Eternal Lies 1935
Dilettante and Adventuress
To say that you had a privileged upbringing would be selling yourself short: boarding school, summers in Europe, prep school, a year being social at your uncle’s manor in England, Yale. Your life leisurely meanders now from yacht clubs to fancy-dress parties to slumming it at five-star hotels. The most effort you exude is during fencing practice. But traveling first class isn’t an adventure. You’re not keen to give up the champagne, necessarily, but the gentlemen on luxury liners are just that—gentle. So you follow the advice your mother always repeated: dress for the life you want. You’ve traded in the fashionable dresses and stylish hats for khakis and leather boots. Time to see the world from its streets and back alleys. Of course, you always have that safety net when you need it.
For all your education, you’re the first to admit you’re a bit naïve about the world. You don’t blame yourself, of course. Yale is not the school of hard knocks, and your parents can be more than protective. You’ve always figured there’s something thrilling lying in wait around the corner for you, and you will eagerly seek it out. That said, you’re not shy about your ignorance. You’re perfectly willing to say what you think, or whatever comes to mind, and if you’re wrong, someone is sure to correct you.
The Westmores were always family friends with the Winstons. Your older brother went to school with Janet, their only daughter. You often visited for supper and often admired Walter’s library when you grew bored of billiards. At the point you started to reimagine your lifestyle, you realized that Walter Winston was the man you wished to emulate. He never sat long on the throne of his pharmaceutical empire; he traveled, met with shady contacts, and got involved in things. There were terrible rumors of the kinds of dealings he was up to, and you were terribly excited about all of it. It’s too bad he wouldn’t talk about his adventures when he came back. It’s too bad he’s gone now. But that won’t stop you from admiring his tenacity and courage.