Chapter 15: The Club

Vivian's bridge circle met on Wednesdays at noon in the Garden Room of the Lakeshore Club.

For eleven years nobody had sat in her chair.

I went at five to twelve, alone, in a charcoal coat.

The club manager met me at the door.

"Miss Sorrell, I should tell you," he said quietly.

"The membership committee met last night. Eleven members signed a petition. It was not a long meeting."

"I wasn't asked to sign."

"No, miss. It was felt that you shouldn't have to."

He opened the door.

The Garden Room was glass on three sides, with white wicker, potted lemon trees, and four green-topped card tables set for eight.

Seven women sat in a row of chairs along the wall, in sweater sets and pearls, with their hands folded.

Not one of them had touched the tea.

Vivian stood at the center of the room in a camel coat, holding her handbag in both hands.

She looked ten years older than she had on the roof.

"I don't understand," she was saying, to the woman in lavender who had spoken at the brunch. "It's Wednesday. We always play on Wednesday."

"Vivian, not today."

"I brought my own cards."

"We know you did."

Vivian turned to the woman beside her.

"Say something. We have been friends for thirty years."

Nobody said anything.

The silence went around the room.

The club manager stepped forward with a cream envelope on a silver tray.

"Mrs. Gaines. This is notice from the membership committee. Your sponsored guest privileges at the Lakeshore Club are suspended, effective at once."

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