Then they stood together to admire the effect of the soft light, Claudia in her red satin, Garland in her dark, bright blue. They checked each other for flaws and found none.
“I’d like to go walking outside, the way we used to do,” said Garland. She glanced down at her high-heeled slippers. They weren’t too high. “I’ll only be gone a little while.”
“There’s not much to see out there,” said Claudia. “Nobody much walks here anymore. It’s been a long time since we’ve had company.”
“Maybe I’m just being sentimental,” smiled Garland. Her eyes twinkled for a moment, as if with some secret delight. “But maybe I’ll bring somebody back.”
“I’ll stay here in case anybody calls,” Claudia assured her.
The big wooden front door creaked shut behind Garland. She crossed the gray-floored piazza and ran down the steps to the path of old flagstones. Periwinkle overflowed them and knotted its roots everywhere. Ivy and honeysuckle choked the trees, autumn leaves poured down from the oaks. An old dead dogwood leaned wearily at the lawn’s edge. Garland picked her way carefully.
An owl shrieked a message in the distance. Garland smiled to herself. She had worn no wrap out in the warm evening, but she nestled into the soft collar of her silky dress to feel its closeness. She breathed deeply of the night air.
Falling leaves whispered like raindrops. But there were only vagrant clouds in the sky. A young moon shone upon the old sidewalk, upon old houses along the way. They were large, pretentious houses, the sort called Victorian. They were ramshackle. No light shone from any window. Garland might have been the only moving creature in the neighborhood. Once this had been an elegant area on the edge of the old town that existed mainly for Ellerby College, but people had moved out. Deterioration had set in. Urban renewal threatened the neighborhood.
All at once Garland heard something—voices, hushed, furtive. She saw two tall young men coming toward her. She looked at them in the moonlight. They were handsome, sprucely dressed, looked like muscular young athletes. She hadn’t seen their like for a while, and she felt a surge of warmth through her body.
They were near now, she could hear what they said.
“My Uncle Whit used to come here when he was in college,” one young voice declared. “He said this was called Pink Hill. Said you’d be mighty well entertained.”
Now she passed them, and turned at once to go back toward her house. She quickened her steps. For a moment she didn’t know whether to be sad or happy. If only she hadn’t lost her touch—but she knew her body, firm, sweet-looking. As she passed them again, she spoke.
“Hey,” she greeted them.
One, tall with a neat, dark beard, spoke shyly. “Nice evening, isn’t it?”
Garland smiled. If she had had dimples, she would have flashed them. “Yes, but there’s a chill in the air. I think I’ll just go back home. Maybe make some hot chocolate—or tea.”
Away she walked ahead, her hips swinging a trifle, not so fast as to lose touch with them.
They seemed to be following her, all right. The bearded one was speaking, and Garland strained her ears to hear.
“After all,” he was saying, “we did sort of think we were looking for experience.”
The other, the fair-haired athletic one, said something too soft for Garland to hear. But it sounded like agreement.
She walked on, watching her feet on the treacherous pavement. There were so many cracks in that old cement. Sure enough, the two boys were coming along with her. Again she felt a flood of internal warmth. She felt almost young again, almost as young as she must look. Carefully she timed the sway of her hips. There was the house. Along the flagstones she minced happily, and up the steps and in at the door.
“We’re going to have company, Claudia,” she said.
Claudia swept the room with an appraising glance, and smiled a cool smile. “Tell me,” she said quickly.
“Two really lovely young men, coming along to follow me. One with bright hair and a football body. The other tall, bearded, neat, sophisticated looking. We’ll have to do them credit.”
“Well, there’s a bottle of port out, and some of those cheese biscuits I made.” Claudia studied the table in the lamplight. “We’ll be all right.”
From outside they heard footsteps on the porch, and hesitant whispering.
“They’re beautiful,” said Garland.
Silence for an instant. Then a guarded tattoo of knocks on the panel of the door. A knock, Garland guessed, taught them by good old Uncle Whit.
“Okay, here we go,” said Claudia, and gave Garland a triumphant look. “Remember your company manners.”
She glided to the door, her red gown hugging her opulent hips and her slim waist. Her dress was long. It swept the floor and it accentuated every curve and hollow of the well-used body. She could be proud of how she looked, how she moved. She graduated magna cum laude in every way.
She opened the door, and the lamplight touched the two young men.
Garland had appraised them accurately. They wore well-fitting suits and open shirts. The taller one had a close-clipped beard, dark and sleek. Promising and intelligent. The other, of medium height but with broad shoulders, looked powerfully muscled. Undoubtedly undergraduates at Ellerby College. Fine prospects, both of them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Claudia gave them her personal, hospitable smile.
“Good evening, ma’am,” said the dark one, like a spokesman. He would be for Garland, thought Claudia. For her the other, the sturdy one.
“Well,” said the tall one. “Well, we thought—” He paused embarrassedly.
“We thought we’d come walking this way,” spoke up the other. “My name’s Guy and this is Larry. We—we’re students.”
“Freshmen,” added Larry. “We go to Ellerby.”
“I see,” Claudia soothed them. “Well, won’t you come in?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Guy gratefully. They entered together and stood side by side. Their smiles were diffident. Claudia closed the door behind them.
Larry studied the parlor with politely curious eyes. “This is a great place,” he offered. “Wonderful. It’s—well, it’s nostalgic.”
“Thank you,” Garland smiled to him. “Come sit here and see if this couch wasn’t more or less made for you.”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he paced toward the couch. He wore handsome shiny boots. He and Garland sat down together and Claudia held out her hand to Guy.
“You look like somebody I used to know,” she said, slitting her silvery eyes at him. “He played football at State. Came visiting here.”
“Maybe all football players look alike,” Guy smiled back. “I came to Ellerby to play tight end, if I can make it.”
Beside Larry on the couch, Garland turned on her personality. It was as if she pressed a button to set it free.
“Would you like a glass of this port?” she asked. “It’s very good.”
“Let me do it.” He took the bottle and poured. His hand trembled just a trifle. “Here.” And he held out the glass.
“No, it’s for you,” she said. “I’ll wait until later.”
Larry sipped. “Delicious.”
“Yes, only the best for our friends.”
“We surely appreciate this, ma’am,” he said, sipping again.
“You may call me Garland.”
Claudia had seated Guy in a heavily soft armchair and had perched herself on its arm. They were whispering and chuckling together.