"You have to know about these things, Celeste," she said. "You'll be invited to rich peoples' homes now. Their children have been brought up exposed to elegant, expensive things, have traveled to all sorts of exotic and beautiful places. You should know about the good life, appreciate what you can have, will have.
"I don't want any of them to know you're an orphan, a girl who lived in orphanages most of her life," she added firmly as she poured a black liquor into what she called brandy glasses.
"How am I to prevent them from knowing?"
"Simple," she said. "We'll tell them a different story."
She gave me the drink and sat across from me. I looked at the glass.
"Go on, try it," she said.
I did. I thought it tasted like licorice. Actually, I enjoyed it.
"It's Opal Nera, black sambuca," she said. "Now then, who are you, and why are you here?"
She sat back, thinking. I sipped more of my drink and sat staring at her.
"Okay. You're my niece, understand: Your parents are in a nasty, nasty divorce. Most of those snobs will understand and appreciate that," she told me. "Half of them come from divorced parents. I volunteered to take you in for the remainder of the year so you would have a more stable environment. Now where do you come from?"
She sipped her drink and tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair.
"Can't be from the South. You have no accent. We have to be careful. These kids have influential relatives everywhere. Where have you been?"
"Nowhere," I replied.
"Where was that farm of yours?"
"It's in the Catskills."
"Okay. What's your father do?"
"What about a pharmacist?" I suggested. Maybe it was the alcohol, the food, the excitement of the whole evening, but I was suddenly enjoying this.
"Pharmacist? No, that's not wealthy enough, unless he owned a chain of stores. Let's keep it a little vague. He's an international entrepreneur, and he's away from home so much, and that's why the marriage failed. Your mother might have had a lover. Yes, she has a lover and you knew it and it was painful for you because even though your father is away so much, you love him and feel sorry for him. However, he might have lovers, too. In Europe. Perfect. If anyone asks anything specific, you get sad and say you can't talk about it. It's all still so raw and painful. Oh, this is terrific," she said.
I laughed and finished my sambuca.
"You like that?"
"Yes."
"I'll teach you everything about good wine, good whiskey. You'll have eaten in fancy restaurants, so we'll talk about food. And we'll eat in good restaurants, frequently, so you'll know what I mean. This is going to be so much fun!" she cried.
We heard footsteps in the hallway.
Wade paused in the doorway and looked in at us. I put my glass down quickly.
"What are you doing, Ami? You were supposed to come home so she could get a good night's rest."
"We have to unwind, Wade. Women like us just don't hop into bed, close our eyes, and drift into Never-Never Land." She turned to me. "Wade falls asleep in seconds!'
"Not always," he said in a dark tone.
Ami's smile faded.
"All right. We'll go to bed, Daddy,`" agreed, put down her glass, and stood.
I did too, and we started out of the room. Wade stepped aside. I glanced at him quickly. He raised his closed right hand to his ear to indicate he would make my wake-up call. Ami and I headed up the stairway.