Turning away from them, she relished a cooling breeze. Baskets of pink roses gently swayed from the tented canopy made of green-and-white-striped silk.
“Almost as good as eating at the park, eh, Ivy?” Archer winked at her.
“It’s lovelier than I’d imagined,” she admitted, though Elsa noticed she didn’t point out that these were not food cart prices. In fact, the prices weren’t even listed on the menu.
After the waiter took their orders, Percy drank from his water goblet, then swiped a thumb over the condensation beading the glass. “You can’t persuade me that standing in line with the peasants for a paper boat of greasy food and then sitting on a hard bench—or worse yet, the ground—is better than being waited on like civilized human beings.” Brilliantine shone on his chestnut hair. The tidy mustache countered the boyish effect of a faint spray of freckles over his flaccid face.
Archer clapped him on the back. “Percy was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.”
Percy grunted. “So were you. And from what I understand, so was she.” He nodded toward Elsa.
“Ah yes,” Archer said, “but the difference is that she has spit hers out, and so have I. Or, at least, I’m trying to.”
Elsa glanced at Ivy, wondering if her roommate was silently writing off these two young men as rich snobs. “What does that mean, Archer? You’retryingto spit out the silver spoon? You mean you paid for that Rolls-Royce yourself?”
Archer pulled an emery board from his pocket and began filing his fingernails. “That was a gift from my father, and a fella doesn’t turn down a gift like that. It has a self-starting engine, for heaven’s sake, no more hand-cranking. But like I said, I’m moving out of my folks’ house on Fifth Avenue as soon as I can. I’m going to stand on my own two feet. I’m forfeiting my allowance and proving to my father that I’m man enough to live on my own.”
“Why now?” Elsa asked. She applauded the principle but didn’t understand the delay. She’d permanently moved out almost as soon as she turned eighteen. Then again, her parents’ househadn’t felt like a true home since before she contracted polio. After her hospitalization, it had shrunk to a convalescent room, and then to the place she visited on breaks from boarding school and holidays from Vassar College.
Archer sent her a sheepish grin. “Wealth is seductive. It took me a while to realize that freedom and independence are even more valuable. I was serious when I told you I was in the market for a good apartment.” He tucked the emery board away.
The waiter returned with a dish of caviar served with a stack of blinis. Percy scooped some of the sturgeon eggs onto one of the small buckwheat pancakes and popped it into his mouth.
Ivy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see how you can eat fish eggs.”
“It’s an acquired taste. Most of the finer things usually are. Shows class to enjoy it.”
Elsa wasn’t convinced but didn’t argue.
“How about you, then?” Ivy asked. “Do you still live with your folks?”
“Not on your life.” Percy’s gaze flitted to an attractive woman passing by. “I have an apartment of my own on Fifty-Second Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.”
“Your apartment is paid for by your grandfather,” Archer added.
Percy shrugged. “It’s true. My parents are gone, my grandfather pays my rent and expenses.” He topped another blini with caviar and ate it.
Ivy frowned. “You don’t work?”
“I write. That’s work. As soon as I sell a few pieces, I’ll be set for a year. And I’m working on a novel, too, a real crowd-pleaser for the masses. How’s this for a title:Death by Romance? Would you read something like that? You would at least pick it up and read the first page, wouldn’t you? Besides, I stand to inherit a great deal when Grandfather dies. But am I just sitting around, waiting? Of course not.”
Elsa raised an eyebrow. “I see. Maybe we’ll all learn to love hot dogs as Ivy does and cut our expenses considerably.”
Percy cracked a smile. “There’s more than one way to balance the budget. One of our buddies has a suite upstairs. Friday nights, he hosts high-stakes games—”
“That’s not for me, not anymore,” Archer interrupted.
“What’s this?” Percy asked. “Since when?”
“Since I resolved to only bet my own money, not my allowance from Daddy. Losing hurts. You have no idea how many weeks I’d have to work to make up for one night of bad luck. Count me out, Perc.”
Elsa gave him an approving nod, glad to see he was showing signs of maturing. Gambling was a foolish waste, even if one had cash to spare.
“Are you pulling my leg?” Percy’s voice began rising. “Everyone will be there.”
“Don’t cast a kitten,” Ivy said. “Broad is the path that leads to destruction and all that jazz, you know.”
Elsa chuckled and agreed. “You might try the straight and narrow one, Percy.”
