Irwin Shaw - Short Stories - Five Decades

He had been even more surprised when one of his old customers, Mr. O’Malley, who to the best of his knowledge had never spoken a word to the lady, had followed her out of the shop one afternoon at three o’clock and gotten into a cab with her. It was then that he had awarded her her second star. Seeing her get into a cab with Mr. O’Malley heightened his interest in her.

She didn’t buy many books, but concentrated for the most part on the small record library against the rear wall, buying albums of every new Broadway musical. At the cut-rate music stores and discount houses farther downtown, she could have gotten the same albums much more cheaply, but as she once told Christopher while he was wrapping the album of Hair for her, “I don’t go downtown much. I’m really a homebody.”

She was an outside chance, Dorothea Toye, but the day was passing swiftly.

He dialed her number. The phone rang and rang and he was just about to give up when it was answered.

“Yes?” The voice was businesslike, but it was Dorothea Toye’s.

“This is Christopher Bagshot.…”

“Who?” Now the voice was cold and suspicious.

It was a dream of Christopher’s that the day would come on which people would not say, “Who?” when he said, “This is Christopher Bagshot.”

“From the bookstore, Miss Toye.”

“Oh, yes.” The voice was warmer but had a hint of puzzlement in it.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Christopher said.

“Oh, no, I’m just making myself a bit of breakfast.” Christopher looked at his watch. It was nearly one o’clock, and he realized he was hungry. He wondered briefly where Miss Toye could have been the night before to be having breakfast now at one P.M.

“I guess you’re surprised, my calling you up like this, I mean,” Christopher said, “but I thought—”

“Oh, I get a lot of calls,” Miss Toye said. She sounded husky and not demure over the phone.

“I’m sure you do,” Christopher said gallantly. “What I am calling about is—I mean, what are you doing tonight?”

Miss Toye laughed peculiarly.

“I could see if I could get some tickets to a show,” he said hurriedly, “unless, of course, you’ve seen them all.”

“I’m booked from eight on tonight, honey,” Miss Toye said, “but if you want, you could come over right now.”

“I can’t leave the store,” Christopher said, confused by the bluntness of the invitation. “And I don’t close till around seven and.…”

“Well,” Miss Toye said, “I can handle it at seven, if you don’t waste any time getting over here. Fifty dollars.”

“What was that, Miss Toye?” Christopher said faintly.

“I said my price was fifty dollars.” She sounded annoyed at something.

At that moment, the front door of the shop opened and June came in, wearing a raincoat, although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She waved gaily. Christopher tried to frown in a businesslike way as he cupped the telephone in both hands. He felt himself getting very rosy. “I’m afraid that isn’t exactly what I had in mind, madam,” he said.

“Look, Mr. Bagshot,” Miss Toye said crisply, “you don’t give books away free, do you?”

June was approaching him swiftly.

“I’ll talk it over with my father,” Christopher said loudly as June came into earshot, “and perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Miss Toye’s second laugh was even more peculiar than the first one had been. Christopher put the telephone down decisively as June kissed him on the cheek.

“My idea,” June said, “is that you close the shop and take me to lunch.”

“You know I can’t do that.” He walked away quickly from the phone and June followed him.

“You have to eat,” she said.

“I call the deli and they deliver,” he said. He wondered what he could say, without actually hurting her feelings, to discourage her from these raids at all hours.

“You look like someone in the final stages of mal de mer ,” June said. She was studying French at Berlitz in case she ever had the occasion to go to France. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. Nothing.”

“My God, we’re emphatic today,” June said. “OK, nothing. You glad I came?”

“As always,” he said. His conversation with Miss Toye had done something cramping to his throat and he had difficulty in pronouncing words correctly. Ordinarily, he would have been happy to see June come into the shop, she was a sweet girl, darling, even, at certain times, but her coming in just when Miss Toye was laughing that bruising laugh on the telephone showed an unfortunate, even if unconscious, sense of timing on June’s part.

His nose began to run. It was a familiar symptom. Whenever he was under tension, his nose leaked. In school, he always went to exams with three large handkerchiefs in his pockets. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew vigorously.

“Are you catching a cold or something?” June asked.

“Not that I know of.” He sneezed. He wondered if any other of Miss Toye’s potential clients were affected the same way after a telephone call.

“I know an absolutely fabulous pill that—”

“I am not catching a cold,” he said. He blew again.

“You don’t have to snap my head off just because I show a normal human interest in your health,” June said.

“June,” he said, “I’m having a rough day. All alone here in the store and—”

“I’m sorry,” June said, instantly contrite. “That’s why I came. I thought I might cheer you up. Maybe even help you a little this afternoon.…”

“That’s awfully sweet of you,” he said, aghast at the thought of having June there with Miss Anderson coming in around five o’clock and maybe even Beulah Stickney, too, if she got rid of her aunt. “But it’s too complicated with someone who isn’t familiar with the stock and all.”

“Anyway,” June said, “I’m going to have lunch with you. No protests.” She certainly was a bossy girl. “I’ll go to the delicatessen myself and buy us both a perfectly scrumptious lunch and we’ll have a picnic in the office.”

There was no getting out of it, so he pulled out his wallet and took a five-dollar bill from it. But June waved it away. “This lunch is on me,” she said. “I’ve had a big week.” She worked out of an office that supplied temporary secretarial help and some weeks she made as much as $150. She wouldn’t take a permanent job, because she had come all the way East from Pasadena to become a singer. She studied with a man who said he had been responsible for Petula Clark.

Christopher put the five-dollar bill back into his wallet.

“Aren’t you insanely happy now I came by?” she asked.

“Insanely,” he said.

“Then smile,” she said, “and say something nice.”

“I love you,” he said. That’s what she meant when she said say something nice.

“That’s better,” she said. She kissed him briefly and went out, blonde and small, lovable and intent on marriage, in her raincoat. She always wore a raincoat to protect her throat, just in case.

He thought of Miss Toye and had to blow his nose again.

“Isn’t this cozy?” June asked as they ate their roastbeef sandwiches and pickles and drank their milk at the table in the little back office. June was against alcohol because of her throat.

“Uh-huh,” Christopher said, chewing hard on a piece of gristle.

“Sometimes, when I’m alone,” June said, “and I happen to think of this little room, I’m almost tempted to cry.”

The reason she was tempted to cry was that the first time they had kissed, it had been in the little back office. If you wanted to look at it that way, it had all started there. The kiss had been wonderful and it had led to other and better things and there was no denying they had had a lot of fun together and she was a pretty and lively girl, nubile and often gay; but still the dark little office was hardly a shrine, for heaven’s sake.