Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

“He’s a good architect,” Linda said to no one, and again Eve turned to her tenderly.

Larry came out of the bedroom, a disgusted look on his face.

“Who was it?” Eve asked.

“The airport,” Larry said. “Our flight’s been delayed. Check-in time is now four-fifteen.”

“Delayed?” Mrs. Cole asked quickly. “Why?”

“Some mechanical difficulties,” Larry said.

“Oh, my God! I knew it!”

“Now, Louise, Louise...”

“Mom,” Larry said, exasperated, “we’re flying and that’s that!” He turned to Eve. Gently, he said, “Honey, can you make some coffee or something?”

“I’ll do it,” Linda said, rising from her cross-legged position on the rug.

“Where’s my watch?” Larry asked.

“On the dresser. Your watch, wallet and keys are all laid out.”

“The traveler’s checks?”

“Those too.”

“And the checkbook?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take a hundred in cash in my wallet, honey,” Larry said, “and I’ll pack the checkbook and traveler’s checks in the suitcase that locks. Okay?”

“Fine,” Eve said absently. “Linda, honey, the coffee is in the cabinet over the stove. The instant.”

“I see it, Eve,” Linda called from the kitchen.

“Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?” Lois asked, studying Eve’s simply tailored skirt and blouse.

“Yes. With the jacket to it. Why?”

“Nothing,” Lois said. She paused. “Haven’t you got anything dressier?”

“Darling,” Mrs. Harder said, “your sister doesn’t need any advice on how to dress.”

“I just thought for a plane ride, something dressier might—”

“Perhaps you’d like to lend her one of your shrunken sweaters.”

“Mama,” Lois said flatly, “have you ever seen yourself in that red cocktail dress?”

“What?”

“You’re half naked in it,” Lois said. “I’d be ashamed to—”

“Now that’s enough of that , young lady,” Mr. Harder said firmly.

“You’re lucky you never had girls, Louise,” Mrs. Harder said.

“Boys are no picnic,” Mrs. Cole said.

Eve very softly, said, “I’d like a little girl.”

Packing his suitcase beside her, Larry whispered, “I’ll see if that can be arranged,” and Eve chuckled quietly.

“Does everybody want coffee?” Linda asked from the kitchen.

“I don’t want you girls drinking coffee,” Mrs. Harder said. “Eve, darling, don’t you have any milk?”

“Of course we’ve got milk,” Eve said, annoyed by the negative assumption.

“Some milk for you and Lois, darling,” Mrs. Harder called to the kitchen.

“You’d better give the children something, too,” Mrs. Cole said. “God knows what time they’ll be eating tonight.”

Mrs. Harder took Eve aside and whispered, “Did you pack everything?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“I mean, did you pack everything , darling?”

“I packed everything.”

“Everything? Do you know what I mean?”

“Mama,” Eve said patiently, “everything.”

“All right,” Mrs. Harder said, nodding. And then, unwilling to let it go, she added, “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama. I packed the damn—”

“Coffee!” Linda shouted from the kitchen.

At the airport, David burst into tears when Eve kissed him, and Chris shouted, “I want to kiss Daddy, too. I want to kiss Daddy.” Larry pulled Eve through the loading gate as the uniformed attendant stretched out his arm to hold back the well-wishers waiting for the plane’s departure. He bent down and kissed his son under the man’s outstretched blue sleeve, and then he stood up and shouted “So long! We’ll see you in a week!” and together he and Eve ran across the field, the wash from the airplane’s propellers lashing at the coats they wore, up the ramp and into the plane where a smiling hostess greeted them. There was the sudden smell of human beings, the muted hum of the engines inside the ship, the long walk down the center aisle, squeezing into their seats past a little Puerto Rican man who held a guitar on his lap. There were the lighted signs at the front of the airplane, “No Smoking” and “Fasten Your Seat Belts,” and then there was the sudden angry roar of the engines, and Eve leaning over him to wave out of the curtained window, and then the plane taxiing across the field, gathering speed, the buildings rushing past in a blinding whitish-gray blur, the plane trembling with the power of its engines, and the little Puerto Rican man praying quietly in Spanish.

And then they were airborne.

He awoke. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. He sat up, blinked, and then remembered he was in Puerto Rico.

This was the Caribe Hilton. The unfamiliar hum in the room was the air conditioner, and the unfamiliar light was the tropical sun filtering through the drapes on the wall-length windows which faced the ocean.

Quietly, so that he would not awaken Eve in the other bed, he rose and went to the dresser. He lighted a cigarette and then tiptoed to the windows and peeked around one end of the drapes. The room was on the sixth floor of the hotel. There was a little balcony outside the window. He and Eve had sat on that balcony last night before going to bed.

The plane had put down at International Airport at 12:30 A.M., Puerto Rican time. They’d disembarked and waited for their luggage, only to discover it was coming down on a later plane, and then caught a cab to the hotel. By the time they’d registered and asked the desk clerk if they couldn’t get something to eat, it was close to 1:45. At 2:00 A.M. a bellhop knocked on their door. He explained that he had got them sandwiches and coffee from the gambling casino, the grill was closed, he hoped they would understand, he hoped it would be all right. Larry had tipped him extravagantly and then wheeled the tray onto the balcony. Ravenously, he and Eve devoured the food and drank the entire pot of coffee. Then, weary and satiated, they had sat back to smoke a last cigarette before turning in, the Puerto Rican sky peppered with stars above them.

Now, at eleven-fifteen in the morning, Larry looked through the window and felt wonderfully glad to be alive.

Far below him, the hotel’s amoeba-shaped pool gleamed a bright indigo in the sun. There were girls around the pool, and sailors in their summer whites, and gaily colored canvas chairs and luxuriant palms. Beyond the pool, directly opposite the vertical façade of the hotel, the white and sprawling beach encircled a calm blue lagoon in a huge overgrown C. Off to the right, where the sea wall blocked the lagoon, the ocean leaped against the boulders in splendid white and green fury.

“Eve,” he said.

“Mmmm?”

“Eve, come look at this.”

“What time is it?”

“Eleven-twenty.”

“Chris, up yet?”

“Wh—?” He grinned. “Yes, I’ve already taken him to the bus stop.”

“Good. Good. Put up the coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Honey?”

“Mmmm?”

“Watch.”

He drew the drapes open quickly, and sunlight splashed into the room. She turned her head away and then blinked and then sat upright, and then rubbed her eyes, smiled foolishly, and said, “Oh. Puerto Rico.” Sleepily, stretching lithely, she put her hands to the back of her neck and then moved them upward, lifting the black hair, letting it fall again in a glittering ebony cascade.

“Come look,” Larry said.

“I haven’t got anything on. Did our suitcases arrive yet?”

“I haven’t checked. Come on.”

“Larry, I’m naked.”

“So what? I’m in my shorts.”

“Did you sleep in those?”