Deadly Beloved(21)

“Liza, listen,” Julianne’s voice said. “I just found out something wonderful. Karla Parrish is coming to Philadelphia.”

Liza’s eyes went automatically to the small oak liquor cabinet on the other side of the room, where she kept all her important photographs in frames. Then she looked away, embarrassed, because of course the picture wasn’t there. She had taken it down nearly five years before. It makes us all look silly, she thought now. Like the heroines of one of those women’s novels who all thought they were the best and the brightest but who had turned out to have failed lives and second-rate lovers instead.

“Anyway,” Julianne was saying, “you should call me, because I’ve had the best idea. I think we ought to have a party for Karla when she comes, don’t you? A kind of Vassar College mini-reunion  . She’s spent the last ten years or something in Africa and I’m sure she’s just dying to catch up, so why don’t you give me a call as soon as you have the chance and we can work it all out. My number is—”

Liza reached out and turned off the machine. She knew what Julianne’s number was—or at least what her office number was. She didn’t have Julianne’s home number, which was supposed to be all right because Julianne used call forwarding. It was probably just a way for Julianne to keep her at a distance. So was this business about getting Liza to call Julianne back. Julianne knew perfectly well what Liza’s work schedule was. Liza had had the same one for two and a half years.

I wonder what Karla was doing in Africa, Liza thought. Maybe she’s been like Julianne and Patsy were that time, all in love with primitive peoples and trying to go back to the land. That hadn’t worked out all that well with Julianne and Patsy, had it?

Liza picked up the receiver on her phone. You had to do odd things to the answering machine to make sure it didn’t start working right in the middle of your making a phone call, but Liza avoided those by just unplugging the thing. Then she dialed Julianne’s office number and waited.

“The office of the Honorable Julianne Corbett,” a female voice said.

Liza made a face. “This is Liza Verity,” she said. “I would like to talk to Julianne.”

“I’m not sure the congresswoman is available at the moment. Is there something I could help you with?”

“I’m a friend of hers from college. She left a message on my machine.”

“Just a minute, please.”

Music began playing in Liza’s ear: “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Liza made a face at her feet. Then Julianne’s voice came on the line, sounding bright and strained.

“Liza,” she said. “How good of you to call. I must have just missed you. It was only minutes ago.”

I’m sure it was, Liza thought. “What was Karla doing in Africa?” she asked. “Was she living in tree houses and learning how to make native jewelry?”

“No, no.” Julianne sounded impatient. “She’s a photographer. Did you see The New York Times last Sunday, the magazine? The cover story on the war in Rwanda?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” The hospital had several subscriptions to the Times, for doctors and patients. The hospital administration seemed to assume that nurses couldn’t read.

“Well,” Julianne was saying, “that cover picture, that black-and-white thing of all the boys, that was Karla’s. And the rest of the pictures in the article were Karla’s too. She’s practically famous, I mean it. Like Annie Liebowitz or Mary Ellen Mark.”

“I’m impressed.”

“So am I.” Julianne sounded impressed. Liza heard her take a deep breath. “Anyway. I thought I’d give a party, and we could have all the people from our Vassar class that I could find—there have to be dozens of us. The Main Line has a very active alumnae club. We ought to get a very good crowd. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds wonderful.” Actually, Liza thought it sounded terrible. She could just picture it: herself in her nurse’s uniform and all the rest of them in their Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein; herself with nothing to talk about but bedpans and union   troubles and the rest of them going on at length about the prospects for a rise in IBM stock in the new year. It would be like starting out at Vassar all over again.

“Good,” Julianne said. “Then it’s all settled. I’m going to have to go through her agent—can you believe that? It’s been so long since any of us has seen Karla, I’ll have to go through her agent. Unless you’ve been in contact with her? Have you?”