Harriet was worried that the hors d'ouevers were making her gastric. She pulled her little reporter's notebook out of her purse.

MARION HAWTHORNE DOES NOT SEEM TO BE SURVIVING THE THIRTIETH REUNION WELL. I WAS NOT AWARE SOMEONE COULD HAVE THAT MANY FACELIFTS. MARION RESEMBLES A SCOWLING PUG NOW.

It was interesting that the Gregory School would even have a reunion. Why had Harriet come? Sport had died in Laos all those years ago…Pinky Whitehead, standing nervously with his fat wife, had gotten out of the war because of pierced eardrums.

The Boy With the Purple Socks wasn't here. Janie said when she'd seen TBWTPS at the twentieth; he was hawking medical supplies or some such. Harriet had enjoyed a few conversations with TBWTPS after he'd left Gregory in junior high…they'd run into each other at dancing school. Harriet had thought Purple Socks might make a writer…medical supplies.

Would Beth Ellen come? From seven to sixteen, they'd had Water Mill together every summer, though they barely spoke during the school year. And the last few years of this, their friendship had changed, they'd gotten much closer, wearing lavender socks, some might say.

But then came college…art school in Cannes for Beth Ellen. Harriet had been quite caught up in the fun of being eighteen in '71, much of the protests, but not as much of the fear…the police had calmed down a bit.

Shortly after Beth Ellen's wedding to the Air Force chap (pleasant enough if you liked that type) Harriet had met Mei Ling, a "Hong Kong Gazette" correspondent, in a dyke bar in Brooklyn Heights, and they'd had twenty-six glorious years until Mei succumbed to breast cancer about eight months ago.

Harriet sighed. She wouldn't have even attended this reunion nonsense if she'd not been so lonely. And of course she didn't feel as if she could write excessively in her notebook here.

Harriet smiled faintly, remembering when they'd found her notebook…that day, playing tag. The only thing she really regretted in the pages was that Sport had found out her observations about his poverty, poor thing.

After they'd all worked things out, he'd never mentioned it again. But Harriet wondered whether Sport had felt differently from the others, not having a lot of money.

The door opened, and Janie came in, looking very bored. Janie caught Harriet's eye and smiled. Janie never had become a scientist after all—she was a computer security expert for the State Department in Washington, D.C.

When Harriet had told Janie she was a lesbian, Janie had laughed. "I suppose if you must affiliate with someone, it might as well be a woman."

Janie had found love, though, with a silly man who taught pottery at a community college. They weren't much alike, but he made Janie (and amazingly, Harriet) laugh.

But where was Beth Ellen? Harriet had never told Janie of her "other" relationship with Beth Ellen. They'd never told anyone. After Beth Ellen's grandmother had caught them, she'd sent Beth Ellen away to a boarding school in Ibiza, and Harriet had seen very little of her after this.

Janie wandered up to Harriet. "How is this dreadful thing going?" This was just like Janie. Not even bothering to hug or say hello, although they'd not seen each other in eighteen months.

Harriet smiled. "Well, Marion Hawthorne is posturing over there, Rachel Hennessy, Laura Peters. Laura Peters seems to be losing her hair."

"Remember when you cut it off in sixth grade?" Janie smiled. "But kids are hell. Ryan urinated in his roommate's contact lens solution bottle at math camp last year."

Ryan was Janie's son, bright but a bit Aspberger's. Harriet and Janie laughed silently.

Harriet wondered what had happened to so many of the people on her spy route. Agatha Plumber's majestic house was now a museum of African art, and she'd read in the papers that Harrison Withers had committed suicide. Apparently cats were not the answer.

The door opened again, and Beth Ellen came in, looking very beautiful and blonde. As always.

"There's Mouse." Janie said, simply. "I hope she's not upset or anything. I understand she went through a divorce. Not to gossip. Ryan's English teacher is Beth Ellen's son…and we talked at the last PTA meeting."

Harriet's mouth grew dry as she watched Beth go around, hugging people. No longer excessively shy, Beth Ellen had such poise now. Harriet thought of the summer when Beth Ellen had made all those nasty little messages and distributed them around town. "Bartlett's Familiar Quotations" indeed.

Suddenly Beth Ellen caught Harriet's eye, and came over. She hugged Janie briefly and handed Harriet a card.

Harriet looked down at the pale yellow card, with Beth Ellen's name on it, and on the back she'd written "Sherry-Netherland Hotel, Room #494"

Harriet breathed through her nose and smiled. This reunion might go better than she'd thought after all!