Thirty-Six
LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER, we are seated at an elegant little side table in one of the nicest restaurants that I have ever been in. The exterior may be a restored plantation home, but inside the entire main floor is a modern-looking restaurant. There’s a continual chatter and clink of silverware against plates, mixed in with the dance music coming from the live orchestra. The light is, I’d say, medium, allowing Gladys to see everything clearly. Everyone is dressed the same way Helen and I are, so we more or less fit in.
But I immediately notice that, while most of the men are my age or older, the vast majority of the women are younger than Helen.
Much, much younger than Helen.
The waiter hands us our menus, and asks for our drink order—water for both of us—then leaves us to m
