Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

“More or less?”

“You did sort of cue him.”

“Cue him?”

“Yes.” Gently, although he was aware of his own increasing irritation, he added, “Honey, you don’t have to repeat every word I say.”

“But I didn’t cue him. I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you smiled sort of wistfully. You know what I mean.”

“Wistfully?” Eve repeated.

“Sort of like a newlywed, you know, who couldn’t bear to be separated from her husband.”

“Oh, Larry, please, I didn’t,” Eve said, laughing somewhat embarrassedly.

Her laugh annoyed him. “It seemed that way to me,” he said. “I hope he doesn’t think you’re... well, pushy.”

“Pushy? Me?” Now Eve frowned.

“Yes, yes.”

“Pushy? Are you talking about me? ”

“Eve, you’re raising your—”

“Well, I simply don’t like to be called pushy.”

“Nobody called you pushy,” he said, his own voice rising. “I just hope Baxter didn’t get the wrong idea and think you were pushy.”

“I don’t see how he could have got that impression,” Eve said loftily.

“Well, you did... you did sort of... well, dammit, you looked pretty upset when you thought I was going down there alone!”

He felt anger full upon him now, and he thought, We’re going to have a fight, but he was helpless to stop the anger or the argument which he was certain would erupt around them. He didn’t even know why he was angry, and his inability to pinpoint the cause of his irritation made him angrier still.

“In fact,” he said, “it was pretty embarrassing.”

“What was embarrassing?” Eve asked.

“Business is business,” he said flatly. “I thought you knew that.”

“How did I do anything to—?”

“You could have kicked this right out of the window,” he said, gathering steam, “right out of the window! We were lucky, that’s all. Baxter’s reaction could have been the complete opposite.”

“Baxter’s reaction to what , damnit!” Eve said.

“To your wanting to come along, damnit?” Larry said.

“But it was his suggestion!”

“Come on!” Larry snapped.

“It—”

“You could have killed this opportunity. The first real chance since that rotten prize. Do you think I enjoy designing — designing unimportant things? Don’t you think I want something bigger for myself? You could have—”

“Me?” Eve asked.

“Yes, you! You! Who the hell do you think?”

“What did I do , would you mind telling me?”

“Why’d you have to insist on making the trip with me?”

“Insist?”

“Yes, insist, insist! And stop repeating every damn word I say!”

“I didn’t insist on anything. Baxter made the suggestion.”

“Sure, he made the suggestion. And you sat there like a wilted flower with an apologetic smile. Oh, no, really,” he mimicked, “really, Mr. Baxter, it’s entirely up to Larry, really it is.”

“Well, it was. And I didn’t sit there like a wilted flower or anything . The decision was yours.”

“Sure, provided you could go along. I’m going there to work, you know, not to—”

“Who’s stopping you from working? I was perfectly content to have you go alone. Baxter said—”

“Baxter said, Baxter said—”

“Well, he did! Now cut it out, Larry! You’re getting me angry!”

“Oh, am I? Well, isn’t that too damn bad!”

“You can go to Puerto Rico alone if you like. You can go to China, for all I care. You can go and stay , for that matter.”

“Sure, sure. Now I’m the one who’s anxious to get away from you. I’m the one who’s dying to flop into some Spanish brothel and—”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you want!” Eve snapped.

The car went dead silent.

He sat with his hands on the wheel and his foot on the accelerator and he looked out at the road ahead, his anger dissipating, to be replaced by a deep puzzlement.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to argue.”

“This could have been fun, you know,” Eve said, thoroughly infuriated now. “You didn’t have to spoil it.”

“I’m sorry,” Larry said again.

They drove home in utter silence. The baby sitter greeted them at the door with the assurance that neither of the children had awoken. Larry paid her and drove her home. When he got back to the house, Eve was asleep. He undressed quietly and then climbed into bed beside her. It grew cold sometime in the middle of the night, and Eve curled up against him, and his arms unconsciously circled her, and his hands found her breasts, and in her sleep she murmured, “You stinker,” but she did not move away from the warmth of his body.

Monday morning.

He felt logy and puffed with sleep, and he vowed to turn down the thermostat at night so that the house would be cool and right for sleeping, but how could you do that with children in the house, David still wetting the bed; the boy would catch pneumonia.

He was sullen and uncommunicative at the breakfast table. He planned an extended session at the drawing board that morning, and he hadn’t bothered shaving. He sensed Eve’s disapproval, and he told himself he would shave right after lunch. They had patched up the argument over the weekend, had in fact discussed the coming Puerto Rico trip with great enthusiasm, and he did not want to risk a fresh breach over something as ridiculous as a beard.

“I’ll walk you to the bus stop,” he told Chris. “I need some fresh air this morning.”

“Can I come, Dad?” David asked.

“I don’t think there’s time to get you all bundled up, David.”

“Is there, Eve?” David asked.

“I don’t think so, son.”

“I never go anyplace,” David said unfairly. “Only Chris goes.”

“That’s because I’m five,” Chris said.

“I’m five, too.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m five,” David said firmly.

“Is he, Daddy?”

“No. But you’ll be five soon, David. You stay here and help your mommy.”

They put on their coats and left the house. The air was sharp and crisp. It attacked his cheeks and his teeth like a cold needlepoint spray.

“I saw a squirrel yesterday,” Chris said.

“Yeah?”

“He was burying nuts.”

“That’s good,” Larry said.

“That’s so he’ll have something to eat this winter.”

“I know.”

“Sure. I know, too.”

He was coming awake. He could feel his mind returning to his body, as if it had been away for a long time and was now tentatively trying out the furniture. It was a cold day, but there was beauty in the cloudless blue of the sky, the barren streets rushing off to a vanishing point on the horizon.

“I’ll have to put in antifreeze,” he said aloud.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“He holds the nuts in his hands,” Chris said. “Just like a person.”

“His paws.”

“Sure, his paws.”

He saw Margaret Gault when he was a block away from the bus stop. Unconsciously he quickened his step so that Chris had to trot to keep up with him. She was standing alone with her son, and the boy had his arms wrapped around her, his head buried in the protective folds of her skirt.

“There’s Patrick,” Chris said, and he ran off to join the other boy. Larry slowed his pace, assuming an air of nonchalant ease. When he was close enough to her, he smiled and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she answered, returning the smile, her right cheek magically dimpling.

“Got cold all of a sudden, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, and she shuddered a little at the thought, and then pulled her son closer.