CHAPTER 38

forgotten that many of his female guests were too young to distinguish one from another.

By seven o'clock, the orchestra had arrived—not a mere five-piece band, but a full pit of

oboes, trombones, saxophones, viols, cornets, piccolos, and drums of all kinds. The last swimmers had come in from the beach and were changing upstairs; cars from New

York were parked five deep in the driveway, and already the halls, salons, and verandas

were vibrant with primary colors, strange new haircuts, and shawls beyond the dreams of Castile. The bar was in full swing, and rounds of cocktails floated into the garden,

filling the air with chatter, laughter, casual innuendo, and introductions quickly forgotten, as well as enthusiastic encounters between women who had never known each other's names.

The lights grew brighter as the earth tilted away from the sun, and the orchestra played

lively cocktail music while the voices grew louder. Laughter became more frequent, spilling over generously with every cheerful word. Groups shifted rapidly, growing with

new arrivals, dissolving and reassembling in the same breath—already there were wanderers, confident girls weaving through the crowd, momentarily becoming the

center of attention before gliding on through the ever-changing sea of faces and voices under the shifting lights.

Suddenly, one of these vibrant revelers, adorned in shimmering opal, grabbed a cocktail

from the air, downed it for courage, and danced alone on the canvas platform with movements like Frisco dances. A brief hush fell; the orchestra leader adjusted

the rhythm for her, and there was a burst of gossip as the erroneous news spread that she was Gilda Gray's understudy from the 'Follies.' The party had officially begun.