The glowering, stormy-faced man with thick side-whiskers, sitting talking with two women on a sofa facing the fire, was Ludwig van Beethoven.
Shaken, Gina moved her head to take in others. “Nein. Zat is not
really true, vat zey say. Only two ideas do I haff in my life, unt vun off zem vass wrong.” Albert Einstein was talking to Mark Twain.
“Don’t misunderstand me. I abhor war as much as anyone-more than most, I suspect. But the reality is that evil people exist, who can be restrained only by the certainty of retaliation. . .“ Edward Teller, nuclear physicist.
“Let’s face it. Most decisions that matter are made by people who don’t know what they’re talking about.” Ayn Rand, to someone who looked like Mencken.
Another voice spoke close behind her. “Splendid to see you again, Gina. Doubtless dinner will be up to the usual standard.” She turned, now feeling bewildered. It was Benjamin Franklin, easily identified even in his dark, contemporary suit and tie. He leaned closer to whisper. “Tell the secret. What are you surprising us with this time?”
“Er, venison.” Gina found that she had a complete set of pseudomemories: deciding the menu; consulting with the caterers; planning the seating. The picture of the dining room was clear in her mind.
“Wonderful. One of my favorites. And my congratulations on the new book. It’s bound to raise a few hackles, but somebody needed to say it. Nothing could be more obvious than that individuals are not equal. They differ in size, shape, speed, strength, intelligence, aptitude, and in the disposition to better themselves. Of course, the opportunities to all should be the same. But to demand equality of results as a right is absurd. Since it is impossible for anything to grow beyond its inherent potential, the only way of achieving it would be to cut all trees down to the size of the shortest.”
Amazingly, Gina knew exactly what he was talking about. “I’m glad you agree,” she said, forcing a thin smile.
Franklin leaned forward again and covered his mouth with a hand. “Ayn is livid that she didn’t write it. You ought to try and find some way to console her.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Gina promised, puffing herself together at last and managing a conspiratorial smile.
“Good. . . And how are your husbands? Well, I trust?”
Husbands?
Gina’s smile froze as a new tapestry of recollections unfurled itself. “The last time I saw—” She balked. The image in her mind of the man she had driven to the airport had Vie Hunt’s face.
“Yes, which one? The Englishman?” Franklin inquired genially.
“VISAR, what does this mean?”
“You tell me.”
Heads turned toward the door. Gina followed their gaze. A lithe, athletic figure, resplendent in tuxedo and evening dress, had appeared and was beaming at the company with arms extended wide. He had piercing blue eyes, a droopy mustache, and hair that fell in yellow waves to his shoulders. “We thank all of you for coming. Dinner will be just a few minutes. Meanwhile, enjoy yourselves. Feel that this home is all your homes.” Appreciative murmurs came from around.
Gina gaped at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. He came over to her, assured, confident, mocking behind the laughing eyes, and offered his arm. “Excuse us. May I have my wife back?” he said to Franklin.
“But of course.” Franklin bowed his head and moved back. They moved away.
“What are you doing here, Larry?” Gina hissed.
“You brought me here. I’m just obliging.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Believe yourself, then.”
“Why do you always insist on acting like an asshole?”
“Why did you marry an asshole?”
“That was a long time ago. It’s been over between us for years.”
“Only because you made it that way.”
“We weren’t suited.”
“Wrong. We could have had fun. You had the curiosity, but you didn’t know how to handle it. So you turned the problem into something else.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gina told him.
“Oh no? Come on, you’re not really interested in listening to this bunch all night. Let’s move the night along.”
The reception room and the guests vanished. Larry was dominating the situation, the way he always had. Gina started to rebel, the way she always had. Why had it always had to be his way?