happened to be in Bloomingdaleâs White Plains store while he was autographing copies of Blighted Elms. Curious to see what the notorious young author was like, she stepped over to his signing table during a lull in sales and fell into conversation with him. She found him witty, charming, and handsome. They exchanged telephone numbers. For the past month he has been on tour, promoting his book, and he called her several times from various cities. When Melody learned that he would be in New York for the Christmas holidays, she asked Noah Liebling if she could invite Bill Luckman to the familyâs New Yearâs Eve party.
At first Noah was dubious. âI havenât read his book,â he said, âand Iâm not planning to. From what I gather, itâs nothing but a piece of smut in an academic setting.â
âI think heâs actually a very moral person,â Melody said. âHe was outraged by the things he saw going on there, and thought the public should know about them.â
âIsnât he a little old to be dating you?â
She laughed. âHe isnât a date, Mr. Liebling,â she said. âI met him only once, in a roomful of people.â
Carol Liebling was more sanguine about the idea. âI havenât read the book, either,â she said. âBut itâs certainly causing quite a stir, and everybodyâs talking about it, and heâs been on all the talk shows. Heâs very attractive. I think it would be fun for the girls to have him, Noah. And heâd help balance out the sexes at the table.â Bill is the sexpot Anne was referring to.
And so Carol Lieblingâs dinner table tonight is set for ten, though only nine of these people are principal characters in our story: Hannah, Cyril, and Anne, Carol and Noah and sister Ruth, Ruthâs daughter Becka, Melody Richards and William Luckman. Those are our ennead. Othersâsuch as Ruthâs new beau and Noahâs and Carolâs friends, Frank and Beryl Stokes, who also live at River Houseâwill drift in and out of the proceedings, of course. But those nine are the ones to keep your eye on.
In the stalled traffic on Park Avenue, the horns continue to blow and the police whistles continue to shriek to no avail. Hannah Liebling leans across the back of the front seat of the Lincoln again and says, âMr. Nelson, perhaps youâd better phone my son and daughterin-law and tell them about this pickle weâre in with this traffic. I know sheâs serving a lamb roast tonight, and she knows I like it pink, but not bleeding.â
âCertainly, Mrs. Liebling.â He picks up the car phone by his side and begins pressing buttons.
âAnd incidentally, Mr. Nelson. Which way does Third Avenue runâuptown or down?â
âDowntown, Mrs. Liebling.â
âHa!â she says to Cyril. âI told you so!â
The traffic inches slowly forward, the rain continues to pour down, and the windshield wipers of the Lincoln thrash furiously back and forth. Manush, manush, the wipers say.
Cyril thinks: Mr. Nelson knows which side his bread is buttered on.
2
An Intermezzo
One spring morning when she was fifteen (Hannah is remembering) and when the gardenia in the upstairs formal parlor was just coming into bloom, she tossed a blossom from the open front window into the street below. It was intended to land at her fatherâs feet as he left the house on the way to teach his school. But she missed, and her father strode on in his purposeful way without seeing it. But a young sailor carrying a navy duffel bag happened to be passing the house on his way to a great adventure. He saw the flower fall to the sidewalk and stooped to pick it up. He looked up at the young girl in the window, and a breeze blew the parlor curtains aside. He smiled up at her, and she smiled back. Then he put the gardenia between his teeth, gypsy-style, and danced a little jig. Then he hoisted his
Laura Ward, Christine Manzari