Only a Paper Moon [ Band of Brothers ] 3

Chapter Eighteen

March 15, 1946

Another day, another night in the spotlight. Though Alice had to admit that the sheer number of fancy dresses and makeup she got to buy these days made the transition to socialite easier. Lewis took her arm as they moved towards the massive estate that Stanhope had chosen for that night's get together. Something about trying to build connections with a few of New York's more high society families. Lewis had mentioned that Nixon Nitration Works' profits had taken a small downward turn, and Stanhope wanted to stop that.

"Think your father will be in a good mood tonight?" Alice asked. She glanced left at him as they approached the door. "Or will he be as horrible as ever?"

"Beware the Ides of March," Lewis teased.

Alice couldn't help but grin at his joke as they passed through the door. Beware the Ides of March, indeed. The only thing predictable about Stanhope Nixon was how unpredictable he could be in the most negative ways possible. But Dick would be there, and Ruth as well, though she was helping with organization and running the thing. Marjorie had been left off the list again, something that Alice couldn't help but get worked up about. Lewis had done what he could. He'd tried to get her on the list, tried to work with Ruth to see how to fit her in. But both Marjorie Williams and Leah Nakahara had been tasked with early morning shifts and dismissed.

"Dick better be here already." Lewis took the coat off Alice's back as they stood in the entrance of the grand estate. A worker took it and his own from the foyer. As soon as his father's friends spotted him, though, Lewis flipped on his practiced nonchalance. "Thurston! You're looking well. The wife finally stop hounding you about needing to put on weight?"

Alice held her hands behind her back. The man in question, Thurston Tennison, tall and skinny and going bald, shuffled over. He grimaced. "Mildred never shuts up, Lewis." After they clasped hands, he turned to her. "Mrs. Nixon, how are you?"

She smiled. "I'm well, thank you. How's your back?"

He grimaced again, but shrugged. "Better. Still giving me trouble when I bend too much."

"I hope it improves."

"Lewis! Thurston!"

At the call from further in the estate, all of them turned. Stanhope Nixon. He locked eyes with Alice briefly, and she did her best not to glare back. Thurston shouted back that they were coming and laughed, but Lewis just turned to her.

"Go," she muttered, then she smirked. "He misses you."

"And you don't?" he asked.

Alice just chuckled. "I get you every night."

As they stood in the center of the entranceway, the estate looking straight out of some Victorian novel, Lewis grinned. He leaned down to her and whispered to her. He had a plan, as Stanhope stood down the hall glaring at them. Standing on her toes, she kissed him. He deepened it, placing a hand on her back and pulling her closer. She couldn't help but grin as they pulled apart.

"That should piss him off," Lewis whispered.

Alice kissed him one more time. "Go."

She watched as he turned away. Stanhope stood with Thurston at the end of the foyer, the latter grinning much more than Stanhope himself. He looked like a predator there, staring at her with a blazing anger. Alice just shut her mouth and turned away to look for anyone she knew.

A few wives of the older businessmen had gathered in the front room to her left. She recognized only two. They never quite approved of her. She'd heard from Ruth that most of the older women spoke of her as a Parisian "free spirit." According to Ruth, that meant whore to them. They were cordial to speak to, but never friendly.