Arthur Hailey - Wheels

Unhurriedly, as before, Erica moved back to Cosmetics.

She reminded herself: she had wanted some perfume anyway. The way she had got it had been foolish and dangerous and she would never, ever, do the same thing again. But she had it now, and what was done was done.

Trying to undo it would create difficulties, require explanations, perhaps followed by accusation, all of which were best avoided.

A salesclerk at Cosmetics was free. With her most engaging smile and manner Erica asked to try some orange lipstick shades.

One danger, she knew, still remained: the clerk at the perfume counter.

Would the girl miss the package she had put down? If so, would she remember that Erica had been close by? Erica's instinct was to leave, to hurry from the store, but reason warned her: she would be less conspicuous where she was. She deliberately dawdled over the lipstick choice.

Another customer had stopped at Perfumes. The salesclerk returned, acknowledged the newcomer, then, as if remembering, looked at the counter where the Norell package had been left. The salesgirl seemed surprised. She turned quickly, inspecting the stock shelf from where she had taken the package to begin with. Several others were on the shelf; some, the ounce-size Norell. Erica sensed the girl's uncertainty: Had she put the package back or not?

Erica, being careful not to watch directly, heard the customer who had just arrived ask a question. The perfume clerk responded, but seemed worried and was looking around her. Erica felt herself inspected. As she did, she smiled at the cosmetics clerk and told her, "I'll take this one." Erica sensed the inspection by the other salesclerk finish.

Nothing had happened. The salesgirl was probably more worried about her own carelessness, and what might happen to her as a result of it, than anything else. As Erica paid for the lipstick, opening her handbag only a little to extract a billfold, she relaxed.

Before leaving, with a sense of mischief, she even stopped at the perfume counter to try a sample of Norell.

Only when Erica was nearing the store's outer door did her nervousness return. It became terror as she realized: She might have been seen after all, then watched and allowed to get this far so that the store would have a stronger case against her. She seemed to remember reading somewhere that that kind of thing happened. The parking mall, visible outside, seemed a waiting, friendly haven - near, yet still far away.

"Good afternoon, madam." From nowhere, it seemed to Erica, a man had appeared beside her. He was middle-aged, graying, and had a fixed smile revealing prominent front teeth.

Erica froze. Her heart seemed to stop. So after all . . .

"Was everything satisfactory, madam?"

Her mouth was dry. "Yes . . . yes, thank you."

Deferentially, the man held a door open. "Good day."

Then, relief flooding through her, she was in the open air. Outside.

Driving away, at first, she had a let-down feeling. Now that she knew how unnecessary all the worrying had been, that there was nothing whatever she need have become concerned about, her fears while in the store seemed foolishly excessive. She still wondered, though: What had made her do it?

Suddenly, her mood became buoyant; she felt better than she had in weeks.

Erica's buoyancy persisted through the afternoon and carried over while she prepared dinner for Adam and herself. No carelessness in the kitchen tonight!

She had chosen Fondue Bourguignonne as the main course, partly because it was one of Adam's favorites, but mostly because the idea of them eating together out of the same fondue pot suggested an intimacy which she hoped would continue through the evening. In the dining room, Erica planned her table setting carefully. She chose yellow taper candles in spiral silver holders, the candles flanking an arrangement of chrysanthemums. She had bought the flowers on the way home, and now put those left over in the living room so that Adam would see them when he came in. The house gleamed, as it always did after a day's sprucing by Mrs. Gooch. About an hour before Adam was due, Erica lit a log fire.

Unfortunately, Adam was late, which was not unusual; what was unusual was his failure to telephone to let Erica know. When 7:30 came and went, then 7:45 and eight o'clock, she became increasingly restless, going frequently to a front window which overlooked the driveway, then rechecking the dining room, after that the kitchen where she opened the refrigerator to satisfy herself that the salad greens, prepared over an hour ago, had retained their crispness. The beef tenderloin for the fondue, which Erica had cut into bitesize pieces earlier, as well as condiments and sauces already in serving dishes were in there too. When Adam did arrive, it would take only minutes to have dinner ready.

She had already replenished the living-room, fire a couple of times, so that now the living and dining rooms, which opened into each other, were excessively hot. Erica opened a window, allowing cold air to blow in, which in turn made the fire smoke, so she closed the window, then wondered about the wine - a '61 Chateau Latour, one of a few special bottles they had squirreled away which she had opened at six o'clock, expecting to serve it at half-past seven. Now Erica took the wine back to the kitchen and recorked it.

Returning, with everything completed, she switched on a stereo tape player. A cassette was already inserted; the last bars of a recording finished, another began.

It was Bahama Islands, a song she loved, which her father used to strum on his guitar while Erica sang. But tonight the soft calypso melody made her sad and homesick.

Gentle breezes swirl the shifting strand,

Clear blue waters lap this fragrant land,

Fair Bahamas! Sweet Bahamas!

Sun and sand.

Arc of islands, set in shining seas,

White sand beaches rim these sun-kissed cays,

Island living, Island loving,

Sand and trees.

Bright hibiscus line the path to shore,

Coral grottos grace the ocean floor

Nature's treasure, Life's sweet pleasure,

Evermore.

She snapped the machine off, leaving the song unfinished, and dabbed quickly at sudden tears before they spoiled what little make-up she was wearing.

At five past eight the telephone rang and Erica hurried to it expectantly.

It was not Adam, as she hoped, but long distance for "Mr. Trenton," and during the exchange with the operator, Erica realized that the caller was Adam's sister, Teresa, in Pasadena, California. When the West Coast operator asked, "Will you speak with anyone else?", Teresa, who must have been aware that her sister-in-law was on the line, hesitated, then said, "No, I need Mr. Trenton. Please leave a message for him to call."

Erica was irritated by Teresa's parsimony in not letting the call go through; tonight she would have welcomed a conversation. Erica was aware that since Teresa became a widow a year ago, with four children to take care of, she needed to watch finances, but certainly not to the point of worrying about the cost of a long-distance phone call.

She made a note for Adam, with the Pasadena operator's number, so he could return the call later.

Then, at twenty past eight, Adam called on Citizens Band radio from his car to say he was on the Southfield Freeway, en route home. It meant he was fifteen minutes away. By mutual arrangement Erica always had a Citizens receiver in the kitchen switched to standby during early evening, and if Adam called it was usually to include a code phrase "activate olive." He used it now, which meant he would be ready for a martini as soon as he came in. Relieved, and glad she had not chosen the kind of dinner which the long delay would have spoiled, Erica put two martini glasses into the kitchen freezer and began mixing the drinks.