greater threat onto Jack, Nora may snap to.
    “Is that what you said?” she asks, aware that her voice has thinned with the gin and is probably lost now in the hard beat of the song “Jump” that the band starts to play. Only a few couples dance. Most stand around clapping. Robin and Ken always danced the fast numberstogether, while she and Bob watched, laughing. “Is that what you've been saying, all this time? Poor Nora?” she says louder, so Bibbi can hear. Hands on her knees, she leans forward. “Poor Nora! Poor, poor Nora! The poor dear fucking heart!”
    Roused from his feed, Donald lumbers to her side, napkin dangling from his enormous collar. It's all right, he tells her. Everything is going to be all right.
    In the cold, shocked silence she wets her lips, smiles. She sits very, very still, smiling shyly up at Ken who makes his way toward her. Table by table, eyes drop as he passes. “Come on, Nora.” He slips the napkin from her lap, recoiling at the dots of blood from her torn cuticles. Bibbi passes