A Fine Imitation by Amber Brock

Author:Amber Brock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2016-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

At seven-thirty p.m. sharp, Vera and Arthur stepped into Abide Away’s drawing room for cocktails. Vera had selected a sunny yellow drop-waist dress in honor of the surprise holiday, but she looked odd standing next to Arthur in his staid gray suit. She had managed to talk him into adding a purple pocket square, giving him a little splash of color.

Vera’s parents were already in the drawing room, sipping martinis with Caroline and Walter. The Litchfields’ children would dine upstairs as, at ten and seven years old, they were still too young to be much company. Just as Vera took her gin and tonic from the waiter, a car door slammed outside, announcing Poppy’s arrival. Her nursemaid would be at the cottage with the children while Poppy dined.

She had, at least, restrained herself somewhat in dress. She wore an off-white gown with gold beading and a thin, glittery ribbon in her short curls. A maid showed Poppy into the drawing room, and she thanked Vera’s parents for inviting her.

“What a charming room, just charming,” she said, admiring a Tiffany lamp. “So restrained. So elegant.”

“We find the best things often are, dear,” Vera’s mother said in an airy tone.

Shoes sounded on the stairs behind Vera, and her pulse quickened. Hallan walked into the drawing room in a raw linen suit, his hair parted and combed as it had been on the night Vera had seen him at the restaurant. She had to admit, he looked very handsome when he made the effort to look presentable.

“Good evening, Mr. Hallan,” Vera’s mother said, striding across the room to him. “I hope you found your room to your liking?”

“Very much, Mrs. Longacre, thank you. You have a beautiful home here.” He smiled. “I’m only sorry I didn’t make it to tea.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Vera’s father said, stepping forward. “The tea is for the women anyhow. Would you like a cocktail?”

He slapped a meaty hand on Hallan’s back and waved the waiter over. They made an odd pair, the tall, slim, angular artist next to Vera’s doughy father. Joseph Longacre was a big man in every way, though there was a bit less of him since his gray hair had thinned on top. But his wide brown eyes had lost none of their intensity as he aged.

“Is the martini how you like it?” he asked Hallan. “Don’t be polite about it, now, you can speak up. We’ll mix it until it’s perfect.”

“Just how I like it, truly. So, when did you buy the house, if I may ask?” Hallan said, directing attention away from his drink.

“Buy the house? No, my boy, Lorna and I built this house,” Vera’s father said. “Got in with the Georgica Association just in time. This was the last of the big lots left.”

Poppy sighed. “Julius wanted in with the Georgica Association, but he simply didn’t move fast enough. We do love our little cottage, but the beach on this side is without equal.”

“The sands are beautiful here,” Hallan agreed. “I’ve never seen sand so white.

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