“William, I’m so ashamed of myself—truly—you must forgive me. I’m just so annoyed over Miss Peckham.”
“Why? Because you need to be the center of the universe at all times? Come to your senses,” William said as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from under the tablecloth and filled a large glass to the rim. “You’re a pretty girl, but not the prettiest or smartest or anything. And no, I don’t have to forgive you—and I don’t. Look, the dance is over; better be off to your fiancé before you’re upstaged by Miss Peckham.”
“I hate you, William.”
“It’s Bill,” he muttered, gulped back his drink and poured another.
Miss Peckham raced up, yanked the bottle from his hand and said, “Mr. Weldon, I need you for a dance.”
“I don’t dance.”
Miss Peckham grabbed his hands. “Come on! I know you’d like to. I can see it in your…
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Tenafly Road 