Эд Макбейн - Happy New Year, Herbie and other stories

Well, I’m not John Ringling North, and I don’t run the greatest show on earth. I’ve just got a small, unimportant circus, and it gives me a regular small income, but it’s also a lot of trouble sometimes.

I still have my soul, though; and, what’s more, I now have a soulmate, and she answers to the name of Sue Ellen Mullins, which is in a way most euphonic, you will agree.

She met him suddenly and quite without warning, and she was certain afterward that her face went pale in that first shocking moment of rediscovery.

She had crossed over from Saks, lured by the riotous display of tulips in the Rockefeller Center Promenade, walking with a lively step, feeling rather gay. There was a mild breeze and it caught at her pale blond hair, and she could feel its warm embrace at the nape of her neck. She grinned at the tulips, and then she turned her face toward the huge gold statue of Prometheus at the end of the promenade, her eyes reflecting for a moment the dazzling cascade of water, the colorful backdrop of flags fluttering on the early-afternoon breeze.

And then she saw him, and her eyes tightened into sharp, painful focus on his face, and she felt suddenly weak.

She would have turned and ducked into one of the shops. Her first impulse was to run blindly away from him. She did, indeed, start to turn, and then his voice reached for her and her feet went curiously leaden, and she felt with sick panic the reminiscent quickening of her heartbeat.

“Lois?” There was honest surprise in his voice, and then quick conviction. “Lois!”

She turned, feigning slow recognition. He was walking toward her rapidly, walking with the same angular lope she remembered, his head slightly tilted as it had always been, as if he were listening for some unexpected sound.

“Why, Bobby,” she said. “How are you?”

He seemed ready to gather her into his arms. His hands moved toward her unconsciously, and then drew back suddenly, as if remembering they had no place to go.

“Golly, this is a surprise,” he said. “What are you doing in town?”

“Shopping,” she said, smiling.

“Did you buy anything?” he asked. His mouth was smiling its old secretly amused smile, the smile of a privately shared joke.

“Yes,” she said. “A present for... for Tom. His birthday is next week.”

“And the package?” he asked, still smiling.

“I had it sent.”

“Oh,” he said, and she thought she detected disappointment in his voice, disappointment at discovering this was a real shopping trip and not one of the sham excursions he had helped plot in the past.

“Are you finished for the day?” he asked.

“I have to catch a train,” she said.

“Not even time for a quick drink?”

“I have to catch a train,” she said, weakening. “Meg isn’t feeling too well.”

“Meg?” he asked. His brown eyes showed puzzlement. “Oh, yes, yes. Meg is the oldest one, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“How is everything? The family?” He paused. “Tom?”

“Fine, thank you. Everything’s fine.”

“Lois, haven’t you time for a drink? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

“I really have to catch a train,” she said.

“Oh.” He made a futile gesture with one hand, and then he smiled forlornly. She recognized the smile, and she thought: Why should I run from him? Aren’t there things I should know? Shouldn’t I ask for explanations?

“Perhaps just one,” she said. “But it really will have to be quick.”

“Good!” He took her elbow and wheeled her around, and as she turned she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, surprisingly awake again to the pressure of his fingers on her arm, his nearness.

“How... how’s everything at home?” she asked, unconsciously falling into step with him, quickening her pace.

“Fine,” he said.

“And...”

“Jeanine? She’s fine,” he answered. “In the pink. Gee! it’s good to see you, Lois.”

He saw the sudden frown on her face and quickly asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said tightly.

“You were frowning.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. Your nose still wrinkles when you frown, did you know that?”

“I hadn’t looked lately,” she answered. Suddenly she wanted this to be done. Suddenly she felt as if she were in grave danger. She wanted to have the drink, and catch the train, and get back home where she belonged.

“You should,” he said. “You should look often. You’re prettier now, you know.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“You cut your hair, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful this way. Your eyes are greener, too. And your mouth is prettier. Golly, you’re a tonic, Lois.”

“You’re looking well, too, Bobby,” she said.

“Am I? Been slaving like a coolie. We’ve got several new accounts, and most of them have been dumped on my head. Is this place all right?”

She looked up. She did not recognize the cocktail lounge.

“Yes,” she said, “this is fine. Provided we can get fast service. Are they quick?”

“Never been here in my life,” he told her.

“Bobby,” she said, feeling it suddenly necessary to clarify her own somewhat confused thoughts, “this is just a drink. Between old friends. You understand that, don’t you?”

He seemed surprised and then embarrassed. “Sure, sure. Hey, look. If you think...”

“I just wanted to make it clear. I can’t go through all that again.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said, his voice suddenly aloof.

“I... I just wanted to... to make it clear,” she said feebly.

“Let’s have our drink, shall we? I wouldn’t dream of having you miss your train. We mustn’t keep Tom waiting, must we?”

There was cruelty in his voice now, and she recognized the cruelty as something out of the past, a boyishly malicious streak which had been part of his character and which had served to make him more exciting somehow. Her panicky reaction surprised her. She found herself afraid of having incurred his displeasure, found herself desperately longing to be back in his good graces. Wordlessly they entered the lounge. Efficiently and coldly he signaled for the headwaiter and then allowed Lois to precede him to the small table in the corner.

“You look like an ogre when you frown,” she said lightly.

“Thank you.”

“I expect you to storm a medieval castle or something.”

He could not resist the word picture, as she knew he would not. He grinned and then said, “Why is it I can’t stay angry with you for any appreciable length of time?”

She laughed, and he reached across the table suddenly, capturing her hand.

Gently, she drew it back. “If we’re going to have that drink...”

“A martini,” he said, “or has it changed? A bit of lemon rind. Am I right?”

“It’s still the same.”

“You’ve forgotten what I drink,” he said teasingly.

“You know I’ll never forget, Bobby.”

“I’m testing you.”

“Please.”

“You don’t remember.”

“I do. Haig and Haig with—” She caught herself. “Oh, please, Bobby. Of course I remember.”

His eyes went suddenly solemn. “Do you know what I feel like doing right now?”

“What?” she asked.

“Kissing you.”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Yes.”

“Bobby...”

She knew he would kiss her. She knew with infuriating certainty that he was capable of tossing caution completely to the winds, of spreading panic to every part of her body by exercising a sudden whim. Like the time he’d driven her to the beach on a crowded Saturday. She had protested all the way, but he’d insisted he wanted to see her with the salt wind in her hair, and he’d dragged her onto the boardwalk while she trembled with the knowledge that a thousand unseen neighbors’ eyes could be watching her. And now he leaned over the table just as the waiter approached to take their order, and his lips touched her mouth gently, and she did not resist his kiss. She closed her eyes, bewildered by the reawakening of a response she had thought dead long ago.